The Fellowship

by K. Darblyne

  "That’s great! Thanks, Mom." Danni sighed. It was a term that most of the younger nurses called Karen. She was like their "Mom". She watched out for them and lent an ear when the need arose. She loved them as she would her own and they knew that they could go to her with any problem. She was one of the reasons that Danni felt so at home in this environment. Karen made everyone feel like they were one big E.R. family.

  Danni finished her charting and made a pass through the break room where she grabbed a small piece of the freshly baked nut bread. She popped it into her mouth and closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. What she wouldn’t give for a glass of milk and time to eat some more. Her thoughts were interrupted by the beeper she carried, "Trauma Team Page. Helicopter #4 inbound with one patient, male involved in MVA rollover. This is a Level I Trauma Team Page. ETA 10 minutes."

  She exited the small room and started towards the trauma hall. Rounding the corner into the first trauma room, Danni could see the bustle of activity starting as her back-up nurse Rosie made last minute preparations to the room.

  "What is this the sixth in just as many hours? Well, at least they’re not coming all at the same time tonight," the auburn hair nurse grimaced as she pulled the Velcro closure of the leaded apron to adjust to her tall willowy build.

  Danni thought a moment then agreed, "I believe so, but at least we don’t have a brand new team to break in for several more hours. Don’t you just love the first day of a new teaching year?"

  "Yeah, right!" was Rosie’s reply. She slowly pondered a thought and with a wry smile she stated, "Wonder if there’ll be any available ones this year."

  "Is that the only thing you think about?" The blonde nurse wrinkled her nose at Rosie and proceeded to dress in the fluid proof gown. "I swear you’re just waiting to latch on to one."

  "Hmm, you never know. I do have my standards to meet. I just don’t want any doctor, just one whom will make a name for themselves."

  "Well, your prayers may be answered this year, Rosie," the voice was deep and authoritative as the Chief Surgical Resident enunciated his words to the team members as they assembled outside of the trauma room. "One of the new guys is already making a name for himself before he even starts."

  "Come on, David, don’t stop there." Rosie was determined to find out what he was hinting at.

  "It seems that the surgeon left a promising career to take the year of Fellowship here." David pondered. "I don’t know why anyone would leave a good job to come here and be subjected to this torture. Long hours and every third night on call wouldn’t be bringing me out of private practice."

  "He sounds like a man on a mission." Rosie was making eyes as she spoke.

  Danni smiled at the antics of her friend, "Almost too perfect for you."

  "The name is Garrett Trivoli, one of the Trauma fellows for the next year. Yep, that’ll be my replacement in just about five hours."

  "What else do you know about him? Come on, give it up, David."

  "Rosie you are relentless," the Chief Resident sighed. "All I know is for the last three years Trivoli was in the Navy, commissioned as a Lieutenant, and served as a Flight Surgeon aboard several aircraft carriers."

  "Oh boy, a Prima Dona that we have to salute," Karen rolled her eyes and laughed.

  "I guess we better practice our ‘Yes, Sir’ for tomorrow night," the x-ray tech said as she snapped to attention.

  Everyone broke into a chuckle at the antics of the mock saluting being readily passed around the room, but the giddiness was shattered as the overhead intercom announced, "Trauma in the Department. Trauma in the Department."

  "Alright, People, we’ve got a job to do," David regained his composure and awaited the arrival of the Helicopter Crew with their patient.

  "Too good to be true," Rosie mutter under her breath. "Probably married and with kids."

  "Shhh! Rosie!" Danni scolded her as the stretcher was wheeled into the trauma room. The team immediately began their business a usual with David leading them.

  ************

  The night seemed to fly by as three more trauma patients rolled through the doors, each one allowing a few minutes reprieve upon their dispatch to a floor before the next one came in. Finally with the last one being sent to a floor for a bed assignment, the chaos subsided and things began to come to a slower more relaxed pace.

  Danni was pleased that all of her patients had lived; though it would be touch and go for a few of them. At least she did not have to think of the devastation to the families that a traumatic death brought with it. If only people would let their true feeling be known, especially to those that we love, it would ease the pain when someone is snatched unexpectedly out of our midst. All too often we wait until it is too late to say words of praise or affection to our loved ones. She had read somewhere that the dead can hear the thoughts of the living. For the sake of all those that died before they knew they were loved, she hoped this was true.

  Danni could see the night sky fading into the light of morning as she passed by the large glass doors leading to the ambulance parking area. They had miraculously survived another night of darkness and forlorn to revel in the birth of a new day. Her face had a far off look on it as she turned back into the fluorescent lighting of the E.R., her mind preoccupied with the events of the past night.

  "Earth to Danni, earth to Danni." David had come around the corner and stepped to the side so as not to run into the young woman.

  "Huh, oh, sorry." Danni shook the thoughts from her head causing her short blonde hair to quiver. "I was just…"

  "No need to apologize. I just stopped by to say thanks for all your help tonight. Hey, for the last few years, too. You really know your stuff, Danni. You’re a real asset to this trauma program. In fact all the nurses are." The Chief Resident reached out and hugged the smaller woman, "Thanks for everything."

