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chapter 8

Two Pigs and a Pen

Portland, Oregon

September 2002

Virginia Morrison felt more than a little uneasy. It was her next-to-last semester at OHSU nursing school, but her first exposure to the world of psychiatric disorders. She had heard horror stories from some of her other classmates about what went on behind the locked double doors looming ominously in front of her, and she wondered just what percentage of them were actually true. Even one would be more than enough, she told herself nervously, wiping the perspiration from her hand as she reached for the intercom to be buzzed in.

“Ms. Morrison!” The sound of her instructor, Kathryn Walker, a few steps behind, stopped her arm in midair. “Wait just a second and we’ll all go in together. There’s always a risk when the doors are opened, so they ask us to come in as a group, rather than one or two at a time. Aren’t you a bit anxious?” she queried as Gin quickly lowered her arm.

“Well, yes ma’am,” she replied, her voice reflecting a good bit of uncertainty. “I knew you all were just behind me, so I thought I might as well let them know we’re here.”

“And that’s certainly fine,” Ms. Walker added reassuringly. “It might be better to let me handle the request for entry this time, though, since it is our first visit, and you students are all new around here. I’m really the one they’re used to dealing with. Is that ok with you, sweetie?”

“Certainly, Ms. Walker. Didn’t mean to be presumptuous. Go right ahead.” Gin winced, imperceptibly she hoped, at the thought of being called “sweetie.” Anyone growing up with Virginia Sue Morrison would never have used the word “sweetie” to describe her. The flaming red-headed daughter of Frank and Mary Morrison would hardly ever have qualified for so gentle an epithet. Her three sisters would have more likely deemed her hellcat than sweetie, but then again, they lived with her, and knew all too well her rather tart wit and piercing temper. Reaching her twenty-first birthday had brought a welcome diminution of the latter, but hardly to the point of “sweetie.” Gin’s hallmark keen mind and highly perceptive nature continued on unabated, however, making her a rather remarkable student, and certainly a leader among her classmates.

Kathryn Walker was no newcomer to the game either. At forty-two years of age, and with over twenty years as a registered nurse, she was a strong asset to the OHSU nursing program. With her doctorate in nursing practice, she was well equipped, experientially and educationally, to turn out new graduates who could think on the fly and adapt quickly to the ever-changing demands of clinical nursing. Kathryn was proud to be a nurse, and endeavored to create in her students an appreciation of the vast treasure house of knowledge and skills associated with the title RN. She was a true gentle Southern woman, however, and prone to such pet names as “honey,” “sweetie,” “sugah,” “darlin’,” and on the rare occasion, when more reassurance was needed, even “sugah dumplin.’” (In the Deep South, the r’s and g’s were just too guttural and consequently, abandoned.) Gin was no exception to that rule, and today’s title was just a cultural remnant, never intended to be anything more.

As she pressed the intercom button, Kathryn wondered for a moment how her eight students would adapt to the locked environment they were about to enter. Inside, there were no more “norms” for behavior, no expectations, and certainly a total lack of predictability. Many equated this with a lack of stability as well, but to Kathryn, there was an odd sort of homeostasis about the unit. Admittedly, there were certainly flare-ups and many highly atypical behaviors, but they really didn’t surprise her much anymore. After eight years of bringing students here for their psych rotations, she had pretty much seen it all, or at least so she thought. And really, Kathryn sort of enjoyed the lack of convention and the unrestrained spontaneity she often encountered there. Here, there were no filters, no charades, no “appropriate” choices, no cover-ups—just raw, unrestrained emotions coupled with a conspicuous absence of normal controls. The unpredictability she found fascinating juxtaposed within her very orderly, sometimes too rational universe. Kathryn herself thrived on variety, and enjoyed exposing her students to worlds they had not encountered before, just to see how they would respond. Inevitably, those with the most flexibility, open-mindedness, and adaptability went on to become the most highly regarded professionals in their chosen field. So this ward was a proving ground of sorts.

“3B, Tom Jameson, RN,” crackled over the intercom and brought Kathryn back to the moment.

