Do No Harm (Dr. Aubrey Drake #1)

by Avery Michaels

  “Well, are you going to talk to her parents, or am I?”

  “Let me. I could tell this was your first time. Perhaps it would be better for me to handle it from here, yeah?”

  It was meant as an insult, but it was truth, and I was happy to back down. Ben gently took my elbow and said, “We’re walking, Drake. You can’t get caught up on one patient. Look around.”

  I did. I saw too many people and too few doctors and nurses. “Why are y’all so short staffed?”

  “Jeez, Drake. I told you. The pay is shit and the hours are worse. You’re gonna have to keep up. I can’t tell you everything twice and babysit you too.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “I’m cute, though, huh?” He slung his hair to the side again.

  “You look like a grownup, popstar wannabe with that hair.”

  “Good, that’s exactly the look I’m going for.” He grabbed the next chart and started walking backward toward the next patient room. “We’re walking.”

  Chapter 2

  After a twelve-hour shift turned into fourteen, I was exhausted physically and mentally. I treated three gunshot wounds, four stab wounds, countless brawl injuries, and of course, the rape. That one I would never forget. Those were just the patients involved in a violent crime. There were countless others.

  I thought that maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew as I sat in the doctors’ lounge with my feet propped up, head laid back.

  I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, half the staff on my shift was standing over me.

  “Do you think she’s going to make it?” one of the nurses said.

  “Nah, she’s done,” the other doctor on duty commented.

  Ben pushed through. “She’s still here. Pay up.” They grumbled, but all handed him five dollars each.

  “I thought you bet against me?” I questioned him.

  He extended a hand and I took it. “I never bet against anyone. I’m a softy.” He shrugged. “Let me walk you out. It’s dangerous out there.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I told him as we walked out through the lobby, which was still brimming with people.

  “I have no doubt that you can, Drake, but it would make me feel better.”

  I looked up at him. “We’re walking,” I said with a smile.

  “Very funny.”

  “I thought so,” I said. “So, what’s your story, Ben?”

  “Wow, that’s a broad question.”

  “It’s a long walk to the car.”

  “I’m a nurse; I work here, and I live in the city. I guess that’s all you need to know about me. How about you?”

  “I’m a doctor; I work here, and I also live in the city.”

  “Well, there ya go. Now we’ve been properly introduced.” We walked the rest of the way in silence. He hit a button on his key fob, and I saw blinking lights. “That’s me. Are you going to be okay from here?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Yeah, you seem pretty capable, Drake. Maybe you’ll make it after all.” He walked toward his car, about fifty yards away.

  “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night, Ben. I think you want to be my friend,” I shouted dramatically across the empty parking deck.

  He walked back toward me, stepping in close. “Two more things you’ll learn about me, Drake. I’m the best nurse you’ll ever work with, and I’m not friends with any of my coworkers, so don’t get your hopes up. I would advise you not to get too attached to any of them either. It’s not good to get too close to the people you work with. Nothing personal.”

  At that, he turned and left me standing there. I heard his car door slam. Dang, that was mean. I slid into my car, promptly locking the doors. After what I’d seen, the allure of the big city had dissolved into a sea of violence and disorder.

  On the drive, all I could think of was the rape victim and the rapist that was still on the loose. How that could’ve been me. My apartment was only meant to be temporary. I had an offer pending on a house in The Village. The community was the best of the best. The house was way out of my price range, but I loved it and thought I wanted to build a life here, so I figured, why not? Now, I was rethinking that. I guess no one place is ever really safe.

  I was supposed to get off at six in the morning, but instead, it was eight. After the co-worker chitchat and morning traffic, it was almost ten before I got home. I stripped at the door, as I always did, not wanting to track the germs from the hospital into my home, and took a quick shower.

  I had a prewritten text that I had always sent my parents after long shifts when I was away from home. It said, “I’m safe, tired, and going to bed. Love you.” I pulled it up and hit Send. As close as we were, they knew not to expect to hear from me much while I was working. Years of med school had trained them on what to expect, or rather, what not to expect.

