Chapter 24 More Than Professional
Daylan's POV
The hospital's usual hustle and bustle continued around me, a constant hum that was both comforting and distracting. Suddenly, the door to my office swung open with urgency. A woman and a teenage girl dressed in sports clothing rushed in, the woman supporting the girl who was clearly in distress. The girl's breathing was erratic, and her eyes were wide with panic.
"Doctor! Mia is having a panic attack," the woman exclaimed, guiding the girl to a chair.
I immediately rose from my chair, my personal concerns fading into the background. "It’s okay." I said to the woman. "What is her name?" I asked.
"Mia, I'm her coach, Lena," she replied.
"Mia, you’re safe here. Let’s get you comfortable." I said as I rounded the desk.
Mia's breaths were coming in rapid, shallow gasps, and she was clutching at her chest. I knelt beside her, speaking in a calm, soothing voice. "My name is Dr. Hart. I need you to try to slow your breathing for me. In through your nose, out through your mouth."
Her eyes met mine, filled with fear, but she nodded slightly. Coach Lena hovered nearby, looking anxious. "Coach, can you grab the oxygen tank from the corner?" I asked.
While the coach fetched the tank, I kept my focus on Mia. "You’re doing great. Just keep focusing on my voice. In through your nose, out through your mouth."
Coach Lena returned with the oxygen tank, and I quickly attached the mask over Mia’s mouth and nose. "Breathe slowly. This will help."
Her breathing started to stabilize, but she still looked terrified. I maintained eye contact, trying to reassure her. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"I... I was playing volleyball," she stammered. "I missed a few shots, and the other girls... they were really hard on me."
I nodded, understanding the pressure she must be under. "It’s okay to feel overwhelmed sometimes. But remember, you are stronger than you think."
Her breaths slowed further, and she began to relax. "Thank you, Dr. Hart," she whispered, her voice still shaky.
"You did all the hard work," I replied with a smile. "Coach, would you mind stepping out for a moment to get some water for Mia? I will stay with her." I asked as I turned my attention to the coach.
"Of course," she replied and left the room, leaving me alone with Mia. I could see the tension slowly leaving her body, but she still seemed vulnerable.
"Mia, is this the first time you have had a panic attack?" I asked gently, holding her gaze.
She nodded. "Yeah. I didn’t know what was happening. It was so scary."
"Panic attacks can be frightening, but they are not dangerous," I explained. "They can happen when we are under a lot of stress. Do you feel like you have been under a lot of pressure lately?"
She nodded again, tears welling up in her eyes. "Yeah. My grades, volleyball, my parents... it’s all too much sometimes."
I felt a pang of empathy for her. Teenagers often bore the brunt of immense pressure, and I couldn’t help but think of Rick and the moments I had missed with him. "It’s important to talk about these things. Keeping it all inside can make it worse."
She looked at me with a mixture of gratitude and relief. "I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this stuff."
"You can always talk to me," I said. "And I’m sure Coach Lena is there for you too."
She managed a small smile. "Thanks, Dr. Hart. You’re really nice."
I chuckled softly. "I try. Do you feel a bit better now?"
She nodded. "Yeah. A lot better."
Coach Lena returned with a bottle of water, handing it to Mia. "Here you go, Mia."
"Thanks, Coach," she said, taking a sip.
"You’re going to be okay," I said, standing up. "But it’s important to take care of yourself. If you ever feel like this again, don’t hesitate to ask for help."
"I will," she promised. "Thank you, Dr. Hart."
As Coach Lena led Mia out of the office, I sat back down at my desk, the weight of the day pressing down on me again. The interaction with Mia had been a stark reminder of the importance of being present and supportive, something I had missed out on with Rick.
Just as I was about to dive back into my paperwork, the door to my office opened again. This time, it was Dr. Lily Adams, one of the board members too. She looked slightly flustered but composed herself quickly. She clutched a notebook against her chest.
"Dr. Hart, do you have a moment?" she asked, stepping inside.
"Of course, Dr. Adams," I replied, motioning for her to sit. She was attractive, but in a professional, polished way that didn’t stir any of the feelings Brie did. "What can I do for you?" She sat down across from me and placed a notebook on the desk, taking one of my pens, and then opening up the notebook.
"I wanted to discuss the project," she began, looking slightly nervous. "The board has some concerns, and I thought it might be best to address them directly with you."
"Of course," I said, leaning forward. "What questions do you have?"
Dr. Adams hesitated for a moment before diving into the specifics. "There are questions about the budget allocation for the next phase. Some board members are worried about the projected costs and whether we will see a return on investment."
"I understand," I said, nodding. "But this project isn’t just about financial return. It’s about improving the quality of life for our patients. The multidisciplinary approach we are developing could set a new standard for pain management."
She nodded, taking notes. "That is a compelling argument. But we need to ensure we have the resources to sustain the project long-term. Have you considered additional funding sources?"
"Yes, I have already reached out to several foundations that focus on healthcare. We are also looking at potential grants and partnerships with universities," I explained.
Dr. Adams seemed to relax a bit, her initial nerves easing. "That is good to hear. I think if we can present a solid plan to the board, we will be able to secure the necessary funding."
"Absolutely," I agreed. "I will prepare a detailed report on our funding strategy and potential partnerships."
She smiled, her professionalism slipping just a bit as she added, "Thank you for being very thorough. It’s one of the things I admire about your work."
