Foreman rushed out of the control booth and into the main room. Their patient had fallen off the treadmill and he was curled in the fetal position, clutching at his abdomen. When Foreman rolled him over to face him, the blank look on his face had returned. Foreman hauled him up bodily and sat him back down in the wheelchair. They'd have to get him back to his room as fast as possible and hook him back up to the monitors so that they'd have an idea of what kind of effect was happening, even if they didn't yet know the cause. The patient was grimacing and leaning forward, but the initial spasm of pain seemed to have passed--luckily for them, it looked like he wouldn't simply drop dead before they'd diagnosed him.
Foreman took the handles of the wheel chair and headed for the doors. If he and Amber really were working together professionally, then he trusted her to have saved the test results, even if they were inconclusive, so he didn't waste time by going back to double check her work. "He's stable," he told her. "We'll get him back upstairs and page House."
He headed for the elevator again, slightly faster this time--he wanted to be sure that they'd be within range of a crash cart if the patient suddenly developed more symptoms. Even so, he was still scoffing mentally at Amber's last words. Being right hadn't helped him reach his goals; in fact, it had gotten directly in his way. It had been his first big case at Mercy; if he'd developed a reputation, if he'd documented his ideas and recorded his objections to Dr. Schaeffer's hesitation, he could have been on record as being right--when the patient died. If he'd been as career-driven as Amber seemed to be, maybe he would have let her die. He still didn't know if he'd acted for himself or for her, and Foreman found himself wondering what Amber would do in the same situation. Whether getting fired would have been worth that woman's life to her. "If being right was all that mattered, I'd still be in New York," he said. "I guess neither of us have learned how to win by being wrong."
no subject
Foreman took the handles of the wheel chair and headed for the doors. If he and Amber really were working together professionally, then he trusted her to have saved the test results, even if they were inconclusive, so he didn't waste time by going back to double check her work. "He's stable," he told her. "We'll get him back upstairs and page House."
He headed for the elevator again, slightly faster this time--he wanted to be sure that they'd be within range of a crash cart if the patient suddenly developed more symptoms. Even so, he was still scoffing mentally at Amber's last words. Being right hadn't helped him reach his goals; in fact, it had gotten directly in his way. It had been his first big case at Mercy; if he'd developed a reputation, if he'd documented his ideas and recorded his objections to Dr. Schaeffer's hesitation, he could have been on record as being right--when the patient died. If he'd been as career-driven as Amber seemed to be, maybe he would have let her die. He still didn't know if he'd acted for himself or for her, and Foreman found himself wondering what Amber would do in the same situation. Whether getting fired would have been worth that woman's life to her. "If being right was all that mattered, I'd still be in New York," he said. "I guess neither of us have learned how to win by being wrong."