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“Last call for passengers boarding American Airlines flight 184. I repeat, last call for passengers boarding American Airlines flight 184 at gate C11, departing for Paris. We will be closing the gate in five minutes.”
“Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no!”
A frazzled forty- or fifty-something woman with frazzled red hair ran through the airport, the rollers of her suitcase rumbling across the tiled floor, the handbag slung over her shoulder bouncing around and threatening to slip. Nobody paid her any mind as she dodged and weaved through the crowded terminal. Everybody had their own luggage in hand and thoughts on their minds. She wasn’t the only one in a rush.
The slowpokes who had arrived at their destination and were now enjoying a Sunday stroll were really getting on her nerves.
She saw the sign with the big, bold letters: C11. “Wait! I’m here! Flight 184 to Paris! Wait!”
The stewardess behind the podium turned a sympathetic gaze on the woman racing toward her. This was not the first time she’d seen a passenger in such a state, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. She also knew at a glance the suitcase rolling behind the passenger was over the size limit.
“I’m here,” the red-head gasped, letting go of the suitcase handle to rummage through her purse. The suitcase fell over backwards. “Boarding pass, boarding pass, boarding pass… There it is! Oh, but you need my ID, don’t you?” She presented the boarding pass to the stewardess and resumed digging, now for her identification. “I’m so sorry, it’s been a day. My car overheated, and I had to call a tow truck and then get an Uber, and… ID! Here you go. Oh, my suitcase…”
“Welcome to flight 184 to Paris, Ms. Sally Fields,” the stewardess said on script, scanning, tearing, and stamping by habit. “I’m afraid you’ll have to check that suitcase.”
“Oh, I… Oh, no.” Sally seemed at a loss for words, too flustered to respond. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.
The stewardess felt bad for her. The woman in the picture on Sally’s ID had a bright smile and a fair, freckled face framed by red curls that were somehow both messy and neat. She looked put together, confident.
But the woman standing before the stewardess had a face so flushed her freckles were invisible, a veritable mane of matted red hair, and, when the stewardess looked down at the suitcase, she also noticed the woman was wearing mismatched shoes.
“I’ll take care of it, ma’am. You’re welcome to board. Enjoy your flight.”
Sally sighed, her shoulders slumping as the tension drained out of them. “Thank you so much.”
It was a striking contrast. Sally, in a state, and the stewardess, looking like she could model for Stewardess Weekly at the drop of a hat. A perfect tailored suit jacket and skirt over a wrinkle-free button-down shirt, black flats polished to a high shine, makeup that enhanced her almond-shaped dark chocolate eyes and brought a radiant glow to her milk chocolate skin, and black hair cropped close to her head. An exotic beauty with the body of a supermodel and a smile Oprah would envy.
A woman Sally tried not to envy as she walked past the stewardess and into the tunnel connecting the gate to the plane.
She needed this vacation.
The other stewardesses welcoming her onto the plane were as neat and organized as the first stewardess, although none matched her in beauty. Sally reminded herself they were on the job. They had to look good. She put in an effort when she was working, too.
Most of the time.
She consulted her boarding pass again for her seat number. It was probably the only empty seat left on the plane.
There it was. Right on the aisle. Perfect.
With no carry-on to stow in the luggage compartment, she immediately dropped into her seat, dropped her purse on her lap, fastened her seatbelt, and opened her purse for another rummaging session.
“Sally?”
She froze.
She turned her head slowly.
Her ex-husband was sitting right next to her.
“Oh, no. Stewardess!” She raised her voice and her hand. “Stewardess!”
Her ex sighed. “Don’t make a fuss about it, Sally. Surely we can handle one plane flight without killing each other.”
Sally’s head whipped around to face him, her green eyes flashing, her lips set in a scowl. “What are you even doing on this flight? You never told me you were going to Paris.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything. We’re not married anymore. But since you’re asking, what are you doing on this flight? You never told me, either!”
“Is there a problem?” asked a stewardess. This one was a petite blonde with a peaches and cream voice.
Sally’s mane of red hair whipped her ex in the face when she jerked her head around to look up at the stewardess. “Is there any way I can change my seat?”
Those perfect cupid’s bow pink lips gave Sally a perfect sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid not. Every seat is taken.”
Sally sighed. “Well, thank you, anyway.”