“Hey Tom, Kathryn Walker, OHSU. Got your new students for the semester here, all eight of them. If things are ok in there, we’d like to come in and let them get used to their new home!”

“Oouu, Katie, my favorite! Broke my heart when you left us last spring! Sure darlin’, come on in.” As Tom’s voice rasped over the intercom speaker, it became clear to all that formalities were refreshingly absent here. There was a collective sigh of relief coupled with anticipation as the electronic lock clicked the door open and Katie’s young brood somewhat hesitantly entered “Tom’s World” for the first time.

“By the way,” Kathryn reminded them as they walked through the doors, “if I were you, I would remove my school photo ID. These are definitely not the sort of people you want remembering your name, or somehow finding out where you live.” With that, she took off her own badge and followed them in.

Striding down the hall in their direction was a short, stocky, muscular, middle-aged man with a dark mustache and thinning black hair. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed Kathryn, and after a 360-degree spin about two feet off the ground, parked her back on the glistening hall floor followed by an affectionate bear hug. “Katie, you’re always a welcome sight here. And what a good-looking flock you’ve brought with you!” he exclaimed, letting his eyes wander over the small group of students in her care. Finally fixing on Gin, he added, “And a redhead too! We’re gonna have some fun this semester!”

Gin probably would have blushed had she not been completely used to the attention her bright-red hair inevitably brought her. “No dumb blondes this time,” she quipped, knowing full well the remainder of the group had much darker hair than hers.

“Well, I may have to change my tactics, then!” Tom volleyed back. “Good to have you all,” he added quickly. “Now ladies…AND gentleman,” he added, noting the one male student, Arthur Middlebrook, “please close that door quickly before the Dobermans get out. For some reason, they just don’t do as well in the rest of the hospital,” he chuckled with a mischievous wink, as he began to walk back toward the nurses’ station.

Kathryn wasn’t kidding when she said “unpredictable environment,” Gin mused quietly, following Tom down the hall. This guy’s a real piece of work himself! Still mulling that over in her mind, her attention was abruptly redirected by the sounds of screaming and cursing coming from a room about ten feet down the hall on the left-hand side. Suddenly the door opened and a chair came sailing out into the hallway. “Goddamn motherfuckers!” echoed out through the door as the chair landed, and the source was soon identifiable as a disheveled young woman in her late twenties, now clearly visible in the doorway. “You got no right to keep me here! I ain’t done nothin’ wrong—just got a little pissed at my ex, that’s all. I’d a cut his balls off if I’d-a been able to get near ’em!” she shrieked with a swooping motion of her right arm. “He’d-a deserved whatever I done to him, though, after what he did to my daughter. If that fuckin’ cunt-licker ever gets near her again, he won’t be around to know what the hell hit him. I’ll bust his skull open like one o’ them ripe melons. Bastard! What the hell are you all lookin’ at bitch, huh? Ain’t you ever seen nobody pissed off before? By god, he’s lucky I only got him once with that knife. If he hadn’t-a fuckin’ sat on me and called the cops, I’d-a nailed his ass good. Motherfucker!”

Kathryn, Gin, and the group just stood there, literally with their mouths open in disbelief of the scene unfolding just a few feet in front of them. Kathryn, to be sure, had occasionally witnessed this sort of outburst before, but not often with the intensity and language exhibited by the young woman in their path. What an introduction, she thought to herself, as she wondered what might follow as an encore. Even Kathryn was somewhat taken aback by what happened next, however.

