You Handle the Scalpel
The post claimed that as the head of cardiothoracic surgery—the hospital's top scalpel—I was greedy for taking a 0-000,000 bonus all for myself.
What they didn't know was that the hundred grand wasn't a simple holiday bonus. It was the annual performance dividend for every high-risk, life-or-death procedure performed at this hospital—procedures that only I was qualified to execute.
But context didn't matter. The entire hospital was calling my integrity into question, accusing me of being shamelessly avaricious.
So, I decided to give the people what they wanted. I submitted a formal request to the administration:
[To foster departmental unity, I voluntarily request that all my scheduled high-complexity surgical cases be reassigned to other qualified physicians.]
When the notice went out, the hospital practically ground to a halt. The senior department heads mobbed the entrance to my office, begging me to take it back.
…
I had just stepped out of a grueling twelve-hour aortic dissection repair when my assistant, Jenna, handed me her phone.
Pinned to the top of the hospital forum was a trending post:
[Let's talk about Dr. Evelyn Reed from Cardio. A 0-000,000 bonus? Isn't that a little… shameless?]
The author was anonymous, but the avatar was a fluffy pink bunny. I recognized it instantly. It was Chloe, the new intern.
The post was simple: a screenshot of the bonus distribution list, my name and the figure "0-000,000.00" clearly visible, though other details were blurred.
The caption dripped with passive aggression:
[‘Tis the season of giving! I thought we might get some candy canes or something, but Mercy General decided to make it rain. Except, Dr. Reed alone walked away with a hundred grand, while the rest of us nurses and junior docs are killing ourselves for a few hundred bucks. Lol, I guess poverty really does limit your imagination.]
She conveniently failed to mention that this "bonus" was the annual payout for all "Tier-4" surgical procedures.
And in the entire cardiothoracic department—no, in the entire hospital—the only surgeon capable of independently performing ultra-complex Tier-4 operations like Type-A aortic dissections or giant ventricular aneurysm resections was me.
The comment section was a dumpster fire.
[A hundred grand?! Why doesn't she just rob a bank?]
[We in the ER work like dogs every single day, and my entire yearly bonus isn't even a fraction of hers. How is that fair?]
[They call her the hospital's top scalpel. Looks like she's the top earner, too.]
I scrolled through the venom, my face a blank mask. The life I had just spent half a day saving suddenly felt a little less precious.
Back in my office, the atmosphere was thick with tension. I could feel the change in the way people looked at me. A group of nurses who usually chattered away fell silent the moment I walked in, scattering with poorly concealed expressions of disdain and envy.
My mentor, Dr. Harrison, the head of the department, called me into his office. He sighed, the sound heavy with fatigue.
"Evelyn. How do you plan on handling this?"
"Sir, you know it's not a holiday bonus."
He nodded, then shook his head. "I know. But they don't. And you can't silence a mob."
I understood his unspoken suggestion: I should give some of the money back, take a step down to appease the masses.
Just as I was about to respond, there was a knock on the door. Dr. Mark Carter, the associate chief of surgery, walked in, with Chloe trailing behind him.
Mark was a few years my senior and always carried himself as if he were my long-suffering superior, despite the fact that I consistently outperformed him in the OR. The sour stench of his jealousy was palpable whenever I won another award.
He immediately adopted the air of a mediator.
"Dr. Harrison, Dr. Reed. Chloe here is young and acted foolishly. I brought her to apologize." He gave her a little nudge forward.
Chloe’s eyes were red-rimmed. She bowed stiffly, her voice thick with fake tears.
"Dr. Reed, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I just… I saw the number and I was so shocked. It felt unfair, and I wanted to ask on behalf of everyone. I didn't have any malicious intent."
"On behalf of everyone." "Didn't mean to." Her apology was sharper than a winter wind.
Mark smoothly picked up the thread. "Evelyn, you see? Chloe was just thinking about department morale. And really, this isn't all her fault. The bonus structure is a bit problematic; it's bound to cause misunderstandings."
He looked at me, a glint of triumph in his eyes.
"How about this? You take a portion of the money, treat the whole department to a nice dinner, and we'll build some goodwill. We'll let this whole thing blow over. She's just a kid, after all. We should be the bigger people here."
The way he said it made it sound like I had taken money that wasn't mine and now needed to buy my way back into everyone's good graces.
I watched their perfectly choreographed performance and let out a cold laugh.
"You're right, Dr. Carter. My perspective was too narrow. I was so focused on the surgeries that I didn't consider everyone else's feelings."
Mark’s smile widened, thinking I was capitulating. Chloe lowered her head, her shoulders shaking slightly in a display of contrived remorse.
I ignored them and turned to Dr. Harrison.
"Sir, the root of this problem is that my skillset has created a monopoly. I'm taking up too many resources, leaving no room for my colleagues to grow."
"To promote unity, and to give excellent mid-career physicians like Dr. Carter more opportunities, I've decided to submit a formal request to the administration."
I paused, watching the blood drain from Mark's face, and enunciated each word with perfect clarity.
"I am voluntarily relinquishing my privileges for all Tier-4 surgical procedures. I will transfer the entire caseload to other qualified surgeons in this department. From now on, I will only perform routine Tier-1 and Tier-2 operations."
Dr. Harrison shot to his feet, his face pale with shock. "Evelyn! Are you insane?!"
Mark Carter looked like he'd seen a ghost. He had probably imagined a thousand ways to undermine me, but he never dreamed I would take the crown jewel everyone coveted and hurl it—throne and all—directly at him.
