Page 28

JEN

AS SOON ASI checked into work, Carla, my manager, reminded me that it was my week to float.

Please don’t send me to the first floor!

I didn’t know his work schedule, but it occurred to me Tyler might be on duty. I hadn’t heard a word from him, not that I expected to. I’d seen the look of astonishment in his eyes when I pulled away from him. I hadn’t meant to hurt him. Reality had taught me that the stars are only aligned for certain people, and I wasn’t among the lucky ones. Watching Kayla find Alex made me realize that I still wanted the dream. I was happy for them, but by the time I’d left their wedding reception, I felt so alone. And Tyler had felt so warm and safe; familiar. Maybe because I thought I had already figured him out as a player and wouldn’t have to learn the hard way. But I was wrong; he’d been so perfect.

Carla’s voice brought me back to the present. “They need help in the ER, so I’m sending you down there this morning. At least you won’t be bored. It will be busy seeing as it’s a weekend.”

The stars were officially aligned against me. “Can’t Debbie go?” I pleaded.

Carla laughed. “Girl, you know as well as I do that she gets too nervous when those doctors start yelling orders or if there’s too much blood. She’s a disaster down there. Doc Stevens said he’d have me fired if I ever sent her there again.”

I couldn’t help but smile. It was true. Debbie was a sweet girl with a soothing voice that had a way of making patients comfortable around her. That is if the treatment was routine. When she’d been to the ER once before, it wasn’t long before word spread about how she got so nervous that she’d knocked over a tray of sterile instruments and jumped anytime a doctor barked orders at her. She’d returned to the pediatric floor where we usually worked in tears. She was overly sensitive and took the stress of the ER teams personally.

With no choice, I checked in at the ER desk and was put right to work helping to treat patients with asthma, COPD, and a car accident involving a collapsed lung. At least the busy morning kept me from dwelling on my problems, and I hadn’t seen any signs of Tyler. I finally had a few minutes to log some information onto the computer at the nurse’s station. I was almost done when I heard a frantic voice approach the desk. “Someone, please help my baby! Please help us!”

I looked up to see a young woman, disheveled in sweatpants, a t-shirt, and slippers cradling a very young infant dressed in a pink onesie. Tears poured down her face. Several nurses rushed to help her, but not before I saw that the infant was lethargic and had a tinge of blue around her lips.

“Bring them to room two,” a deep voice sounded. I looked up to see Tyler already pulling his stethoscope from his neck. He pointed at me. “I need you, too.”

Trained to respond, I immediately followed, already reviewing in my head what might be required of me so I could respond quickly.

The mother didn’t want to let go of her baby, but I calmly reminded her we could work much faster to help her daughter if she laid her on the bed.

I moved to the top of the bed near the baby’s head. She was breathing, but she was so still. “What’s her name?” I asked the young mother.

“Em . . . Emma,” she choked.

I cooed the baby’s name and stroked her fine hair, willing a response from her as a nurse took over asking questions about Emma’s birth, eating habits, and other symptoms. I could tell Tyler was taking in all the answers even as he examined little Emma with gentle hands. His eyebrows were drawn together, so I knew he was worried about the three day old baby in his care.

“What’s wrong with her?” her mother cried. “She was fine the first few days. Please tell me you can fix her!” She began to collapse, but Maggie caught her and moved her to a chair in the corner of the room, soothing her with small hugs and whispered words.

I continued to note Emma’s color and pressed a finger on her tiny, small arm. My white fingerprint stayed behind as I lifted my finger, and I counted how many seconds it took to fill in. Too long. I glanced at Tyler and saw that he’d noticed my capillary refill test. Tyler pulled an ultrasound machine over. He passed the wand over Emma’s heart and flipped dials and knobs while I continued to monitor her airflow. He glanced up at me. “Atrial septal defect,” he commented simply. I nodded my understanding.

“Go ahead and intubate her,” he commanded quietly. “Let’s see if we can get some more oxygen to her while we wait to meet with a surgeon.” He began to carefully swaddle her up in a warm blanket a nurse had brought him.

