His normal mood is quite sour. Typically indifferent. He’s not chatty, never cracks a smile, never jokes around. All you normally get out of him are softly-spoken and terse, hard to understand answers.

That day he agreed that the prognosis was probably hopeless. When I called with an update on her deteriorating condition, he said he wasn’t surprised but that he’d be in to see her. He was there within 15 minutes. His mood was elevated to what most people would describe as ambivalent. He seemed almost chatty. More willing to explain things. I was surprised.

During the procedure, his cell phone rang with what sounded like an annoying pop song. His eyes, usually partly cloudy, became dark and stormy. One of us was holding her still, the other was sterile. He fixed his troubled gaze at the one remaining nurse in the room and said, “Can you get that?”

Not an unusual request.

The nurse lifted up his scrub top a little to find the cell phone clipped to his waistband. She had some trouble getting the phone off the holder, and before she could answer it, he said,

Ask her what the hell she’s thinking calling me right now.

Ask her what could possibly possess her to bother me at this moment.

Ask her!

The nurse and I involuntarily glanced at each other. What the…?

She opened the phone and said,

“Hello?”

“Um… he’s busy right now… can he…”

“TELL HER I’LL CALL HER BACK WHEN I AM DAMN GOOD AND READY! TELL HER SHE’S AN IDIOT FOR EVEN THINKING THAT I COULD STOP WHAT I AM DOING TO TALK TO HER AT THIS POINT IN TIME!”

“Um… did you hear… ? Ok… Bye.”

“What did she say?”

The nurse and I exchanged glances once again. This did not go unnoticed.

“Nothing. She said nothing.”

Turning towards the nurse that was sterile, his eyes starting to clear from hurricane to mere tropical storm, he said, “I need the drill now.”

And that was that.