  After the night I’d had, I was out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  I awoke in the afternoon to the sun peeking through the space where my blackout curtains didn’t quite meet. I would have to fix that. I never could sleep with any sort of light, which made night shifts even harder, but that’s where the action was, so that’s where I wanted to be.

  I had two hours before my shift began, but since I didn’t have any friends in town—or anywhere really—I went on and headed into work. I knew they could use the help. Besides, I wanted to meet the day-shift people.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to make friends. It was just that I’d never slowed down long enough. Friendships and relationships took time and work. I’d been too busy, and had enough work on my plate since I was sixteen, to form any real relationships besides with my family. I’d had a couple of boyfriends in college, but nothing serious. They’d wanted to party. I’d wanted to graduate early, and I had. I excelled academically, but not socially. At twenty-seven, I hoped that would change now that I was settling down.

  Shops in the city beckoned to me as I drove by. My apartment was bare: brass tacks, my mom would say. It was temporary, sure, but it could stand to feel a little more like home. I thought I might do a little shopping with my first paycheck.

  When I finally found a parking place in the deck, I breezed inside, out of the cold, past all the waiting patients, and straight to the coffee pot. I sat down in the empty lounge hoping to meet some of my co-workers before things got crazy. Instead, Mr. Fowler, the administrator over emergency services, walked in. He’d been the one to hire me.

  “Dr. Drake, you’re early.”

  “Yes, sir; I thought you all could use an extra set of hands. It was pretty busy yesterday.”

  He laughed. He had a hearty laugh for such a young man. Jim Fowler was probably only forty, but he sounded like Santa. “I just reviewed the numbers from yesterday, and it was actually one of our quieter evenings.”

  “No way.” I stared.

  “Oh, but I hope that won’t deter you. I’ve already heard good things about your work. You were able to keep up with Ben Bailey I hear?”

  “Ben, yes, sir. Ben guided me. I’m very grateful that he took me under his wing.”

  “Well, it seems you two make quite a dynamic duo. You saw twice as many patients as the other teams. Ben is the best nurse I have. Anyone who can keep up with him is a keeper in my book.”

  “Is that how everyone works here? In teams? I’ve never worked like that before.”

  “Yes. We’ve found that if we pair a doctor and a nurse together, not only do patients get seen faster, but the treatment is more efficient as well. There’s less margin for error since doctors are present during the exam and treatment. It also keeps things moving. We keep one doctor at the desk to sign off on paperwork and floating nurses and nursing assistants to make sure that patients are being looked after. We are so overwhelmed, Dr. Drake, we had to try new methods. This works for us.”

  “Yes, it seems to.” I thought of how smoothly things had gone the night before, and how much more effi
cient I had felt, spending more time with patients and less time filling out paperwork. It was also nice to work with an adept nurse all evening instead of trying to get a feel for someone new every five minutes.

  “Ben is usually a floating nurse. None of the doctors enjoy working with him, but it’s only because he’s very efficient. He doesn’t sugarcoat anything.” He laughed again.

  “You’re right about that.”

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few more backs to pat before I leave for the day. I make it a habit of telling people what a good job they're doing. Studies show that happy employees work harder. Have a good shift.” He smiled as he walked out.

  I liked Mr. Fowler. He seemed to genuinely care about the people who worked here, not like most corporate-owned facilities. That was another thing that had drawn me to this hospital. It was corporate owned, of course, but it was still run by the family who had owned it since the beginning. It had been Fowler Memorial before it was bought out and renamed ATL Regional.

  So, Ben Bailey, huh? I hadn’t asked Ben his full name. How rude of me. I must’ve left my manners back in Juniper. In all fairness, it wasn’t like we’d sat around shooting the shit. We’d been very busy. Just as the thought crossed my mind, Ben walked in.

  “Well, if it isn’t Benjamin Bailey,” I said dramatically.

