Chereads / A Face to Love / Chapter 2 - Chapter Two

Chapter 2 - Chapter Two

The chilly, antiseptic air in the operation room was almost stifling. The walls shone with clinical brilliance, appearing to accentuate the heartbeats of the tiny crew milling around. Suzan Turner lay on the operating table, her heart beating along with the constant beeping of the monitors around her. This was it—the moment she had both hoped for and dreaded. Today was her first operation with Dr. Dave, a guy she met in the hospital waiting room who was a beacon of hope in the middle of her agony.Suzan had a familiar sensation of uneasiness as she lay there, the harsh fluorescent lights flashing above her. What if he's disappointed? What if, despite all of his efforts, she failed to meet his expectations? She saw Dave, dressed in blue scrubs and a surgical mask, move with purpose, yelling directions to his staff. His forehead was wrinkled from concentration, and his gaze was fixed on the task at hand. He was a dominating and confident guy, but to Suzan, he seemed distant—like a dazzling star that was just out of reach.The anesthesiologist, a pleasant-looking lady with kind eyes, approached Suzan and smiled reassuringly. "Suzan, you're doing fine. Simply breathe deeply. We'll take excellent care of you," she whispered, her voice a soothing balm over Suzan's tense chest."Thank you," Suzan said, barely above a whisper. She felt the frost of doubt wrap around her heart. What if this is all a mistake? What if the operation didn't provide the comfort she sought? The notion sent shivers down her spine.Suzan reflected on her life beyond these antiseptic walls; the brilliant hues of her past before the accident turned everything drab. She yearned for the times when her days were filled with laughter and pleasure. To distract herself from the upcoming procedure, she decided to initiate conversation. After all, she was going to give her life to this guy, so she needed to connect."So, um, do you like art?" She ventured out, her voice shaking slightly as she attempted to sound casual, despite the fact that her pulse raced at the thought of putting herself out there.Dave looked up, his countenance inscrutable under the mask. Suzan thought she saw a flash of astonishment in his gaze, but it was swiftly replaced by that same steely concentration. "Art?" he repeated, as if the term were unfamiliar to him."Yeah, I've always loved painting," she said, anxious to keep the conversation going and break through the barrier that appeared to divide them. "This is how I express myself. Canvas allows for vivid depictions of colors, forms, and emotions. It's healing, in a sense."For a moment, the room was quiet, the busy noises of surgical preparations receding into the distance. Dave stopped, his hands quiet, as if contemplating her words. "My sister used to paint," he said softly, his voice quiet and almost melancholy. "She was really gifted. One summer, she painted a painting in our backyard. "It was breathtaking."Suzan's heart fluttered at seeing his vulnerability. This was the Dave she had wanted to meet—the guy underneath the veneer of professionalism. "Really? "What kind of paintings did she create?" she said, genuinely interested."Mostly landscapes, but she had a knack for capturing emotions in her work," he added, his voice softening. "It was as if she could see into people's souls. She once painted a sunset that seemed so alive that you could walk right into it.Suzan saw how his eyes moved as he talked, as if he were engrossed in the memory—a lovely, short moment that hinted at a gentler side below his veneer. She could see the fire in his eyes, and his demeanor softened as he recalled those moments with his sister. It was a glimpse of the guy behind the surgeon—a man capable of truly feeling and appreciating the world's beauty."I'd love to see it," Suzan remarked with a loving voice. "Art has a way of connecting people, doesn't it? It's like a language that communicates straight with the heart."Dave nodded, and for a brief time, the tension in the room appeared to ease. "It does," he said, a trace of a grin emerging at the corners of his eyes, even though they were serious. "I think it's important to find moments of beauty, especially in a field like ours where we often deal with pain and suffering."Just as the nurse inserted the anesthesia into her IV, Suzan felt a flood of serenity sweep over her, blending with the vestiges of her anxiousness. She allowed herself to unwind, to let go of the anxieties that had held her back. Perhaps this guy, with his hidden depths and love of art, was someone she could trust."Can you tell me more about your sister?" She inquired, hoping to keep this relationship alive. "What was she like?""She was fearless," Dave said, full of respect. "She approached life straight on and was never hesitant to take chances. I appreciated her for that. "She taught me a lot about courage."At that time, Suzan felt a connection to him, an understanding that went beyond the antiseptic surroundings of the operation room. Courage. She felt a strong connection to the term. She had faced her own challenges, battled against the tides of despair and self-doubt, and now she was about to take another leap of faith.As the anesthesia started to take effect, her eyesight clouded, and the world around her dissolved into a gentle haze. "Thank you for sharing that with me," she said softly, her voice becoming weak. "I think..." "I think I want to be like your sister—fearless."For a brief time, she believed she saw a glint of pride in Dave's eyes, a spark that bonded them in unexpected ways. "You already are," he said, his voice warm and steady as the darkness drew her in.And then, just like that, the world around her vanished, leaving behind a cocoon of warmth and safety, a moment of connection that she would keep with her into the darkness of doubt.---In the realm of anesthesia, time no longer existed. Suzan slipped in and out of awareness, stuck between dreams and reality. She drifted through recollections of her past, of brilliant colors splattered over canvases, laughing with friends, and alone introspection in front of her easel. The noises of the operating room faded to a distant hum, and she felt free, as if she were floating in a sea of color and light.But suddenly, like a violent shock, she was brought back to consciousness. The monitors beeped again, this time crisper and more insistently. The bright lights overhead lit the operating room, and she squinted against the brightness, bewildered as she attempted to regain her bearings. "Welcome back, Suzan," a sweet but stern voice said. The anesthesiologist smiled reassuringly. "You performed well, and the surgery went well."Suzan's heart raced as she comprehended the outpouring of emotion. Has she really done it? Had she made the initial steps toward recovering her identity? Panic and thrill warred inside her as she attempted to sit up, but the weight of the anesthetic held her rooted to the table."Just take it easy for a moment," the nurse said, her tone comforting. "You'll feel a bit groggy, but that's normal."As the cloud lifted, Suzan moved her eyes to the side, and there he was—Dr. Dave, standing close with a clipboard in hand, his look professional but gentler than usual. **He was here. ** She felt a surge of warmth at the sight of him, her heart surging with appreciation for the connection they had made only minutes before."Dr. Dave," she said, barely above a whisper, her words heavy with sorrow. "Did it go well?""It did," he said, his tone firm and comforting. "We were able to significantly enhance. It will take time to mend, but you are on the correct path."Relief poured over her like a wave, and tears pricked her eyes. This was the moment she had been waiting for—the first ray of hope on her long journey to recovery. "Thank you," she said, her voice shaking with the weight of her appreciation. "Thank you for believing in me."He caught her eyes, and something unsaid went between them—a mutual understanding, a recognition of their weaknesses. "You believed in yourself, Suzan," he replied softly and sincerely. "That's what matters most."For a brief moment, the antiseptic atmosphere of the operating room slipped away, leaving just the two of them poised on the verge of something more. Suzan felt a surge of bravery well up inside her, a knowledge that she was more than her wounds, more than the pain that defined her.Suzan couldn't help but look back at Dave as the nurse started to bring her to the recovery room. In that short interaction, he saw her for who she actually was: a woman striving for her identity, value, and position in the world.