I Owe the System

From the Soul on Call series
Note: These reflections are fictional and intended for educational and reflective purposes only. They are not medical advice, and do not represent the views of any employer or institution.

His neck had been stiff since morning rounds. Now the ache sat lower, tugging between his shoulders. He told himself it was the weather.

Then the text came.

Tuesday overnight. No coverage. Would Buzz mind?

Dr. Buzz T. Grind read the message twice. It was from Dr. Younes—senior ortho, same call group. No pressure, just a favor.

Buzz typed Sure and hovered over Send.
Then stopped.

He was off-service next week. The shift wasn’t his. But he could do it. He’d done worse with less notice. It was just one night.

He slipped the phone into his pocket, flexed his sore fingers, and kept walking.

Near the OR board, the schedule was scrawled in erasable ink. His name wasn’t there yet. But he could already see it.

Behind him came a voice:

Solan: You just agreed to something, didn’t you.

Buzz turned. Solan Call stood with coffee so pale it looked like it had given up halfway.

Buzz: Nothing big.

Solan: Your face says otherwise.

Buzz: It’s just a switch. Younes needed coverage. I said maybe.

Solan: Did you want to?

Buzz adjusted his stance, left foot to right, like settling in for a long case.

Buzz: Wasn’t about that.

Solan: That’s not an answer.

Buzz exhaled.

Buzz: It’s not like I had plans. I can handle it. It’s one shift.

Solan: Three reasons in thirty seconds. None of them sound like yours.

Buzz rubbed his jaw, as if pressure could keep the words inside. He looked back at the board. Still blank. Still waiting.

His dad came to mind—retired military surgeon. The kind of man who didn’t believe in sick days or excuses. Buzz had learned early that fatigue was weakness, pain was tolerable, quitting was a diagnosis you gave other people.

It had made him efficient. It had also made him numb.

Buzz: You know what we used to say in ortho? You don’t leave the room until the bone is fixed.

Solan: And if the bone doesn’t want to fix?

Buzz: Then you hold it in place until it does.

He tried to make it a joke. It came out like doctrine.

Solan didn’t push. Just stepped beside him, coffee in hand.

Buzz: I’ve picked up shifts the night after spine injections.

Solan nodded once.

Buzz: Didn’t want to let the team down.

His voice dropped.

Buzz: Didn’t want to be… replaceable.

Solan: You’re not replaceable. You’re just bleeding slowly in a system that doesn’t notice.

Something in Buzz’s jaw loosened.

Solan: You don’t owe it your body.

Buzz: Feels like I do.

Solan: Where’s the receipt?

That stopped him.

Buzz stared at the board again. No name yet. Just space.

He pulled out his phone. Opened the thread. Re-read the ask.
Then typed:

Can’t swing it this time. Sorry.

Sent.

He pocketed the phone, feeling the phantom weight of the unsent Sure.

Buzz: Never said no before.

Solan: Then this is the first rep.

Buzz smirked. A dry sound.

He walked away before he could take it back.

🌱 Still saying yes before you check your pulse?
This week’s Soul Kit might help:

“What Do I Owe… and to Whom?”
A grounded space to untangle duty from depletion.

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