Barnard Hall, in the heart of the west wing of the medical school, the Asclepius sancta sanctorum. The light of the sunset dripped from the dusty double-glazed windows and mixed with the cedar scent of the wooden stalls, arranged in steep theatre. A visitor who had passed the heavy double door would have undoubtedly caught the note of animal musk mixing with the wood essence. Smell of anxiety. Smell of hunted prey. Smell of university student exhausted during a long, endless session of exams.
"I strongly advise you to think carefully about your next words," Prof. Angelus said to the student.
Spread over several rows, set in the narrow space between the back and the table top, the remaining students were crossed by the icy scalpel blade of that voice.
"Here we are," Luke thought in a flash of conscious resignation.
It was the sixth time he had to repeat that exam: after five fails in a row his whole life have been interrupted and swallowed up in that black hole. By now he knew every detail of "At Heart of Cardiology", the three volumes treatise written by Prof. Angelus, a widely recognised eminence of cardiology.
For an eternal moment his thoughts dissociated from the scene and flew to that day three years earlier when, at the head of a handful of fifteen other students, Luke had decided to protest the decisions of the seventy-year-old professor.
"Do you mind if I ask you.. do you really intend to graduate in this university?" A stunned secretary had told him at some point, after the insistent protests of the student committee showed no sign of blurring. And at what levels could the power of an old ordinary professor, close to retirement, ever come? The answer did not wait and, just two months later, Prof. Angelus was acclaimed by the unanimous council as dean of the faculty. Luke was instantly fire-branded and he would never graduate from that university.
"Well?" The assistant, the professor's guard dog, broke the silence.
"The... the... commissurotomy can only be performed if the flaps are not calcified and the subvalvular apparatus is preserved. With a left anterior thoracotomy, the chest is accessed through the resection space of rib 5. Once the pericardium is opened through the left auricle, a diverter is introduced into the mitral ostium which, opening, forces the valvular flaps to separate the merged commissures." Luke answered almost without breathing, tense like a Vietcong in his tunnel paved of sleepless study nights.
The professor's nose had disgusting bright red veins, Luke did not know if he was breathing - or alive at all. He looked down at the white, protruding knuckles of his left hand, clinging to the arm of his chair, and waited for his fate.
"Twenty-six, do you accept?". A note of irony in that electric scalpel voice.
"Yes. Sorry, I'll take the transcripts." Luke stumbled into his bag, looking through the notebooks for the grade transcripts. He had not even brought the booklet with him since there was so little hope of passing the exam.
The professor absent-mindedly drew a twenty-four and a signature in cuneiform spelling.
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The cold light of the Pentaled surgical light-head outlined the instruments neatly aligned as efficient soldiers ready to execute his orders. It was almost pleasant to the watchful eyes of Dr. Luke Richards, a promising cardio-surgeon and head of the famous Royal Brompton Hospital in Chelsea, London.
"Doctor, we have verified that a serious heart attack is going on. The frequency is 207 bpm. We administered 50 mg of protamine sulfate, the patient did not react. Furthermore, his wife informed us of a complication deriving from senile cardiac amyloidosis."
"A very normal case that could be safely entrusted to the Mako-bot" Dr. Richards determined instantly by glancing quickly at the operating table, automated and managed by the hospital central A.I.
He snorted slightly. Evidently, the patient had enough influence not only to obtain a human operation, but also to have the Chief Cardiac Surgeon out of bed at three o'clock in the night.
"Who do we have here, doctor?"
"This is a certain Prof. Daniel Angelus".
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‘I’ll be damned! The crazy old log lives.’ A moment of feeling of acquaintance soon gave way to contempt, hurt, anger and most of all a need to avenge the unruly experience at the hands of the egotistical monster. Luke’s mind was racing to do all that he was professionally expected to avert.
“What’s Mako’s suggested course?”
“A coronary by-pass.”
Luke wanted to see the man eye-to-eye. The bugger needs to know who he was dealing with. As he started towards professor’s ward, Luke happened to glance upon the MRI scans lit up on the monochromatic screen.
“Hold on. Whose scans are those?”
“That’s Prof. Angelus’.” The assistant doctor did not make sense. If he was right then a by-pass was not the solution.
“That can’t be right. Show me the complete report.” Pride in treating patients took over Luke's childish ego and hatred.
“Were all these information fed into Mako?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Any chance Prof. Angelus saw all these reports?”
“He did.”
‘That smart bugger.’ Luke had a hint of admiration for the professor. “Alright, Mako is wrong. Please update the diagnosis error in the log.”
“That has never happened. How do you mean?”
“It has happened and happened thrice before," Luke continued, “the report says that the patient has complications arising from senile cardiac amyloidosis and has not reacted to protamine, and yet the heart rate is at 207 bpm.”
“Correct.”
“And look at this. The cardiac MRI and MRI of major organs.”
“Oh, my God! How did Mako miss this?”
“Mako has not taken into consideration the swelling of other organs. Which means it is not a simple by-pass but…”
“But an Aortic Debranching.” The Assistant Doctor completed Luke’s sentence.
“Yes. Call on Doctor Carlos and Ben. This could well be a 15-20 hour procedure.”
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“You don’t remember me, do you?” Luke was chatting with the now recovered professor.
“I do. Who doesn’t know Dr. Luke? And, of course, a student from my university.” A sense of guilt was visible despite the professor's best attempt to stay terse.
“You knew Mako was wrong.”
“Yes, I read the diagnosis and realized it did not concur with my reports."
“That was smart.”
“Luke, I find it difficult to admit..... but I apologize for what you went through…”
“It’s okay. I am the one who started the protest in the first place. Besides, you gave me a good case to work over the weekend, so I forgive you.” Both Luke and the professor laughed.
“I got to be going professor. Get well soon.”
“Years back, I wouldn’t have expected to hear that from you.”
“Years back, I wouldn’t have known better!” Luke smiled and proceeded to meet his other patients. A sense of completion filled his heart!
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This story is written in response to 
Image Courtesy: Peter-Lomas @ Pixabay and "Finish the Story" banner.