  She was stunned, and could feel the heat searing through her body as she blushed turning her face bright red in color. Out of the corner of her eye, Danni could see Rosie mouth the words; ‘He’s got a crush on you.’

  David released her and turned to see the rest of the E.R. staff silently looking on. He was busted and he knew it. "Everyone, thanks, you’re the best."

  "Hey, David, where’s my hug?"

  "I should have known you would be the one to ask, Rosie." He walked over to the tall women and gave her shoulders a good squeeze.

  "You are so bad!" Danni could not believe her coworkers antics.

  She grabbed the Chief Residents arm in an attempt to pry him away from Rosie. "You better leave before she has you in her clutches."

  "Hey, I resent that! So doc, what can you tell us about the new fellows?" Rosie had a one-tract mind and right now she wanted to know all she could about any potential available doctors.

  "OK, ok, there are three new fellows starting today. I haven’t met them all but I do know their names." David looked at the crowd and then singled out Rosie. "Two men and a woman; Garrett Trivoli, Nathaniel Hostetler, and Rene Chabot."

  "Two men, huh. I always did like men in uniform," Rosie said with a mischievous grin on her face as her thoughts turned to ships and the sea.

  Karen now stepped in taking David by the arm and pushing him along on his way, "Now off with you and go be an attending or something, will you, Please! You’re disrupting my E.R." She leaned into his ear, whispering, "Keep in touch, David and good luck."

  With that the Chief Resident nodded and waved as he walked down the hall savoring his last few minutes in the program and thinking of all the friends he would leave behind.

  *************

  The daylight shift was slowly gathering at the nurse’s station in an attempt to obtain reports on the few patients that were left in the E.R. treatment rooms. It was time for the night shift to begin to wind their activity down and think about home, sleep, and food. The night had been so busy that thoughts of lunch had been put by the wayside. Perhaps this is why there was always an abundant supply of snacks and "finger food
" brought in by the staff. They were accustomed to sharing what they had with each other and with the Medical Staff that frequented the area in response to the consults the E.R. Physicians requested on their patients.

  Danni could feel her stomach rumbling as she handed the trauma beeper over to her daylight equivalent. John had been a nurse for several years and was capable in his duties. It was his attitude that turned most women against him. His constant discussion of sports or his sexual attributes and exploits made most women feel uncomfortable if around him for any length of time. Danni was no exception. She thanked the gods above that John rarely worked a night shift explaining that this was valuable copulating time for him and she had learned early in her E.R. career to schedule herself for a daylight shift when it was his day off. She secretly thanked "Mom" for teaching her this little trick.

  "Everything is stocked and ready for the next trauma patient to arrive. We were alerted for a gunshot victim about ten minutes ago but have had no further updates." Danni smiled at the prospect of changing out of her sweaty scrubs, her shift was now over and on time for once.

  John took the smile on her face as an invitation to flirt and asked her quite pointedly, "You off tonight? Maybe you want to meet me after work and we could have our own little sweatfest. I could fit you in early."

  "No, thanks, I’ll be here working," was Danni’s reply. The verbal exchange came to an abrupt end when the piercing tones of the trauma beeper went off.

  "Trauma Team Page. Trauma Team Page. Twenty-year-old male with multiple gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen. Patient is intubated. ETA 1 minute by ambulance to your facility. Level I Trauma Page."

  ‘Thank you.‘ Danni thought as she saw John’s facial expression change as he took off running down the hall to the trauma room.

  Rosie came over to were Danni was standing, "Hey, you ready to get out of this zoo?"

  "Yeah," she said turning to go out the E.R. door leading to the Lobby. "It’s been a long night and I sure am starving."

  "Hey, you two, wait up for me," Karen called out to the pair at the door.

  They looked over their shoulder to see "Mom" coming towards them. A split second was all that it took and suddenly they heard a loud bang, as the door in front of them slammed open and a tall athletic body hurtled through pushing between them, eagerly making it’s way down the trauma hallway.

  "Mom, watch out!" They yelled in unison. Each preparing for the impact that they believed could not be averted.

  Karen just closed her eyes in anticipation of the impending collision. "Mom" waited, but it never came. Long dark tresses were flying behind the figure as it moved with catlike grace easily side stepping the older, slow moving, pudgy form of the Charge nurse by millimeters. She opened her eyes and looked around herself with great trepidation. She was still standing and in one piece.

  Danni and Rosie were at her side within seconds, bracing her up. Karen felt like she was going to faint. How could she have not been hit or hurt. Her voice was trembling and soft; "I’m all right, girls. I’m all right."

  "I have a good mind to go after that idiot," Rosie blurted out.

  "Don’t bother, it’s probably the first trauma page in her life." Danni was not one to rush in to confrontations. "She’ll learn. They should tell these medical students that they are not the one’s that save the patients."