Without any warning, the young woman (they later discovered her name was Helen) planted her feet about a foot apart, squarely in front of them, grabbed the lapels of her plain white smock, and ripped it open from top to bottom, sending buttons flying everywhere. Covering her naked groin with one hand, and her prominent breasts with the other, she promptly dropped the hand covering her breasts, shook them at the students, and screamed, “Look at these tits! Don’t you think they’re big enough to satisfy any man?” Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that pussy either!” she shrieked, dropping her other hand from between her legs, as they all just stood there in total shock. “By god, he had no problem pumpin’ this twat full whenever he wanted! Why the fuck did he have to go and mess with my daughter too? Jesus, she was only nine. Guess her little cunt wadn’t big enough for that big cock o’ his and he had to use her mouth instead. I cain’t ever forget openin’ that door and seein’ him there, pumpin’ her mouth with that big dick. Goddamn, I’d kill him right now if I could just get my hands on him! I hate him, I just hate him for what he did to her. Fuckin’ pig! He deserves to die!” With that, Helen grabbed the chair she had thrown out into the hall and slammed it with all her might into the wall, sending pieces of wood flying in all directions. Kathryn ducked just in time to keep an aberrant leg from almost decapitating her, and Gin caught a piece of the back with her bare hands just as it was heading for her midsection. Her last effort seemed to have totally depleted her, however, and Helen slid down the wall to the floor and started to sob uncontrollably.

By now Tom had raced back down the hall from the nurses’ station and kneeled down beside her. “Helen, Helen, it’s ok, just calm down. He’s gone now, and your daughter is safe. These are students from the OHSU nursing program, and we’re all here to help you. I know you must be very angry and hurt, but we’re your friends. You’re safe here.”

The pain she must have felt had overwhelmed her anger now, and Helen sat sobbing, elbows on her knees and head between her hands. “Why…why did he have to go and do that?” she moaned. “That little girl never hurt nobody. She didn’t deserve that. It wadn’t like I didn’t give him all he wanted. Jesus, most o’ the time, I felt like a pincushion, with that thing poked into me from just about every angle, in every hole I got!” Helen had stopped crying now, and her anger was starting to build again.

Tom intervened quickly. “Come on, honey, let’s get up. We can’t change what’s happened, but believe me, it won’t happen again. I think you and your daughter have seen the last of that guy. The only place where he’ll be gettin’ off from now on will be in his cell!” With that, he reached for her arm to lift Helen to her feet. “Come on, Helen, let’s go back to your room and get another dress. You really did a number on this one!”

Helen looked down at her naked breasts and pubic area, which seemed to bring her back to the present. She pulled the two buttonless sides of her dress together in an attempt to cover herself, and turned toward her room with Tom’s help. She was silent now, head hung down, eyes fixed on the floor. It was as if her outburst of anger had drained all the life from her body and she had no reserve left. Still staring at the floor, she walked with Tom back through her open door with no resistance or further hostility.

“You all go on down to the nurses’ station,” Tom called over his shoulder. “I’ll be there in just a little bit.” With that, her door closed and the hall was strangely silent once again.

Within fifteen minutes or so, Tom had rejoined Kathryn and company at the desk. “Sorry about that, kids. Wasn’t the introduction I had planned for you, but hey, life is what it is. That’s why I like working here—you never know what’s coming at you next!” he grinned at the students’ obvious discomfort. “It’s not always like that,” he added reassuringly. “Just sometimes. And when it hits, you had better know what to do to diffuse the situation and protect yourself from harm. As a rule, these people don’t mean to hurt you, but they can, and will, if you’re in the way or you inadvertently antagonize them. Just remember, they’re all a bit lacking in self-control, which makes their world a bit more dramatic than yours.” He smiled again, knowing that this was probably a morning these students would not soon forget.

“Anyway, back to what I had originally planned to tell you, this is a twenty-bed acute psych unit, and now I think you have a pretty good idea what I mean by ACUTE! We have about fourteen patients at the moment and two other staff besides myself—another RN and an orderly. When the unit has more patients, we generally add a third RN. To your right here is the activity area, where patients can sit, relax, and read or watch a little TV. We do some group counseling here, and have a couple of private rooms for individual or family counseling. There is a psychiatric resident assigned to our unit, as well as a couple of clinical psychologists. Our average length of stay here is one to two weeks, and then the patients are referred to more appropriate long-term treatment environments. Some go home, some to other institutions, and some to jail. We do our best to stabilize them and develop a treatment plan to be implemented in whatever environment is appropriate. Patients have no personal belongings here and no access to most items that could be used to harm themselves or others. Occasionally they get creative, as you just witnessed.”

