Sanctuary for a Surgeon, page 1
Table of Contents
Books by Jason Wrench
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Trademark Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
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Pride Publishing books by Jason Wrench
Single Books
Twelve Days of Murder
Till Death Do Us Wed
Up on the Farm
Finding a Farmer
Bewitched by the Barista
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A Wolf in Billionaire’s Clothing: Wolf Island
Up on the Farm
SANCTUARY FOR THE SURGEON
JASON WRENCH
Sanctuary for the Surgeon
ISBN # 978-1-83943-245-3
©Copyright Jason Wrench 2023
Cover Art by Kelly Martin ©Copyright January 2023
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Pride Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2023 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
Book three in the
Up on the Farm series
Finding love in the sanctuary of nature and another man’s arms.
Darrin Betancourt is a trauma surgeon in his early thirties living in New York City. His world gets thrown upside down after his husband dies in a car accident. Can Darrin get his act together and learn to love again before his life spirals out of control? His friends convince him to attend an all-gay retreat outside Woodstock. Begrudgingly, Darrin agrees to spend a weekend in nature, out of the city.
Jordan Floyd is a twenty-four-year-old farmhand who works for Devereux Farms Upstate just outside Woodstock. Jordan gets permission from his bosses to attend Camp Namast-Gay at the Woodstock Esoteric Sanctuary.
Darrin and Jordan end up in adjacent cabins. Can the two men take their friendship to a whole new level before the weekend is over? Or will disaster strike, derailing both of their lives and their burgeoning love?
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my mentors in school and life, Dr. James C. McCroskey and Dr. Virginia Peck Richmond. Their encouragement has given me the tools to professionally spread my wings and fly in so many directions.
Acknowledgements
First, I again thank all the amazing people at my Pride Publishing family for everything they do: Claire Siemaszkiewicz, Rebecca Scott and Jamie Rose. As the saying goes, “It takes a village.” I’m glad to be part of the Pride Publishing village. Second, I also want to thank my fellow Ninja Writers for keeping me motivated and writing. Last, I want to thank all my colleagues, family and friends who inspire me every day.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Priscilla, Queen of the Desert: Roadshow Entertainment
Wookie: George Lucas, Disney Enterprises Inc.
Being Alive: George Furth, Stephen Sondheim
Company: George Furth, Stephen Sondheim
RuPaul’s Drag Race: Passion Distribution
UPS: United Parcel Service
Voldemort: J.K. Rowling
Metro: City of New York
Texas Tech: Texas Tech University System
TikTok: ByteDance
Grindr: Grindr LLC
Polo: PRL USA Holdings Inc.
GQ: Conde Nast
YMCA: World YMCA
iPad: AVC Group
Ziploc: S.C. Johnson & Son
Boy Scouts: Boy Scouts of America Corporation
YouTube: Google Inc.
James Bond: Ian Fleming
Peter Pan: Disney Enterprises Inc.
Oakley’s: EssilorLuxottica
LinkedIn: LinkedIn Corporation
Speedo: Speedo International Limited
Google: Google Inc.
Bluetooth: Bluetooth SIG Inc.
NFL: National Football League Association
New England Patriots: New England Patriots LLC
Super Bowl: National Football League
Outsports: Vox Media LLC
Out: Pride Media
Viagra: Pfizer Inc.
Contagion: Warner Bros. Pictures
Under Armour: Under Armour Inc.
Friday Night Lights: H.G. Bissinger, Universal Pictures
GoPro: GoPro Inc.
Superman: DC Comics General Partnership
Speed Racer: Tatsunoko Productions
Nissan: Nissan Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha Corporation
iPhone: Cisco Technology Inc.
At Last: Mack Gordon, Harry Warren
Bad Romance: Lady Gaga
Bridgerton: Netflix
Prologue
I’ve seen a lot of things in my Emergency Department before, but staring down at my latest patient had me stumped. I was waiting for the computerized tomography or CT scan to sent to my laptop before transferring my patient to the plastic surgeon on call. I hadn’t told my patient yet, but the surgical team was already prepping the operating room. She was still in good humor, so I opted not to stress her out. Some people hear the word ‘surgery’ and immediately freak.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Betancourt,” my boss and best friend Dr. Bryce Camden-Thompson said, coming into the patient bay. “For those of you who are new to this rotation, Dr. Betancourt is one of our trauma surgeons on staff.” He then turned to me and asked, “Doctor, what do we have this afternoon?”