  "Do you want to sit down, Mom?"

  "No, just get me out of this zoo before it’s too late. I just want to go home," the older woman pleaded.

  Propped on either side by her co-workers, Karen shakily made her way to the locker room. The night shift was officially over.

  Chapter 3

  The trauma hallway and room were bursting with activity. The critical nature of the incoming patient was evident. Every level of medical professional on the team realized that it would be a race against the clock to save the young man’s life. There would be no time to discuss methods of treatment or to consult with the Attending Physician. It literally was down to do or let the young man die. And by the gods, if Trivoli had anything to say about it, this young man was going to get another chance at life. ‘The ball is in my court now! This is what I have been training for my entire career,’ raced through the surgeon’s mind.

  A feral smile came to the Fellow’s face as the overhead loudspeaker squawked, "Trauma patient is in the department. Trauma patient is in the department."

  Seeing the blood drenched, limp body of the young man on the ambulance stretcher, Garrett began firing off orders letting instinct take control. "I want a quick chest x-ray and abdomen x-ray. Check for pulses. Get me a pressure. Hang all four units of blood and notify the Operating Room that we’re coming up now. Tell them to have Thoracic Surgery meet us up there. Call the Blood Bank and have them send a ten pack of O positive blood to the O.R. to start, and a four pack every fifteen minutes for the next hour."

  Trivoli watched as the team worked to meet all of the demands. The monitor showed tachycardia with multiple PVC’s, the pulse was weak and thready; the blood pressure was 70 over 40.

  ‘Not good, not good at all,’ Trivoli thought. "Time to move, NOW, to the O.R.," the low contralto voice decreed.

  The directive caused the hallway to clear almost immediately creating an unobstructed path to the elevators. Every hand and foot was in motion to expedite the young lad’s way to the operating room, giving him a desperate chance for life. Once inside, the doors closed and the ascent was speedy.

  The elevator came to a stop, the doors opening on the Operating Room level.

  With the look of a well-rehearsed team, the forward momentum towards the area of bright lights and cold steel resumed instantly. The driven group easily negotiated the sixty feet of hallway and the two left-handed turns needed to bring them to the main entrance of the O.R. where they were met by the surgical personnel. The exchange of one team with the other was flawless with not an ounce of momentum lost.

  The E.R. trauma team now watched their patient being maneuvered swiftly down the hall and into the surgical theater. The concern on their faces could have been construed as a silent prayer offered for the safekeeping of their patient’s life, teetering precariously on death’s doorstep.

  A second or two passed before they were able to register what had taken place. They could feel the adrenaline surging through their bodies, their lungs in need of more oxygen. Slowly, each one began to look to the other, searching for reassurance. It felt as though they had been part of some surreal dream sequence of the perfect trauma delivery system. It felt good, damn good! Now, if only the patient would survive.

  "Paper work," the stern looking woman at the desk demanded with an outstretched hand. "Do you have any paper work on the trauma patient?"

  The dream atmosphere was now broken by the harshness of reality. John turned his gaze to her and slowly shook his head; "There was no time, no paper work generated. Hell, we didn’t even give him a name." He looked down at his watch noticing that only twelve minutes had elapsed since the trauma pager warned them of the almost immediate one-minute ETA.

  She looked over the top of her glasses at him and mockingly said, "What am I supposed to call him?"

  The other E.R. nurse cleared his throat and softly spoke, "Lucky…call him Lucky Doe." Steve truly believed that, deep in his heart. The ex-paramedic had seen many gunshot victims bleed to death, either enroute to the hospital or upon arrival in the trauma rooms. But this had been different; it had almost a magical feel to it. "I’ll let Admissions know." The nurse ran his hand through his thinning, light brown hair in a sort of calming gesture.

  "What trauma surgeon is in charge of that patient?" The woman asked the E.R. nurses in front of her. She saw the puzzled look on their faces. "Why am I asking you," she muttered to herself, "first day of…hell, first hour of a new staff year." Her finger slammed down onto the intercom switch connecting her to the surgical arena for that particular patient. "Room One. Do you have the patient with multiple gunshot wounds?"

&n
bsp; "Yes!" was the reply heard over the low hum of static noise.

  "Your patient will be called Lucky Doe." The woman paused. "I need the name of the operating trauma surgeon please."

  There was silence. A moment later the intercom crackled to life. "Trivoli,

  Trauma Fellow Garrett Trivoli."

  The patient had been quickly transferred to the operating table, prepped and draped while the anesthesiologist hurriedly applied his monitoring devices to the young man’s body. Trivoli’s eyes never leaving the monitor, donned the customary protective clothing of the operating arena.

  "Place him in trendelenburg position and keep the temperature in this room at 50 degrees," the Fellow directed. "I’ll need size 8 gloves, please." She glared at the scrub nurse as she held out her hands. "I suspect that this will be the first and last time I have to tell you my glove size."