As Tom was speaking, Gin leaned over, smiled, and whispered to Kathryn, “This place kind of reminded me of home there for a minute. That girl Helen acted a lot like my sister Margie. I can vaguely remember her tossing a chair in my direction back when we were about eight. Not quite the same language, though!”

“Well, Ms. Morrison,” Kathryn whispered, “you should be used to keeping on your toes and covering your backside, then! I suspect you will do well here. Maybe even pick up some new vocabulary that might come in handy elsewhere,” she winked back at Gin.

As Tom was finishing his One-Minute Orientation, he added, “Right now most of our patients are in a group counseling session over there in the far corner of the activity area.” He pointed over to a group of about eleven patients and a mixture of staff who seemed to be having an animated discussion among themselves. “There are a couple of patients not in that group, though, that you all might find interesting. LaShon, the young black male sitting to your left by the wall with his head down, hasn’t said a word in the five days he’s been with us. He is only sixteen and was unfortunate enough to watch his father blow his mother all over their dining room wall with a shotgun before turning the gun on himself and decorating the opposite wall. A neighbor heard gunshots and called 911. When the officers arrived, they found LaShon sitting in the corner, looking pretty much like he is now. The absolute horror of that scene was more than he could cope with, and he’s been catatonic ever since. He shows no signs of emotion or even recognition of voices. Really sad.”

“Well, what can you do for him, then?” queried Arthur, the token male student, who still seemed a bit unnerved from the previous incident with Helen. “How long will he stay like that?” he asked, hoping for a more positive response.

“Hard to say,” Tom replied. “We don’t see this severe of a post-traumatic reaction all that often. Most of the ones I have seen generally snap out of it in a couple of weeks, IF they’re in a safe environment. At first, maybe just a flicker of recognition, then more as they begin to process what has happened to them and where they are. Cortisol-lowering meds can help to diminish the stress response. It’s very unpredictable, though. I’ve heard of people never coming out of it. Sometimes, the younger the patient, the more pronounced the reaction. Probably fewer life traumas at those ages and less coping ability.”

Tom glanced to his right over to the other patient not presently in the group—a thin and rather scruffy-looking midthirtyish man, with his feet propped up in a chair, watching Wheel of Fortune. “That’s Frank—he’s a regular here…alcohol, drugs, sex, pimping, petty theft, and a whole arsenal of totally bizarre behavior, which frequently gets him a paid vacation in Hotel Happy Times. Usually he lands on the medical floor first for a bit of detox and drying out before he makes it up to us. I think this is about his fourth visit in the three years I’ve been here. Just a menace to society that nobody can figure out how to redirect. He’s very disruptive in groups, just a big cut-up, which is why we do one-on-one with him. This time we’re running some biochemical and neurotransmitter profiles. Last admission we did a brain speed analysis on him, which was just amazing. His brain is smokin’ fast, about like a coke addict, which I guess was no surprise, although he’d been in for a couple of weeks, which should have cleared most of that stuff out. Could have been residual, I guess, but for my money, I think he’s naturally like that, and much of his behavior is just misdirected attempts to maintain that level of brain activity. If he’s still around next week, when your training formally starts, maybe Kathryn will assign a couple of you to Frank—should make for some interesting class discussions! Anyway, before you go, let’s walk on over there and I’ll give you a taste of Mr. Scumby. Can you believe that name?” With that, Tom headed over to the TV, with a rather-impish smile on his face. “Hey, Frank, got some company for you!”

“Hmmm,” Frank responded rather pensively while glancing over his shoulder at the approaching group. “Mother hen, her chicks, and one ugly duckling—no offense, pal,” he smirked, glancing in Arthur’s direction. “Can’t blame you, though, dude. Probably some good pussy in this group. Hey, who’s the redhead with the big tits? I’ll bet I could bang her right here in front of this wide-screen!”

“You’d lose,” Gin snapped back, fairly certain that he was referring to her. “Better stick to Vanna, cowboy. I’m sure she’s more your type.”

