Open Heart

"It is my duty to inform you that the procedure comes with the risk of death. If you still want to go through with surgery, then you must sign here."

Dr. Timothy Graham shoved a clipboard into the patient's left hand and a pen into his right. The patient smirked and tried to bring the two together, but the handcuffs holding his wrists to the gurney restricted him.

"Can I have her sign for me, doc?" said the patient.

He nodded toward the doorway, where Dr. Brenda Shaw stood, waiting to explain the anesthesia process. Dr. Graham barely registered Dr. Shaw's presence and took back his clipboard and pen.

"If you can't sign, I will sign for you. I don't have time to waste. You have verbally consented, and that's all I need."

"I don't consent, unless I can smell her. She looks good enough to eat." said the patient.

Dr. Graham looked over and finally realized that his patient, Charles Morris, the "Candyland Killer," was sizing up his anesthesiologist.

"No, Mr. Morris, that is not going to happen. I will either take your verbal consent now, or you will have no surgery and most likely die in less than two hours. What is your decision?"

Pale and sweaty, Charles Morris stared through Dr. Shaw, licking his yellow gums and teeth.

"Do you think I'm afraid of death, sweetheart? I am not. I will live forever in the memory of all the mothers of my victims."

Dr. Shaw felt a wave of nausea crash against the back of her throat. She excused herself and stepped out of the preoperative suite.

A few moments later, Dr. Shaw stood in the OR lounge, pouring two coffees and trying to mentally prepare for anesthetizing the Candyland Killer. Dr. Graham burst through the door.

"I swear to God, if it weren't for ethics, I would refuse to perform this surgery. We should be letting this piece of human waste die."

Dr. Timothy Graham saved uncountable lives throughout his career. As the region's greatest cardiovascular surgeon, the open heart he was about to perform was almost elementary. Just a single bypass, but the artery affected was in the patient's main stem. If the prison guard had chosen to ignore the cries of intractable chest pain for even thirty more minutes, then the patient would have been dead before arriving at the emergency room. Instead, they rushed Charles Morris to the hospital. Dr. Graham was reeling about having to save the life of the Candyland Killer.

"It's okay. He doesn't bug me too much." said Dr. Shaw. "Here, your usual pre-op coffee. Two creams, two and a half sugars."

Dr. Graham accepted his coffee, sipped, and sighed.

"I'm better than this. I should be able to refuse certain surgeries. God chose this man, if that's what you call him, to die today. But no, they called me in to save his life. It almost makes everything I've done seem worthless."

Dr. Shaw was staring at the floor, smiling.

"You should become an anesthesiologist. It'll be fun putting him to sleep."

Dr. Graham smirked back.

"After the way he looked at you, I don't know. If it were me, I would enjoy it a little too much."

Dr. Shaw shrugged and both doctors sat in silence. Neither one looked forward to repairing the heart of such a deranged lunatic. Charles Morris was pure evil.

An overhead announcement declared the OR suite was ready for the two physicians. Dr. Graham chugged the last of his coffee, slammed the cup down, and marched to the door.