I reached on the shelf and pulled off a box that was color coded so I knew it would be the right size for my small patient. I worked quietly but efficiently and soon had the tube in the baby’s airway passage. He watched me as I worked and nodded in approval. I continued to croon softly to the baby hoping to elicit a bigger response from her.

“Start an i.v. with PGE,” he told the nurse. He picked up the phone and punched a few numbers and spoke quietly to whoever answered. He apparently didn’t like their answer. “I know you’re busy. You’re always busy. Find a way and work it in. This won’t wait,” he growled.

He hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Calmer, he walked over to the mother who was watching with wide open scared eyes. He knelt in front of her. “We’re making Emma comfortable, and we’re going to help her,” he started. He went on to explain in simple terms that the blood wasn’t flowing through the heart and lungs in the proper order due to a hole in the heart’s septum. In fact, it was mostly skipping the lungs altogether, hence the reason for her blue coloring. He assured the young mother it was nothing she had done wrong, and how everything usually seems normal for the first few days, so she hadn’t missed previous signs. “She really will be okay. We’re giving her a hormone called Prostaglandin E to open up the hole so the blood flows until we can fix it correctly with surgery.”

A nurse came rushing in. “Dr. Cranston, you’re needed in room three.” He acknowledged her with a nod and excused himself from the mother. He stole a glance at me as he walked through the door.

I called to the mother. “Mrs. Hughes, would you like to sit with your daughter now? I know it looks scary to see that tube in her mouth and hear the machine, but it’s just helping to make sure she’s getting the proper oxygen. You can touch her and talk to her. And you can see for yourself how her color is already looking better.” She nodded, and I guided her over to her daughter, who was looking a little pinker and was starting to flutter her eyes.

My job was done, so I left mother and daughter in the capable hands of Maggie and returned to the main area of the ER so I could make notes on a chart. I heard a loud commotion coming from the lobby. I peeked out the window of the swinging doors to see police officers escorting a man out of the waiting room in handcuffs.

“What’s going on,” I asked a passing technician.

“Oh, he brought his wife into the ER claiming she’d been in some kind of accident. She looked badly banged up. Of course, Dr. Cranston went through the standard protocol for domestic abuse and called for the social worker. I guess her husband started complaining the treatment was taking too long. The husband started getting physical with Dr. Cranston when he stepped out here to ask a few questions, so security was called.” She must have noticed the blood drain from my face. “Aw, don’t worry about Dr. Cranston. I’ll tell you what, the doc had him immobilized by the time security got there. What I wouldn’t give to have a strong man like that in my corner!” She hustled on to her next duty.

I felt a bit shaky as I moved to where I could observe Tyler through a window in the door. He was sitting on a rolling stool next to the bed near her head, cleaning cuts on her arms and face while a nurse prepped a tray that I recognized as one needed for sutures. The door was partially open, and I could hear him steadily reassuring her. He never stopped working while he spoke. “I understand, Mrs. Albers. I believe you.”

A quiet voice said something I couldn’t understand. He paused in his work and put down the gauze in his hand on a tray behind him. He leaned forward so that his arms were resting on his legs. He clasped his hands and shook his head at her. “Shh, now. No one here thinks you’re foolish. You were very brave to tell us what happened. And I assure you, as both a man and a doctor, you did nothing to deserve this. Before you leave this room, we’re going to put you in contact with someone who will help you know what resources are available and help make sure you’re in a safe place.” He reached back to get what he needed to do the sutures. He gave a little start when he caught me staring watching them. He hesitated just a moment, then staring right at me he reaffirmed, “It wasn’t your fault.” He nodded ever so slightly.

Embarrassed at being caught spying, I quickly turned and leaned my back against the wall next to the door.He knows.My stomach muscles clenched at the same time my leg muscles weakened. My head rolled against the wall as I struggled to maintain my composure. What must he think of me? After watching him with the woman in the exam room, I was sure it was better than what I thought of myself. I knew the woman in there wasn’t to blame for her circumstances; her husband was. She’d had the courage to tell someone.