“Oou, this girl’s bedside manner rocks!” Frank continued with obvious sarcasm. “Maybe the old lady here can give you a few pointers on therapeutic responses. That tough talk probably gets your pussy wet, though, dudn’t it, baby?”

Gin turned, stared Frank squarely in the eye, and hissed, “In your dreams, you pervert!” She would have said a lot more, but a sharp tug on her arm aborted her attack.

“Ms. Morrison,” Kathryn whispered, “you’re out of control, and he’s manipulating you. Responding like this is just adding fuel to the fire. I can see this rotation will be quite a learning experience for you.” Then turning to Frank, Kathryn smiled and said, “Thank you so much, Mr. Scumby, for that delightful dialogue. It’s truly been a pleasure, and we hope to be seeing you again very soon. I’ll be taking my little chicks back to the henhouse now, so goodbye sir.”

Before Frank could respond, Kathryn had herded her students away and toward the doors with not so much as a glance back in his direction. Not to be outdone, however, Frank yelled after them, “Better watch out girls…the fox is in the henhouse! And Red…the tough ones are always the most fun to fuck. Cute ass, too, by the way!”

Gin tensed, and probably would have returned and knocked Frank’s scrawny body right out of the chair had Kathryn’s hand not remained firmly around her arm. “Don’t even think about it,” she cautioned intuitively. “Remember, class, your first psych lecture is at three this afternoon in the small conference room, number 102, I believe. Your clinical starts here in the morning from nine till noon. Wait for me outside the doors at 8:50. Arthur, would you buzz us out, please?” Releasing Gin’s arm, she added, almost inaudibly, “Sugah, we’re not in the ring here. Before we’re through, I WILL teach you to keep your cool!”

Gin nodded and secretly hoped she was right.

Three Weeks Later

Ryan had been looking forward to today since his first lecture in comparative anatomy class. This morning in the CA lab, they would actually begin dissection of a fetal pig! Not that he fancied himself as a surgeon or anything like that, but Ryan did love exploring, and today he would actually be able to see what interesting world lay just behind the taut, shiny skin of that little pig. Most of his classmates had been dreading the experience for weeks, with thoughts of cutting up poor Porky Pig tantamount to dissecting Donald Duck, or, worse yet, even Mickey Mouse himself. Such revolting thoughts were clearly evident in the behavior of Sarah, the girl next to Ryan, who burst into tears as the little pig was placed in front of her, and shortly thereafter, deposited the remains of her breakfast all over his shiny little body. Staring in total disbelief at the unfolding event to his right, Ryan quickly wiped away the errant remains of what appeared to be an Egg McMuffin from his side of the lab table and promptly alerted Ben, the senior lab assistant, of Sarah’s unexpected delivery.

“Hey Ben, Sarah just puked on her pig,” Ryan announced amid the muffled guffaws of several fellow dissectors.

“Jesus, Sarah,” Ben muttered, quickly striding over to her now somewhat egg-encrusted pig, “it’s only a baby pig!”

With the words scarcely out of his mouth, Ben realized he had made a fatal mistake in his choice of adjectives, as Sarah burst into tears once again, screaming, “A BABY! How can you expect me to cut up a pig’s cute little baby?”

Ryan now knew that he had to act quickly in order to preserve even some semblance of the porcine fantasy that he had been nurturing for weeks. “Sarah, Sarah,” he exhorted, “you want to be a doctor, remember? You can get through this. It’s just a lab experiment, and don’t worry—Ben, here, will be right at your side…absolutely nothing to fret about.” Reaching to wipe the remaining egg from Sarah’s chin, Ryan whispered to Ben that maybe he should remove the pig for now and at least clean it up a bit. “Ben’s going to take your pig for now, Sarah, and you can just watch me for a while. Is that better?”

The sobs had subsided a bit now, and Sarah seemed to be wavering somewhere between complete humiliation and overwhelming relief that the pig was gone. “Ok, Ryan, I think I can handle that. Thank you.”