  “Are you stalking me, Drake? If so, I would urge you to get an earlier start. My grownup, popstar wannabe look is drawing quite a bit of attention from the ladies.”

  I fell back on the couch laughing. It wasn’t often I came across someone who had both a quick wit and brains. Ben was kind of cute, in a lead singer of a boy band sort of way. With dark brown hair, almost the same shade as mine, and green eyes, he had potential.

  Suddenly the door flew open. “Multiple gunshots. A robbery gone wrong. ETA two minutes.”

  I leapt to my feet as Ben grabbed the door. We both went straight to the supply cart, dressed in paper gowns and gloves, and stood at the door with all of the other available staff. Ben had loaded his pockets with supplies. I was just thinking I should’ve done that, too, when the ambulance bay doors opened and the shooting victims rolled in one by one.

  “Here we go, yo,” Ben said as he grabbed onto the first stretcher that came our way.

  Chapter 3

  “Ben,” I said as he pushed the little girl on the stretcher. “Ben, we need her parents. Go find her parents.”

  “Just do your job, Drake, and let me do mine,” he snapped.

  I didn’t get a chance to tell him to watch his tone, because as I assessed the girl, tears clouded my vision. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

  “Lou-Lou,” she whimpered.

  “Hey, there you are. My name is Aubrey, and I’m going to work with you, okay? My friend, Ben, is going to stick your hand, but it will only feel like a pinch. I need you to be brave.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “I know, sweetie. But I need you to stay awake for me. I’m going to get you fixed up.” I had hoped the tiny hole in her shirt didn’t line up with the actual wound, but as I snipped the fabric, I saw that it did. There was barely any blood on the front, but as I worked on the wound, the sheet behind her went from white to soaked in red.

  “Am I going home now?” she asked with big, brown, tear-filled eyes that were fixed on the drop ceiling.

  “No, baby. Ben, I need a number twenty scalpel, lidocaine, and sponges, lots of sponges. I have to get in there and cauterize—”

  “Drake, you aren’t a cardiac surgeon.”

  “Just do it!” I screamed at him as I changed into surgical gloves. I poured brown Betadine over the wound haphazardly then held out my hand. A lidocaine-filled syringe hit my gloved palm.

  “Lou-Lou, you’ll feel a bee sting here.” I injected the lido around the wound, hoping that I wasn’t too late to patch up the hole in her heart, or that maybe I would find it had missed her heart altogether.

  “Walk me home.”

  “Baby, we have to get you fixed up first. Do you have a dog? I had a dog when I was about your age. How old are you?” My voice cracked as I felt the handle of the scalpel hit my palm.

  “Okay. It’s okay. I have to go,” she said, taking my gloved hand into hers. I whipped off my gloves to grab a new sterile pair. “I have to go home. You know, Home,” she said, pointing at the ceiling.

  I looked up, then back at her, realizing she hadn’t been talking to me until now. “Jesus sent my Nana to walk me Home.”

  I got my gloves on and took the scalpel as her hand went limp and slipped down to her side. Two little pink rubber bracelets slipped from her wrist and hit the floor.

  I rubbed her sternum roughly; she wasn’t responding. “I need a crash cart in here! Come on, kiddo. Come on! Starting compressions,” I shouted. Ben stood beside me, watching. “Move your ass, Bailey!”

  “Drake.”

  “Get the cart. I need a milligram of epi,” I instructed. Ben did as I asked. He handed me everything I asked for and switched up on at least fifteen rounds of compressions. But the blood was coming out instead of pumping through her little body. So much so that it was dripping onto the floor.

  When I looked to him to switch on compressions again, he pressed his lips together and shook his head, so I continued on my own.

  “Aubrey.” He physically grabbed me by the shoulders. “No one could’ve survived that, and you know it.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “Look, the bullet went straight through her heart. I can’t believe she lasted as long as she did.”

  “Do you give up on everyone so easily?” I slapped at his chest to get him to turn me loose so I could return my attention to the patient.

  “I give up on the dead so I can help the living. Call it, Aubrey, so we can help someone else.”

