“You need to drain out the blood in his abdomen,” she said to him. “Can you handle that?”
“I can,”
“Alright, I’m going to focus on doing a ligation to stop the hemorrhaging. I need to find the tear or else he’ll bleed to death in five minutes.”
“Shouldn’t we move him to the OR first? It’s a very bad call to open his abdomen here, it’s not a sterile environment.”
“Let’s move him to the Hybrid Room then, he won’t make it if we have to go all the way to the OR.”
“His vitals are dropping!” the nurse by her side said, and Joan stopped in her tracks. She fisted her hands in despair and said with a shaky voice. “Somebody please get me Doctor Pace, I can’t do this alone.”
A nurse ran off to do as she’d asked while she stared at the neck brace around the patient’s neck confused as to what to do.
“Dr. Graves!” the Head Nurse called and she snapped back into action.
“Um... uh,” she took the stethoscope from around her neck and listened to his breathing. “His lung sound is weakening. Give him uh… 10 liters of oxygen and uh… get- get an IV and hydrate him.”
“Got it!”
“BP is at 60/40, heart rate is 128,” the announcement came.
“Hook him up to a ventilator, I need to perform an intubation. Get me a bowl of water to wash my hands,” she called out as she worked. “And some gloves, and a surgical robe.”
“Are you really going to cut open his abdomen here?” the resident asked, horrified, and she snapped at him. “What else do you want me to do? Let him die by moving him around? Stop talking to me! Have you gotten the blood out?”
Confused at the order not to talk to her, he answered either way. “I just inserted the trocar,” he said.
After she was done, she hurried away to wash her hands and began to put on her gloves. “Put the ventilator on CMV mode, and get a propofol continuous infusion in him,” she said as she struggled with her gloves. “Also some rocuronium.”
When she was done, she came back over and asked. “How much blood have you extracted?”
“About 400 cc’s, and more is still coming out.”
“Scalpel,” she said, and the moment she received the blade, she held it over his lower abdomen. Her hands were shaking. Someone came over then to wipe the sweat from her brow, just as the tears gathered in her eyes. It had been four years since she had even come close to such a situation, how could he thrust something so complicated upon her? She was going to kill this man!
“Where the hell is Caleb?” she yelled, and the nurse came running back. “Dr. Pace is on an important phone call,” she said. “He said to tell you that he will be here when he is done.
Joan could not believe her ears.
“Bastard!” she cursed and tried her best to focus. She took deep breaths and then made the slit down his lower abdomen.
“Suction,” she called and was handed over the gauze. She cut a wider opening and then praying to God, slipped her hands inside and began to search for the torn blood vessel.”
“His vitals are dropping,” announced the nurse in panic and Joan wanted to slap her silly.
Eventually, she found the vessel, and let out a cry of relief.
“Hemostat,” she called, barely able to speak, and it was handed over to her. She clamped it and then tilted the handle to a nurse. “Hold onto this,” she said.
“Um… s-string. Number 2- no! 3.”
It was handed over to her and with it, she was able to slowly repair the tear. When she was done, she stumbled backward in exhaustion but one of the male nurses lent her support and uprighted her.
“Cover it with film, and send him to one of the attendants in the OR for a splenorrhagia surgery.”
“Yes, doctor,” came the reply, and she walked away in a daze. Tearing off her gloves, she headed out of the ER, full of disbelief at what she had just been through. What if she hadn’t recalled anything and had completely lost her skills?
If she had been told to imagine the worst case that could possibly have been thrust upon her after a four-year hiatus, this would not have even crossed her mind. Nobody could be cruel enough to do that to her, not even the heavens. But Caleb had. He was a bloody bastard. That man could have died right in front of her very eyes!
He had tossed her into an ocean of sharks and then left to sit in his office. She couldn’t believe it. The tears rolled down her face as she trembled from the stressful experience. She arrived in front of Caleb’s office and without even bothering to knock, pushed it open and went in to see that he was still on the call. At her expression, he ended it and rose to his feet.
“Aisha?” he called.
“How could you?” she cried.
“You did well,” he said. “That was an extremely difficult call, and you made the right choice.”
“Caleb!” she yelled, her eyes strained and reddened from the ordeal, and he couldn’t say a word. She pulled off her robe as though it was burning her and flung it at him. Then she picked up the books by the coffee table and aimed them at his head in fury but he was able to avoid them. They hit the wall and fell to the ground, and so did she. She collapsed onto her knees, and when he came around to help her up, she violently pushed his hands away.
He sat down quietly on the floor by her and watched her as she gazed into thin air. The rage in her had been spent, and minutes later, all she could feel was a bitter cold that coursed through her veins. She held up her hand in a fist and began to hit his chest with slow, agonized blows. “Why are you doing this to me?” she muttered. “Why?”
He let her hit him until she grew weary and soon she found herself in his arms. Her head was against his chest, and he had his arms tightly around her.
The door suddenly opened but she did not know who came in. It was thereafter shut and soon they were left alone once more. She would never know how much time passed. When she finally began to rise, he helped her up, and when she turned around to leave, she told him not to follow her.
She knew that he would respect her wishes, so she left and headed over to her office.
Chapter 11
Joan headed over to the man with an ultrasound machine at hand, and almost collapsed upon his examination. He truly had a fatal hemorrhage from a ruptured spleen. Cursing Dr. Pace and everything he was in her mind, she tried her best to remain calm and called over one of the residents.
“You need to drain out the blood in his abdomen,” she said to him. “Can you handle that?”
