“Crash was between here and Denver. The other kids weren’t badly hurt so the Denver paramedics got them out first and took them back with them. But she was trapped in the wreckage, it took an hour to get her out.”
“And you brought her here?” I snapped, exasperated. The fact she looked like Rachel was getting to me. “She’s here by herself?” No one to ask about her medical history, no one to get consent from.
“Her pressure was dropping,” the paramedic said defensively. “Mount Mercy was closer!”
I fumed and brooded on it for a few seconds, but he was right. “Yeah,” I muttered. “Yeah, okay. You probably saved her life.” I just wished there was someone else we could ask about what happened. “Rebecca?” Fuck. Her eyes were going glassy. “Rebecca? Honey?”
“I feel funny,” she said groggily.
“I know, honey.” I was fighting to stay calm, now. I could feel the sweat breaking out on my forehead despite the cold of the room and there was a sick churning in my stomach. The nurses around the table were glancing at each other, the fear spreading between them. We’re going to lose this one. I caught Beckett’s eye again across the room. She had a hand over her mouth, her eyes huge. “Can you tell me how you were hurt, when the truck hit?” I asked Rebecca. “Was something pressing on you?”
She nodded. “The bus all folded up. My leg got trapped.. And my tummy got squashed.” She pointed weakly from chest to groin.
“Something must be damaged inside.” I said. “Ultrasound, now!”
“80 over 30,” said the nurse, her voice quavering. She put a hand on the kid’s shoulder, willing her to hold on. Everyone around the table knew how she felt.
A nurse ran over with the ultrasound trolley and I held my hand out for the probe, my other hand crushing the gurney’s rail, knuckles white. Five seconds went by. Ten, but the nurse was still flipping switches. “What’s the problem?” I snapped. I knew I was losing my cool, but I couldn’t help it, not with a kid on the table.
“I don’t know! It won’t switch on!” She kept working at it. “It was fine this morning!”
Rebecca tensed in pain and then her eyes closed. Her vitals suddenly fell off a cliff. “No palpable pulse.” called a nurse. Then, in a quieter voice, “We’re losing her.”
“No we’re not,” I spat, pointing an accusing finger at her. “No, we’re fucking not! Get me the spare ultrasound!”
Everyone looked blank.
I lost it. “Get me the spare!” I roared. “The spare fucking ultrasound! Get me the spare!”
Three different nurses ran in three different directions, clucking about whether it would be in Pediatrics or OB/GYN. The kid’s pulse missed a beat. Slowed. Missed another one. I felt my chest close up.
She was going to die because we couldn’t find out what was wrong with her.
6
Amy
I WASN’T CONSCIOUS of moving. One moment, I was pressed up against the wall, watching and cursing and praying.
The next, I was sliding under Corrigan’s arm and stepping in front of him, right next to the little girl. Oh Jesus, she looked so small.
“What—” started Corrigan but I ignored him. I ignored the voice in my head that asked what the hell I was doing, that told me I couldn’t do this. I shut out the noise and the people jostling me and I pretended I was upstairs, where it’s calm.
I put my hands on Rebecca’s chest and started gently pressing. My eyes defocused.
The skin was just a distraction. After years of surgery, I know internal anatomy like you know the layout of your house. I could see it in my head, a multi-colored textbook diagram overlaid on her body, how she should be. And I could feel where it was different, where her ribs had cracked and bent, where organs had been squeezed and damaged.
“Something’s ruptured.” The poor kid was a wreck. All I wanted to do was to rush her upstairs to surgery so I could start fixing her. But I couldn’t do that until we’d stabilized her. I closed my eyes completely and used just the very tips of my fingers, where they’re most sensitive. “Feels like the blood’s concentrated... here.” I pressed on her left abdomen. “I can feel a broken rib. It must have sliced into her spleen.”
For the first time, I turned around... and looked straight into Corrigan’s eyes. There was none of that cocky hardness, now. He was desperate. In pain. “We can’t get to it,” he said. “If we open her here, with all that damage, she’ll bleed out in a couple of seconds.”
He was right. I thought fast. “Maybe we can stop it somewhere else. Have you ever done a Reboa?”
“I’ve seen one, I’ve never done one. You?”
“Only once.” My chest contracted. But if I let the panic win, this kid was going to die.