She sagged back in her seat, resigned to a horrible flight. The stewardess left, and the man in the seat on Sally’s right hesitated.
“Have you taken Dramamine yet?”
“Oh…” She sat up straight again, digging through the mess that was her purse for the little tube of pills. Just because the company would be horrible didn’t mean she wanted to spend the entire flight in the bathroom vomiting. “Darn it. I forgot my water…”
“Here.”
She frowned at the bottle of Aquafina thrust in her face. It had been five years since she’d last shared anything with this man, and she didn’t want to break that streak by sharing his germs.
But, again, it was better than vomiting.
Somewhat.
“Thanks,” she muttered, taking the bottle with the greatest reluctance.
He watched her toss two pills in her mouth and swallow them with a big gulp of water. And another gulp. And another.
“Hey, stop chugging it. I’d like something to drink, too.”
She shot him another glare as she screwed on the cap. “They’ll serve refreshments.”
“Not right away.”
She shoved the bottle in his chest. “Here.”
“A little ‘thank you’ would be nice.”
“I already thanked you.”
Back to rummaging in the purse. This time, the object she wanted was much easier to find. It was the biggest thing in there.
“You’re not planning on working, are you?”
Sally bent over and stuffed her purse under the seat in front of her, clutching her laptop on her lap. “I just have a few notes to finish from my patients yesterday.”
He sighed. “Sally—”
“I don’t want a lecture on work-life balance from a man who could never find the time to leave the office and come home.”
A sullen silence fell between them. She opened her laptop, logged in, and pulled up the practice management software. A Sticky Note on the desktop listed the names of the patients whose notes she needed to finalize.
“‘Teddy Boo-Boo’?” her ex asked. “‘Mr. Snuffles’? What was it, let your five-year-old name your dog day?”
“Teddy Boo-Boo was named by a five-year-old twelve years ago. The family brought him in for euthanasia. Including the now seventeen-year-old boy bawling his eyes out.”
Her ex’s smirk slipped from his face. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
Sally sighed. “You had no way of knowing.”
“That sounds pretty rough.”
She shrugged. “Comes with the job.” She sighed again. “But yeah. I’ve been seeing Teddy Boo-Boo since he was a puppy, and that boy came to every appointment unless he had school or was sick. He really loved that dog.”
She pulled up the SOAP notes for yesterday. Her veterinary assistant had already filled everything out during the appointment, but it had been a long day, and she had no time to review them before she had to leave to make her kids dinner. She’d startled both her seventeen-year-old boy and her golden retriever with the bear hugs she gave them when she got home.
The golden retriever loved it. The teenager pretended to hate it.
Subjective:
Teddy Boo-Boo is a 12-year-old golden retriever presenting for humane euthanasia. Health has been deteriorating for months, O concerned about P’s QOL. Wants private cremation.
Nothing to add there.
Objective:
T: 99.5 P: 60 R: 12
Normal temperature, but lower than Teddy’s usual. Same with heart and respiratory rates.
bcs: 3/9 (50 lb)
He’d been losing weight steadily for a while now. She remembered when he was a seventy-pound dog with strong muscle definition beneath a rich, flowing amber coat.
msi: significant generalized muscle atrophy, dull hair coat
And so it went. All the physical examination findings that confirmed what she already knew: Teddy’s health had declined and he had a poor quality of life. It was time.
Assessment:
She stared at the blank section. Her veterinary assistant hadn’t filled it in, but that wasn’t unusual. Especially when there was no definitive diagnosis.
Assessment:
Poor quality of life
That was all she could say. The battery of tests she’d performed over the past months were all inconclusive, and the family couldn’t afford to take Teddy to a specialist. And he was a twelve-year-old golden retriever. Even if they found the cause and could afford treatment, what would that buy him? Another year, maybe?
Plan:
Treatment:
Placed 18g IVC right cephalic
Butorphanol (10 mg/mL) __ mL IV @ 5:15 pm
Euthasol (__ mg/mL) IV __ mL @ 5:20 pm
Verified cardiac arrest.
Prognosis: Guarded without further diagnostics and treatment
Client education: Discussed prognosis with client. Elected for humane euthanasia with private cremation. Declined necropsy.