I looked up to see why he was being so formal and noticed the string of medical students he had in tow. “Well, Dr. Camden-Thompson, there’s a metal rod through the patient’s left orbit media inferior quadrant.”
“Dr. Chauncy,” Bryce said, turning to one of his residents, “do you agree with Dr. Betancourt’s diagnosis?”
The resident’s eyes grew as he tried to refocus on his attending physician. I stifled a snicker. I could tell the resident had been staring at the patient and not listening to what I was saying. Let’s face it… It’s not every day you see a stiletto heel sticking out of someone’s eye socket.
“Yes, uh, of course, Dr. Camden-Thompson. Dr. Betancourt’s diagnosis is accurate.”
I tuned them out as I looked down at my patient. “How are you holding up, Ms. Albariño?”
“I just want this thing out of my eye,” the six-foot-three-inch individual said.
“You okay with the medical students and residents being here?”
“I already told you, Doctor. Let the children see me in all my glory and idiocy.”
The Lady Albariño was a bit of a frequent flyer in the emergency room. The legendary queen had been around the West Village for decades, performing and hosting. Her current attire was a sparkly dress that looked inspired by Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.
“Ms.…?” Bryce asked the patient.
“I’m The Lady Albariño,” she replied. “I would shake your hand, but I’m just as likely to shake your”—glancing down at Bryce’s crotch—“since my vision isn’t great…for some reason.”
There were a few nervous chuckles from the medical students. Still, the residents were doing their best to appear completely affectless. One thing we explain to new students, interns and residents is that you can never look shocked when dealing with a patient. No matter how mangled or gory a patient looks, they’re looking to you to be competent an
“Yes, Ms. Albariño,” Bryce continued. “Will you please explain how you ended up with the object in your eye?”
I patted Albariño’s shoulder as she began her story for probably the thousandth time since entering the ED. “I was at a gig getting ready when another queen accused me of having an affair with her man—which I most assuredly would not be having sex with that beast. That hairy monstrosity would give a Wookie a run for their money. Well, there was a little altercation, and I ended up with Bellatrix Bordello’s heel sticking out of my eye.”
“Thankfully,” I interjected, “the patient can still see out of her left eye, and it responds to light.”
Bryce conferred with his group. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket as the ping of an email wanted my attention. I pulled out my phone, looked down and saw it was from radiology. The radiologist summarized, “We have a left infraorbital canal-orbital floor and posterior wall of the left maxillary sinus fracture with a left maxillary hemosinus. CT scan showed no injury to the optic nerve, superior or medial rectus.”
“Well, Ms. Albariño,” I interrupted Bryce’s mini-lecture, “I got the CT scan back, and we will get you up to surgery now. The good news is that your eye is in good condition, so you shouldn’t lose any visual function. There is a fracture in your eye socket that will need to be repaired surgically.”
“Is that your way of saying you’ll have to drug me, Doctor?” The Lady Albariño said seductively. “You could have simply invited me over to your place for cocktails.”
“As much fun as I’m sure that would be, I’m afraid my husband would have a problem with it.”
The Lady Albariño sighed and threw her hand over her heart like a leading lady from the old silent films. “All the good men are either married or straight.”
I smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Before you go on any dates, we need to have a plastic surgeon get that blasted heel out of your eye. It’s not your best accessory.”
I left the patient bay and watched as Bryce took the students over to a computer terminal where he could go over The Lady Albariño’s CT scan with them in more detail. I got surgery on the line and let them know that The Lady Albariño was being transferred into their capable hands. A minute later, she was wheeled out of the ED.
I went back to the physician’s desk area and started my dictation of the case for the hospital chart. I was so lost in my work that I didn’t even see Bryce sit down as he slid a cup of fresh coffee over for me.
“Well, that was a first,” Bryce said. “I mean…I’ve read about a heel in an eye socket before in medical journals but never expected to see a drag queen with a scarlet stiletto embedded in her.”
“Do you know The Lady Albariño?” I asked.
“Not personally. Richard and I have seen her show a few times over the years.”
Richard was Bryce’s husband and the other half of Camden-Thompson. I’ve always known them as the Camden-Thompsons, so I don’t really know who was Camden and who was Thompson before they were married.
