Medical Center.
Operating Room.
"So why'd it catch fire this time?" Leonard asked, frowning.
Hospital fires aren't exactly rare. And operating room fires? They make up the bulk of them. It's not even that surprising when you think about it. The OR's got the perfect storm for a fire: flammable stuff, oxygen, and ignition sources.
Let's break it down.
Flammable materials? Oh, plenty. High-proof alcohol is everywhere in a surgical suite that needs to be scrubbed down and disinfected. Surgical drapes cover the patient, leaving just the operating area exposed. Then there's the piles of cotton balls and towels for soaking up blood—sometimes they even forget one inside a patient's chest cavity. You can imagine how often those get used. Add in all the random supplies, rubber, and plastic bits, and yeah, it's a tinderbox waiting to happen.
Oxidizers? You bet. Oxygen's the big one. ORs are packed with people working long, intense hours, so to keep everyone sharp and avoid oxygen shortages, they use a fancy system—think air conditioning pumped with a mix of medical-grade, high-concentration oxygen and regular air. It's just enough to perk up the docs and nurses, keep them alert, and fight off fatigue. But that oxygen-rich air? It's like a fire's best friend.
Then there's nitrous oxide—laughing gas. It's mostly phased out of ORs these days, but outside? Totally different story. Some folks—especially girls—love huffing it to numb out until they're basically jelly. Compressed air for ventilators and other gear's in the mix too. Oh, and the room's usually a positive-pressure environment for non-contagious surgeries—higher pressure inside than out. Higher pressure lowers the ignition point, so things catch fire even easier.
And ignition sources? Take your pick: electrocautery tools, surgical lasers, drills, sparks. Electricity and fire go hand in hand.
That's why ORs have crazy strict fire prevention rules. Fires just shouldn't happen. And a patient's chest catching fire during heart surgery? In this day and age, that's straight-up unheard of. Leonard was totally thrown.
"Mrs. Griswold had a sudden pneumothorax—a tiny tear in her lung tissue," Adam piped up. He'd already run the scenario in his head. "High-purity oxygen from her breathing leaked out, hit a spark from the cautery tool, and landed on a dry hemostatic towel. In that oxygen-heavy environment, boom—fire."
Leonard raised an eyebrow. "You said earlier she got pissed off at Mr. Griswold?"
"Yeah," Adam nodded. "She was clutching her chest, struggling to breathe. The heart attack masked the pneumothorax symptoms."
Leonard mulled it over and gave a nod. Made sense. They'd confirm it once the surgery wrapped up and they could check her lung tissue.
In Western medicine, tons of conditions share the same symptoms—sometimes dozens, even hundreds. Patients can have multiple issues at once, and the signs overlap. In emergencies, it's way too easy to focus on the big problem and miss the sneaky secondary one. Even Dr. House next door gets tricked by that kind of thing all the time—running test after test, ruling stuff out, until he finally nails the real cause and fixes it.
"Adam, didn't you handle a case a while back where someone's lung basically exploded?" Leonard asked with a grin.
"Yup," Adam chuckled. "Some kid was gaming, got wrecked by his little cousin, and lost it. His lung had a big bleb that popped—literally 'blew up from anger.' Gave a whole new meaning to 'pissed off' and 'anger hurts.' Looks like it's not just the young ones who can blow a gasket, huh?"
Leonard sighed and shook his head. Still, despite the chaos, the surgery went off without a hitch. Mrs. Griswold's a tough one—her will to live was unreal.
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patreon:belamy20
Family Waiting Area.
Adam and Leonard stepped out together to update Mr. Griswold, who'd been pacing out there, about the surgery's success—and the wild hiccup.
"Her heart caught fire?" Mr. Griswold blinked, stunned.
"Yeah," Adam said, launching into the explanation. He walked him through it, and the post-op checks backed him up. "I know it sounds nuts, but it's not as weird as you'd think. The surgery went great, and your wife's gonna pull through just fine."
"Heh… hehehe… HAHAHA!"
Mr. Griswold slapped his hands over his face, his expression all twisted up. Then he couldn't hold it in—started with a quiet chuckle, then a giggle, and finally full-on belly laughs. When he noticed Adam and Leonard staring, he tried to dial it back to a snicker, but by the end, he was cracking up again.
"Heh, so in her fourth heart surgery, her heart catches fire, and she still survives? She's gonna be fine after this? HAHAHA!"
Adam and Leonard exchanged a look—half amused, half exasperated. Clearly, this "good news" wasn't what Mr. Griswold had been hoping for.
"She's like… like some kind of mysterious monster!" he said, waving a finger in the air, grinning ear to ear. "The kind that never dies!"
"Ahem," Adam coughed lightly. "Mr. Griswold, maybe you should take a breather, process this? We can chat more later if you—"
"Wait? No! No way! I'm done waiting!" Mr. Griswold shook his head like a madman, jumped up, shoved his wife's purse into Adam's hands, grabbed his coat, and started dancing toward the exit.
"Tell her—yeah, tell her—even without me, she'll keep on living just fine! HAHAHA!"
A few steps out, he spun back, flashed a goofy salute at Adam and Leonard, yanked the door open, and strode off, laughing like a lunatic.
"Hope we don't need to call psych for him," Leonard muttered, shaking his head.
"Nah," Adam said with a wry smile. "He's just letting it all out. I get it."
Oh, he got it alright. Back when he first crossed over to this world and found out his girlfriend was the infamous throat-slitting pro, Magic Amy? Those days of walking on eggshells were brutal. After busting his ass to turn himself into a drama king just so she'd dump him, the moment he was free, he'd screamed his head off too. Probably looked just as unhinged as Mr. Griswold.
The more pent-up you are, the crazier the release. Totally normal—not nuts. He'd calm down once the high wore off.
"Hey, isn't that first-ever adult male teratoma removal surgery happening this afternoon too?" Leonard glanced at his watch and stood. "It's probably still going. Wanna swing by?"
"Sure," Adam agreed, no hesitation.
Observation Room.
The surgery was a long one. A bunch of docs who'd snagged standing-room spots got paged out before it was over, so by the time Adam and Leonard rolled in, it was crowded but doable.
Adam peeked in and spotted Christina standing there as second assistant. He smirked—score! A rare surgery to watch and a favor in the bank.