As Ryan made his way up to the front of the class to speak with Ben regarding his friend’s plight, he turned his head back in Sarah’s direction and gave her a reassuring wink, just to let her know that he had the situation well under control and not to worry. Approaching Ben, he motioned him over to the corner, where they could discuss the situation privately.

“Ben,” Ryan whispered, “Sarah’s really freakin’ out over this ‘baby pig’ thing. How about if the two of us just work together on this one? She’s obviously never going to be a surgeon, and as long as she can identify all the internal parts for the lab exam, don’t you think that would be enough?”

“Hmmm,” Ben murmured as he pondered Ryan’s request. “Well, the lab objective here is to be able to identify all key organs, nerves, bones, and the like. Most students enjoy the dissection part, but clearly that’s not the case with Sarah. I guess it would be ok if you do the cutting for her, as long as she can identify all the internal structures. Why don’t you give it a go and see what happens?”

“Well, I have to admit that I’ve really been looking forward to cutting up that little guy, and wasn’t planning on a partner, but it’s probably better than her continuing the old ‘puke-and-sob’ routine! I’m ok with helping her out—if I can, that is. Just give her Egg McPig to someone else, and I’ll try sharing mine with her.” With that, Ryan turned and started to return to his table, but Ben grabbed his arm, as if he weren’t quite finished with the conversation.

“Hey, Ryan, you in a band or something?” he queried, wondering about the significance of Ryan’s shaggy orange tie-dyed hair, large looped earring, and skintight leather pants. “Or do you always dress like you just disembarked from the ‘Black Pearl’?” Ben winked, referencing the current filming of the movie ‘Pirates of the Caribbean.’ He had to admit that he was somewhat curious about Ryan’s outlandish (even for Portland) attire.

“Well, I used to be back in SC. At the moment, I’m just kind of biding my time, and making sure I do well in school. That’s definitely a priority. Why, you play music too?”

“Not in a group or anything like that,” Ben replied rather wistfully. “Used to, though, a couple of years ago. I’m pretty good on keyboards and bass, if you ever get another group together. I don’t have much stuff now, just a keyboard that I practice on at home.”

Ryan’s green eyes twinkled a bit. “Well, I’m not surprised that you play. You look like a remake of Yanni about twenty years ago!” He was referring to Ben’s tall lanky frame and definitely Greek appearance. His Mediterranean complexion, shoulder-length black hair, and enchanting dark eyes were indeed a dead ringer for a young Yanni. “I’ll bet you don’t play as well as he does, though!” Ryan taunted a bit.

“You’ll just have to make that decision yourself,” Ben smiled back. “Seriously, though, let’s get together sometime and just have a little fun. If your playing is as outlandish as your attire, I’ll be in for a treat!”

“Ok, you’re on, buddy,” Ryan added. “Gives me something to look forward to, besides this lab stuff! Speaking of which, I’d better get back to Madam Queasy over there and start cutting on our pig. With all her breakfast gone, it’ll probably be a faint next,” Ryan winked at Ben as he headed back to Sarah and their now jointly owned piglet.

“Sarah, Ben says it’s ok if we work together on the pig if you’d like, just as long as you’re able to identify all the internal parts on the lab exam. So…would you like for me to do the cutting, and you help locate the target organs?”

Sarah looked up at Ryan with the biggest look of pure gratitude that he could ever remember seeing. “Oh, thank you, Ryan! I just don’t think I have it in me to cut open that poor little baby pig. I’ll try my best to help out when you need me too, though, ok?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Ryan replied reassuringly, finally getting to the moment he had been waiting for. “I’ll just get my scalpel here, and we’ll see what makes that little pig tick!” Grinning and turning the pig on its back, Ryan swiftly made an incision from the neck to the lower abdomen, then pulled the skin back with his forceps. “The arteries and veins are filled with red and blue latex,” he added, “so we will be able to identify them more easily.” With that, Ryan heard a muffled shriek to his right, and looking over at Sarah, saw her knees buckle and her body crumple. Jumping up from his stool, he caught her left arm with one hand and her right shoulder with the other, interrupting the trajectory of her head toward the oak floor. Gently easing his now completely unconscious surgical assistant down, Ryan called out, “Yo, Ben, got a faint here at table 4. Sarah’s out for the count!”

