Stay Off My Operating Table Novels & Stories

With my left hand, I propped myself up and slowly made my way to the operating table. I couldn't see Devan's face, but I could feel his cold skin. "I'm sorry. I tried my best," I silently said in my mind. But as my cold fingers brushed against his chest, a surge of determination shot through my brain. No. It wasn't time to give up yet. I snapped my head up and barked an order at the nurses trembling in the dark, "Scrub! Listen to me! Use the manual pump. Keep the bypass going. 60 beats per minute. Whatever you do, don't stop."

The squeak of wheels echoe like a somber refrain, a soundtrack to the uncertainty that’s beyond the operating room doors. At the threshold, a kind-faced nurse gently places a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, but only the medical staff and the patients can go further. The operation will take hours. You can wait here if you like, but it’s better if you go back to your room to take a proper rest."

"Don't worry. This hospital is reputable. It's a minor procedure, nothing more." "But—" I hesitate, but he presses a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet. "Shh. It'll be over soon." His hand pats mine, grounding me in his steady presence. I remind myself how much he usually dotes on me, how much he cares, and I allow myself to relax, just a little. Still, as I lie on the chilled metal of the operating table, I can't help but shiver. "Honey, I'm cold," I whisper.

He didn't need his clipboard to tell them what was wrong. “Before I start, I need you to promise you're not going to storm into that room! The last thing the Omega needs is for you to storm in there and hurt the very people trying to save him. So. I need you to promise that no matter what I tell you, you're going to stay right where you are, or at least away from the operating room!”

It was almost late evening that Ma finally got out of the operation theatre. The operation went well even though there were a few hiccups as Ma blood pressure suddenly dropped in the middle of the operation. But, in the end, it all went well, thank God. Jeanne and Aaron followed Ma's bed to the post operation ward. Ma was still unconscious due to the morphine with all the wires entangled on her body. They then settled down in the ward. After visiting Ma for a few minutes, Aaron then excused himself, giving personal space for those two.

“I can handle it all.” He cocked an eyebrow, weighing my words. “As long as it is work.” I emphasized, and he smiled, as if he knew deep inside I also had open opportunities for anything else. He nodded. “Very well, then, Doc. But until your hand fully recovers, I would like for you to avoid the operating room unless absolutely necessary.” Damn! I was really looking forward to that. “Okay. What would you rather have me do?” I questioned. “You will be assisting me with patient consultations in the meantime.”

she wailed. “What happened to her? Why are you outside?” Gia gathered herself, standing straight. “S-she is in the operating room, but they said if she is stable, only families are allowed.” “Nonsense! ” I spat, already fuming. “You are family.” I argued, trying to keep my act together. I refused to let the fact that she was undergoing an operation cloud my head. She had probably fallen and cut herself. It was just a minor operation. I repeated under my breath, yet even that thought had my heart in a clutch.

But he didn’t step back. Didn’t react. Didn’t even flinch. The person slipped away— blending into movement. Into people. Into nothing. Gone. Again. “Damn it.” His voice dropped low. Controlled. But dangerous. Very dangerous. He looked down at his arm briefly. Blood continued to spread. Ignored. Completely ignored. Because something else mattered more. Inside the operating room— machines beeped rapidly. Voices overlapped. “Pressure dropping!” “Stabilize her!”

“Thank you… please, keep me updated.” She offered a small, sympathetic smile before leaving. I sank onto a chair nearby, resting on its cold armrest, and then closed my eyes. How had I let it get this far? Time passed slowly as I waited outside the operating room, every sound echoing in the sterile corridor like a reminder of what I’d nearly lost. I rehearsed words in my head—apologies, promises, pleas for forgiveness. But what did I even have to say? I had always been in control, always confident that nothing could shake me.

The doctor and nurses strapped Walsh down on the operating table. Being held against the table I felt so helpless, the anguish grew in my chest, I wanted to run, to get out of that place and the blows were not enough. My strength faltered, I couldn't make it even I ignored the pain in my hand, the blood falling on the floor, uselessly I wanted to raise myself over my body to free myself. Knowing I wouldn't make it.