"Thank you, Dr. Adams," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. "I appreciate your support."
As we continued discussing the project, I couldn’t help but notice how Dr. Adams’s demeanor shifted. She was professional, but there was an undercurrent of something more personal. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes lingering on me longer than necessary. I kept my focus on the project, determined to maintain the boundaries I had set for myself.
After we wrapped up our discussion, I stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Thank you for coming in, Dr. Adams. I hope I was able to address all your concerns."
She stood as well, her expression softening. "You did. Thank you for taking the time." she took her notebook and placed my pen on my desk before she stood up.
As she moved towards the door, she paused, looking back at me. "And remember, if you ever need to talk or need support, I’m here."
"I will keep that in mind," I said, offering a polite smile. "Have a good day, Dr. Adams."
After she left, I exhaled a long breath. It had been a long day. I glanced at the clock, the day had finally come to an end, and I felt the weight of exhaustion settle in my bones.
With my laptop bag slung over my shoulder, I exited my office, the quiet halls of the hospital a stark contrast to the frenetic energy that filled them during the day. As I walked, I noticed Abby falling into step beside me, her usual confident stride matching mine.
"Daylan," she greeted, her voice carrying that mix of professionalism and underlying personal interest that I had come to recognize. "How has your day been?"
"Long," I replied, managing a tired smile. "But productive. How about you?"
"Busy, as always," she said, her eyes flicking to my laptop bag. "Heading home to catch up on more work?"
"Just finishing up some reports," I said. "But mostly looking forward to a quiet evening."
"With your woman," she stated.
"That's correct." I replied.
We walked in silence for a moment before Abby broke it. "I heard that some board members have been reaching out to you individually. How’s that going?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Yes, two of them have. They have concerns about the pain management that is part of the project. But, to be honest, I get the feeling that their concerns are more personal than professional."
Abby raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in her eyes. "Go on," she encouraged.
"It’s like they are not just evaluating the project," I said, choosing my words carefully. "I can’t shake the feeling that some of these women are... eyeing me, I mean...they always do, there's nothing new about it."
She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You’re a catch, and they know it. But you’re saying they are mixing business with... personal interests. If you were still the same Daylan you had been before you met this new woman, you wouldn't have thought twice to f^ck them. You always did even to get things you wanted."
"Exactly," I said, feeling a wave of frustration. "It’s like they’re waiting for me to make a move or something, and it’s making it hard to focus on what really matters, the project and its potential impact on our patients."
Abby gave me a sympathetic look. "You know, sometimes getting personal can be a strategy. Building rapport, making connections, can help sway opinions."
I stopped walking, turning to face her. "I’m not that kind of man anymore, Abby. I don’t want to mix my personal life with my professional responsibilities, especially not in that way. I’m here to do my job and do it well. I want the project to succeed on its own merits."
She sighed, crossing her arms. "I get it. But sometimes you have to play the game to get what you want. These board members have a lot of influence. If they feel a personal connection to you, they might be more inclined to support the project."
"I’m not going to compromise my integrity for this," I said firmly. "I want the project to succeed because it’s important, not because I f^cked my way into their good graces."
Abby scoffed, shaking her head. "You’re a rare breed, Daylan. Most people would jump at the chance to use whatever leverage they can. But I respect your stance, even if I think it might make things harder for you."
"I appreciate that," I said, starting to walk again. "But I believe in this project and what it can do for our patients. I have to trust that the board will see its value too."
She matched my pace, her expression contemplative. "I hope you’re right. The project has potential, but without their support, it’s going to be an uphill battle."
"I know," I said quietly. "But I have to believe that they will come around. This is about the patients and improving their quality of life. That should be enough."
Abby was silent for a moment, then she looked at me with a mixture of admiration and frustration. "You’re a good man. Sometimes too good for your own good."
"Maybe," I said with a wry smile. "But I can’t be anything else."
She stopped at the entrance to the parking lot, turning to face me fully. "Just know that I’m rooting for you. I want this project to succeed too. But if the board doesn’t back it, there is only so much I can do."
"I know," I said, meeting her gaze. "Thank you. For everything."
She gave me a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Take care. And don’t work too hard."
"You too," I replied, watching as she walked away.
I stood there for a moment, watching her go, then turned to head to my car. The evening air was cool and refreshing, a welcome change from the sterile environment of the hospital. As I drove home, my mind wandered back to Brie and the conversation we needed to have. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was necessary.
When I finally pulled into the driveway, I sat in the car for a moment, gathering my thoughts. I needed to be honest with her, to let her know what was on my mind. But I also needed to be supportive, to show her that I was there for her no matter what, and then I got out of the car and went all the way to her apartment door.
Once I entered the apartment, the familiar warmth and comfort of home wrapped around me. Brie was in the kitchen, cooking dinner, and she looked up with a smile when she saw me.
"Hey, how was your day?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine interest.
"Long," I admitted, setting my laptop bag down. "But happy that the day came to an end."
She walked over, wrapping her arms around me in a hug. "I’m glad you’re here."
I hugged her back, feeling the tension of the day start to melt away. "Me too."
As we sat down at the table now with our plates in front of us, I knew the conversation ahead would be difficult. But I also knew it was time to face it, to be honest with Brie about my fears and hopes. It was the only way forward for both of us.