Ben looked up and walked over to Ryan, rolling his eyes and wondering just how some things in life were so utterly predictable. “There’s a first aid kit in the closet up front. Would you grab it, please? I’ll take it from here.” At that moment, as Ryan looked down at Ben, whose arm was now under Sarah, raising her head and shoulders up a bit, his intuition seemed to predict that Ben was going to make a great doctor, and that their paths would continue to cross for years to come.

“On my way, bro,” he grinned, feeling strangely as if he were somehow walking into a future whose door was just now cracking open ever so slightly. “We’ll have her up and runnin’ in no time!”

Ben couldn’t help smiling as he watched Ryan dash off for the first aid kit. The guy’s a little weird, but definitely one of a kind, he mused. I like that about him—decisive, fearless, friendly, and certainly not shy. I wonder if he’s any good as a guitarist? Oh well, guess I’ll find out soon enough, he mused as Ryan rushed back. “Ok, Ryan, grab the ammonium carbonate…smelling salts,” he added with a smile, noting the perplexed look on his face. “This should bring her around,” he laughed as he unscrewed the small bottle and held it under Sarah’s nose.

Almost immediately her nose wrinkled, her brow furrowed, and her eyes popped open. “Ugh!” Sarah moaned. “What is that awful smell?”

“Just a little reminder to wake up!” Ben grinned. “Your partner here was beginning to think you didn’t like him!”

“Oh, I’m so embarrassed!” Sarah replied, just now realizing that she was on the floor and Ben was holding her in his arms. “Guess I really made a scene, didn’t I?”

“Pretty much,” Ryan smiled, extending a hand to help her up. “Didn’t you tell me you wanted to be a brain surgeon?” he winked.

“Ha, ha!” Sarah answered, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Maybe a dermatologist!” she grinned. “Skin-deep is quite far enough for me.”

“Sounds like an ‘aha’ moment,” Ben teased, hopping up from his support position on the floor. “Ok, everybody, show’s over, back to work now. Everybody make a nice, clean ventral incision and let’s see what made this little piggy tick!”

“Oh god,” moaned Sarah as she tried to steady herself by leaning against the lab table.

Ryan quickly reached over and grabbed her around the waist, easing her back onto her stool. “Sarah, we’ve gotta move on here. You just sit down, take a few deep breaths, and let me do the cutting. Try to think of it as your purse, and we’re just opening it up to see what all’s inside. It’s no big deal, really. You’ll get used to it, I promise!”

“If you say so,” Sarah replied, feeling anything but reassured by Ryan’s analogy. “Purse, huh?” she repeated, still looking a bit pale and wobbly.

“Well, it was the best I could come up with under the circumstances,” Ryan shrugged, secretly hoping to at least avoid further stomach contents heading his way anytime soon.

“I’ll try to remember that next time you’re cutting away at the little piglet—we’re just going through the purse, looking for our stuff, right?” She smiled weakly.

“You got it, girl!” Ryan winked. “Now let’s get back to work. Believe it or not, I really have been looking forward to this for several weeks, so let’s see what’s in our purse, darlin’, shall we?”

“Ok, I feel a little better now, anyway. Let’s give it a go!”

“Now you’re talkin’! Just take some deep breaths and try to relax. I’ll do the cutting and you just sit there and hold the stool down, ok?”

“Smart-ass!”

“Totally true, but you owe me now. Don’t forget, ’cause I certainly won’t!” Ryan grinned.

“I’m sure that’s true,” Sarah conceded, secretly wondering what cosmic karma might be headed her way. “Just give me fair warning, ok?”

“Sure, just like you did me, right?”

“Colossal smart-ass!”

“Scalpel, please!” Ryan quipped with a mischievous grin, which he felt certain would cement today’s little porcine adventure indelibly in Sarah’s memory.