My husband, Chance Mercer, is an infectious disease physician at New York University. Even though we both worked for NYU, it had taken a disaster in Mexico City to bring us together. I had been finishing my Surgical Critical Care Fellowship when there had been a giant earthquake right outside Mexico City. I agreed to fly down with a team from NYU to help Doctors Without Borders in the aftermath. Even though Chance was almost thirty years my senior, we had fallen in love. One and a half years later, we were married, when I had been in my early thirties.
“What’s Chance up to today?” Bryce asked. “Attending the vigil this evening?” What Bryce had asked about was the annual NYC AIDS vigil that took place every September twenty-seventh for National Gay Men’s HIV/AIDS Awareness Day.
“He’s attending but not presenting this year. I may walk over to the NYC AIDS Memorial Park at St. Vincent’s Triangle on break if things are quiet around here.”
The Greenwich Village Emergency Department entrance was less than a block from the park, so this was entirely doable. In fact, I could worm my way through the bowels of the facility and take a side exit that opened right across the street from the park.
“Doctors!” a voice cut through the ED. I looked up to see one of the ED nurses taking a call. “A car drove into a crowd of pedestrians at St. Vincent’s Triangle. There was a gathering. Multiple injuries are heading our way. We’re the closest ED, so this is an all-hands-on-deck emergency.”
Without thinking, I stopped my dictation, downed the cup of coffee and went to the supply closet to put on emergency personal protective equipment. I took a deep, centering breath as I prepared myself for what was about to enter the ED. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bryce organizing his medical students, interns and residents into triage teams. The ED was a flurry of activity around me. When the sliding doors opened and the first victim was rolled in, I approached.
“We have a twelve-year-old male who was hit by a motor vehicle. The victim is unconscious…” The EMT read off the vital statistics of the patient.
Without waiting for more information, I said to the closest nurse, “I want a full work-up, including a whole-body CT.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the nurse said and took over.
The next patient had a bone sticking out of her leg. I told the next nurse to get orthopedics on the phone because we had an emergency surgery. That was what my life was like for the next hour. I quickly evaluated patients, then turfed them to their next destination. Because of our proximity to the accident, we had around twenty victims come through our ED.
After helping Bryce organize surgical teams, I scrubbed in for a two-and-a-half-hour surgery. My patient had internal bleeding from blunt force trauma. Thankfully, I was able to open him up and get the bleeding stopped. The patient would have to undergo a couple of more surgeries before he was on the road to recovery, but we had him stable, and that was all that mattered.
By the time I pulled off my last set of bloodied PPE, I was exhausted. As a trauma surgeon, you learn to turn off your emotions during a crisis. If I let all the carnage get to me, I would be paralyzed in a situation like this. Instead, I took each case as it came. I had to always think three or four steps ahead in my treatment plan to keep on top of my patients. I headed back down to the ED to see if there was anything else I could do to help. I should have been tired, but I always had this buzz of energy after I finished surgery. Probably adrenaline.
I looked across the ED and everyone looked haggard. Thankfully, emergency medical services had diverted any noncritical cases away from our facility.
“How are you holding up?” Bryce asked as he came to stand next to me.
“I’m good. You?”
“Same.”
“What about your posse?” I joked.
“They performed well. The students and interns did as they were told, and the residents stepped up. I had to order one medical student to leave the ED because he froze. I think this may have only been his first or second rotation.”
“Talk about being thrown into the deep end.”
“Have you talked to Chance yet?”
“No,” I said, the sudden realization hitting me. “I haven’t thought about him and not even checked my phone.” I reached into my scrubs and pulled out my cell. I was surprised that I didn’t have any messages, but sometimes, in the basement of the ED and the operating room, cell reception could be spotty. I hit Chance’s number and waited for the call to connect.
He didn’t pick up.
I dialed again.
I heard Raul Esparza’s rendition of Being Alive from the musical Company playing lightly. It took my brain a second to register the song…our song, the one Chance used for my ringtone on his phone. My heart plummeted as I hit redial and searched for the source. I found a colleague in a back patient bay pulling the sheet over the top of one of the victims. Absently, I hit redial again. When Raul’s voice broke through the silence, I took three steps forward and lifted the sheet.
“What are you—?”
I ignored the physician.
Chance’s blank eyes stared up at me. I don’t know what happened next. The guttural sound that escaped my throat was primal.