  “No.”

  “Listen to all of those screaming people. They need us.”

  “Then go!” I laid my whole top half over the stretcher and bawled as Ben walked away. I’d lost patients before, but never a child. I suddenly didn’t feel as confident that I could handle this job.

  “Aubrey,” Ben said from the doorway. “We need you out here.”

  I wiped my face and placed a light kiss on the little girl’s forehead with an apology. Then I grabbed the bracelets, from the floor, for her family before I headed for the door, slipping them onto my own wrist for safekeeping.

  As I exited that room, I felt as though something inside me had become unhinged. A woman raped, a child murdered, countless other senseless violent acts…things I’d only heard on television, but never felt were real, until now.

  “Drake.” Ben startled me by grabbing both sides of my face, as though we’d known each other for more than a day. “Are you with me?” He stood close to a foot taller than me. He tilted my face up to look into my eyes as he wiped away fresh tears with his thumbs. “Are you?”

  “Yeah,” I managed.

  “Yeah?”

  “I said yes.”

  “That wasn’t your fault, Drake. There was nothing you could do.”

  “Oh, just shut up and show me where to be,” I snapped. He did just that. I went through the motions. I treated two flesh wounds from the shooting that had occurred during the dinner rush at a fast food restaurant. The two employees I’d treated said the robber got the cash but shot up the place anyway, after being confronted by a patron who was trying to stop the man from getting away. It made me angrier than I’d ever been, which spurred me forward.

  The next room I walked into was that of a man my age. He had multiple gunshot wounds and a head laceration. I wasn’t sure he would make it. Another physician came in to assist. He patched up the more external injuries while I used lidocaine and a pair of hemostats from Ben’s pocket to dig out a couple of the bullets that had miraculously missed his vital organs. He’d lost a lot of blood though. It was a good thing we had some to give. He actually awoke as I was sewing up his head laceration.

  “Sir, you’re o
kay. You’re at ATL Regional. You’ve been shot, but you’re going to be fine—”

  “My daughter, where is she? She was with me. Did someone pick her up? I’m sure she’s scared. You have to find her.”

  “Okay, calm down, sir. I’m sewing up your head. We’ll find her. What does she look like? There are a slew of family members in the waiting room. I will have my nurse go and look for her right now.”

  As he began describing her, my heart sank. I had to turn my head to keep my tears from hitting his face. I looked at Ben, who actually had tears in his eyes as well. The man noticed and started screaming violently. He knocked me backward and ripped every stitch I’d put in him as he jumped up then promptly passed out, hitting the floor with a thud.

  With that, I ran out of the room. I couldn’t—

  “Doctor, I need your help in here now!” a voice called from the room next door. When I didn’t immediately go in, she ran out and grabbed me. Ben was trying to get the unconscious man from the floor back up onto the stretcher while I was being physically pulled into the next room by another nurse. It was the first time I would be working on a patient without Ben.

  “What?” I snapped at the nurse whose name I didn’t know, and didn’t care to know. “What is it?”

  “White male, mid-forties. I can’t get his nose to stop bleeding. It’s gushing.”

  “You pulled me from a gunshot wound for a nose bleed?”

  “I…I can’t do this,” she said, holding her hands up. “I quit.” Then she was gone, leaving me alone with the nosebleed.

  “I’m sorry, sir. It’s been a long evening,” I said to the patient.

  “Yeah, it has. Can I get something for the pain?”

  “Pain? Where are you hurting?”

  “What kind of doctor are you? Can’t you see I’m bleeding?”

  I observed him for a moment. He was shaking, not violently, but more of a tremor. That coupled with his aggressive tone, and the marks on his arms, helped me come to a quick diagnosis.

  “Are you going through withdrawal, sir?” I asked while pinching the bridge of his nose. He nodded. I put his hand over his own nose, walked out to the drug drawer, which had been carelessly left unlocked in all the haste, and grabbed some medicine to ease his withdrawal. It wouldn’t give a high, per se, but it would relax him.