Tier-4 surgery represented the pinnacle of the profession. It also carried the highest risk. Succeed, and you were showered with prestige and money. Fail, and you faced lawsuits and the end of your career.
He had the gall to be envious, but did he have the skill to take the reins?
I didn't give him a chance to process it. As I walked out of the office, I paused beside Chloe.
"Congratulations," I whispered. "You got everyone the fairness they were asking for."
Her face went completely white.
My request hit the hospital's leadership like a bomb.
The hospital president himself called me, his tone graver than I'd ever heard it.
"Evelyn, who are you trying to punish with this stunt? Do you have any idea what this request means?"
"Mr. President, I'm not punishing anyone," I replied, my voice calm. "I am simply responding to the will of the staff. I don't want to be the cause of any more division over bonus pay."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. He knew better than anyone that the most advanced operating rooms and equipment in the cardiothoracic wing were essentially reserved for me. He knew how many high-profile patients—politicians, CEOs, complex cases from around the country—specifically requested me by name, generating millions in revenue and prestige for the hospital.
And now I was walking away. He, the president, was the first one who couldn't afford that.
"Just calm down. I'll hold onto your request for now. I'll have our IT department take care of the forum."
"That won't be necessary, sir," I interrupted. "If my presence here undermines fairness, then I will step back. I'm confident the hospital will function perfectly well without me."
I hung up. A few minutes later, Jenna burst into my office, her eyes wide with panic.
"Dr. Reed, it's bad. The forum is exploding again!"
I pulled it up. A new post had shot to the top.
[Insider Info! Dr. Reed is threatening to go on strike over bonus dispute!]
The poster was anonymous again, but the tone was far more inflammatory.
[She's holding the entire hospital hostage just because she's good at her job. Is this a physician's compassion, or a physician's greed? The ego on this woman is unbelievable.]
A comment right below it, heavily upvoted, was from an account I recognized as one of Mark Carter's burners.
[I've always heard she was difficult, but I never imagined she lacked this much perspective. The operating room isn't her personal stage. The world keeps spinning without her.]
Chloe, however, went all in, posting under her real name with a paragraph of carefully crafted, fire-stoking "objectivity."
[As an intern, I've seen how tirelessly our senior doctors work for their patients, but I've also seen imperfections in the system. I believe our hospital is a compassionate community, and personal feelings should never be placed above a patient's life. I hope certain individuals can cool down and not do something that will disappoint us all.]
She had successfully rebranded herself as a concerned, noble whistleblower.
I laughed out loud, the sound bitter and sharp.
Just then, my phone rang. It was the ER. The head nurse's voice was a frantic blur.
"Dr. Reed! A trauma patient just came in, suspected Marfan syndrome with an acute Type-A aortic dissection rupture! He's in shock! We need you down here now!"
A ruptured Type-A dissection. The mortality rate was measured in minutes, not hours. It was the Mount Everest of cardiac surgery.
I grabbed my white coat and sprinted out the door.
But as I reached the ER triage desk, a middle-aged woman blocked my path. She was the patient's wife. Her eyes were red and swollen, but her face was a mask of suspicion and distrust. She was clutching her phone, the screen displaying the very forum post that had put me on trial.
"You're Evelyn Reed?" she demanded, her eyes raking over me. "You're the one who's going on strike over money?"
Her voice wasn't loud, but it hit me like a sledgehammer.
The family's accusation was a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. The adrenaline, the battle-ready focus I'd been summoning, shattered into a million pieces.
I looked at her, then past her to the trauma bay where a man's life was draining away by the second. The sheer absurdity of the situation was overwhelming. I wanted to explain, but I knew that in the face of manufactured outrage, logic was useless.
"I am not on strike."
She didn't believe me. She took a step back, as if I were a venomous snake.
"I don't care what you are or aren't doing! I will not let a doctor with no ethics operate on my husband!" she shrieked. "Get me someone else! Surely you have other experts in this hospital?"
The ER chief rushed over, his face turning a sickly green when he heard her demand. "Ma'am, please, calm down! Dr. Reed is the only surgeon in this hospital who can perform this operation! If we delay any longer, no one will be able to save him!"
"I don't care! I want a different doctor!" she screamed, her voice cracking.
At that moment, Mark and Chloe arrived on the scene. A flicker of satisfaction crossed Mark's face before he replaced it with a look of deep concern. He approached the woman, his voice a gentle balm.
"Ma'am, please, don't be upset. We understand you're emotional, but saving your husband is the priority. Dr. Reed's technical skills are, at least, reliable…"
His words, seemingly supportive, only served to validate her belief that my ethics were questionable.
Chloe, ever the empath, handed the woman a cup of water. "Ma'am, please try not to worry. Or, perhaps we could ask Dr. Carter? He's also a brilliant specialist in our department."
That single sentence was all it took. The woman's eyes lit up with a new, desperate hope. She grabbed Mark's arm like a drowning person clutching a life raft.
"Doctor, you'll do the surgery! I trust you!"
Mark made a show of hesitating. "Well… that's not exactly protocol. Dr. Reed is the attending surgeon of record…" But his eyes kept darting in my direction, filled with undisguised provocation.
The hospital president and Dr. Harrison, having been alerted, came rushing down, looking panicked. The president took one look at the standoff and dragged me aside, his voice a low, pleading whisper.
"Evelyn, for God's sake, a man is dying! Just give in this once. Apologize to the family, smooth things over!"
Apologize?
For what? For the bonus I earned with my skill? For the scalpel in my hand that could save a man's life?
I looked at the president's frantic face, at the smug curl of Mark's lip, at the toxic innocence in Chloe's eyes.
And I suddenly felt so incredibly tired.
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