Follow-up care: N/A
The veterinary assistant had forgotten to fill in some numbers. Sally knew the concentration of Euthasol off the top of her head, but she couldn’t remember how much she administered of either drug. She picked up her phone and texted Lizzie a reminder to fill that in.
“Now, on to Mr. Snuffles…”
Her ex cleared his throat. “Dare I ask?”
“He’s a Shih Tzu owned by a seventy-year-old woman who treats him like a baby. Just routine vaccinations.”
“Oh, well, that’s good.”
A ding overhead signified an announcement coming over the public address system. Sally kept typing as the pilot rattled off his introduction. Next came the stewardesses demonstrating the use of the oxygen masks as the pilot delivered the standard safety instructions, then the directive to put all electronics in airplane mode and stow everything for takeoff.
Sally had just snapped the laptop closed when her phone chimed.
Lizzie: Oh, crap! I forgot. Will do right now
Lizzie: Btw, we have a DKA today
Sally frowned. Diabetic ketoacidosis was an extremely complicated condition resulting from uncontrolled diabetes. It required multiple days of hospitalization with intensive care, and it was not something the veterinarian she’d left in charge had handled before. She’d been out of veterinary school and at the clinic for just over a year now, though, and she loved internal medicine cases, so she might be fine…
Sally: How’s Glitter handling it?
Lizzie: Pretty well. She didn’t want to bother you on your vacation, so she’s been texting H. Transferring to ER tonight. No freak-outs
Sally breathed a sigh of relief. Dr. Glazier’s anxiety when faced with complex cases while working alone was getting better, and Dr. Howell was a close friend and an internal medicine specialist. The patient was in good hands.
Sally: 👍
Sally: Who is it, btw?
Lizzie: Muffin *gasp*
Lizzie: I know you’re shocked 😉
Sally smiled and shook her head. She’d been warning Muffin’s owner about the risk of diabetes from morbid obesity, but they’d kept overfeeding the poor Chihuahua until she was easily double her ideal weight. Maybe now they’d listen.
Sally: I told them!
Sally: At least they can afford this
“Ma’am, is your phone in airplane mode?” a stewardess asked.
Sally looked up at the exotic beauty who had checked her suitcase. “Oh, uh, sorry. I’ll do that right now.”
Lizzie: Yeah, right?
Sally: Gtg
Sally: And put your phone away! You’re supposed to be working! 😉
Sally swiped down from the notification bar and tapped “Airplane Mode.” Lizzie sent her a screenshot of Teddy Boo-Boo’s completed notes and a smiley face with its tongue sticking out while she did so, and Sally smiled again.
The clinic rule was no phones on the job, but Lizzie had two little kids and had to keep hers on her in case the school or daycare called about them, and she was never one to procrastinate or skip out on work because of phone use. If she was texting on the job, it was either to talk to somebody about a patient or her kids, and she was probably doing it in between notes, cleaning kennels, running blood work, and all the other myriad tasks veterinary assistants performed. No Facebook or Instagram use.
Right when Sally was about to turn close out of her messages, she saw another one pop up.
Lizzie: They sent you flowers, btw 🥺
A lump rose in Sally’s throat. She put her hand to her mouth and turned her phone off, blinking furiously to stop the tears. She’d just euthanized their dog, and they’d sent her flowers.
“Something wrong?” her ex asked.
She shook her head and swallowed the lump down. “No.”
He hesitated. “Okay, well… So, Paris. How’d that happen?”
He had to raise his voice over the roar of the engines as the plane taxied along the runway. Sally turned to look at him fully and raised her voice as well.
“I won it in a radio giveaway. How about you?”
“The WRTP giveaway?”
She stared at him in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?”
He grinned. “I won it, too.”
That smile. A single butterfly that had no business getting involved in this conversation flapped its wings once in her stomach at the sight of it. That smile was the reason he’d first caught her eye when she was an undergraduate in college, and twenty-some years later, it still held all the same boyish charm.
He’d aged well. His red hair was still as vibrant as ever, the short, straight locks much neater than her mess of hair, and the crow’s feet at the corners of his green eyes added distinction to his face. A blend of boyish good looks and handsome maturity.
He still had a flat stomach, too. It made her uncomfortable about all the extra weight she was carrying.
But why should that bother her? She wasn’t trying to impress him.
“Ugh. Does that mean we’ll be staying at the same hotel, too?” she grumbled.
He shrugged. “Maybe?"
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