“I can,”
“Alright, I’m going to focus on doing a ligation to stop the hemorrhaging. I need to find the tear or else he’ll bleed to death in five minutes.”
“Shouldn’t we move him to the OR first? It’s a very bad call to open his abdomen here, it’s not a sterile environment.”
“Let’s move him to the Hybrid Room then, he won’t make it if we have to go all the way to the OR.”
“His vitals are dropping!” the nurse by her side said, and Joan stopped in her tracks. She fisted her hands in despair and said with a shaky voice. “Somebody please get me Doctor Pace, I can’t do this alone.”
A nurse ran off to do as she’d asked while she stared at the neck brace around the patient’s neck confused as to what to do.
“Dr. Graves!” the Head Nurse called and she snapped back into action.
“Um... uh,” she took the stethoscope from around her neck and listened to his breathing. “His lung sound is weakening. Give him uh… 10 liters of oxygen and uh… get- get an IV and hydrate him.”
“Got it!”
“BP is at 60/40, heart rate is 128,” the announcement came.
“Hook him up to a ventilator, I need to perform an intubation. Get me a bowl of water to wash my hands,” she called out as she worked. “And some gloves, and a surgical robe.”
“Are you really going to cut open his abdomen here?” the resident asked, horrified, and she snapped at him. “What else do you want me to do
? Let him die by moving him around? Stop talking to me! Have you gotten the blood out?”
Confused at the order not to talk to her, he answered either way. “I just inserted the trocar,” he said.
After she was done, she hurried away to wash her hands and began to put on her gloves. “Put the ventilator on CMV mode, and get a propofol continuous infusion in him,” she said as she struggled with her gloves. “Also some rocuronium.”
When she was done, she came back over and asked. “How much blood have you extracted?”
“About 400 cc’s, and more is still coming out.”
“Scalpel,” she said, and the moment she received the blade, she held it over his lower abdomen. Her hands were shaking. Someone came over then to wipe the sweat from her brow, just as the tears gathered in her eyes. It had been four years since she had even come close to such a situation, how could he thrust something so complicated upon her? She was going to kill this man!
“Where the hell is Caleb?” she yelled, and the nurse came running back. “Dr. Pace is on an important phone call,” she said. “He said to tell you that he will be here when he is done.
Joan could not believe her ears.
“Bastard!” she cursed and tried her best to focus. She took deep breaths and then made the slit down his lower abdomen.
“Suction,” she called and was handed over the gauze. She cut a wider opening and then praying to God, slipped her hands inside and began to search for the torn blood vessel.”
“His vitals are dropping,” announced the nurse in panic and Joan wanted to slap her silly.
Eventually, she found the vessel, and let out a cry of relief.
“Hemostat,” she called, barely able to speak, and it was handed over to her. She clamped it and then tilted the handle to a nurse. “Hold onto this,” she said.
“Um… s-string. Number 2- no! 3.”
It was handed over to her and with it, she was able to slowly repair the tear. When she was done, she stumbled backward in exhaustion but one of the male nurses lent her support and uprighted her.
“Cover it with film, and send him to one of the attendants in the OR for a splenorrhagia surgery.”
“Yes, doctor,” came the reply, and she walked away in a daze. Tearing off her gloves, she headed out of the ER, full of disbelief at what she had just been through. What if she hadn’t recalled anything and had completely lost her skills?
If she had been told to imagine the worst case that could possibly have been thrust upon her after a four-year hiatus, this would not have even crossed her mind. Nobody could be cruel enough to do that to her, not even the heavens. But Caleb had. He was a bloody bastard. That man could have died right in front of her very eyes!
He had tossed her into an ocean of sharks and then left to sit in his office. She couldn’t believe it. The tears rolled down her face as she trembled from the stressful experience. She arrived in front of Caleb’s office and without even bothering to knock, pushed it open and went in to see that he was still on the call. At her expression, he ended it and rose to his feet.
“Aisha?” he called.
“How could you?” she cried.
“You did well,” he said. “That was an extremely difficult call, and you made the right choice.”
“Caleb!” she yelled, her eyes strained and reddened from the ordeal, and he couldn’t say a word. She pulled off her robe as though it was burning her and flung it at him. Then she picked up the books by the coffee table and aimed them at his head in fury but he was able to avoid them. They hit the wall and fell to the ground, and so did she. She collapsed onto her knees, and when he came around to help her up, she violently pushed his hands away.
He sat down quietly on the floor by her and watched her as she gazed into thin air. The rage in her had been spent, and minutes later, all she could feel was a bitter cold that coursed through her veins. She held up her hand in a fist and began to hit his chest with slow, agonized blows. “Why are you doing this to me?” she muttered. “Why?”
He let her hit him until she grew weary and soon she found herself in his arms. Her head was against his chest, and he had his arms tightly around her.
The door suddenly opened but she did not know who came in. It was thereafter shut and soon they were left alone once more. She would never know how much time passed. When she finally began to rise, he helped her up, and when she turned around to leave, she told him not to follow her.
She knew that he would respect her wishes, so she left and headed over to her office.
Chapter 12
Caleb could not bring himself to remain in his office, so he left and headed down to hers.
When he arrived, he couldn’t knock so he waited by the door and leaned his head against it. Perhaps he had gone too far, way too soon, and had pushed her beyond her limit. Seeing the shock in her eyes, he deeply regretted it. A couple of nurses passed by and were surprised to see him by her door, but they just quickly moved away. He didn’t care.
A few minutes later, he received a call and reluctantly headed over to the Director’s office. When he arrived, he knocked and was granted entrance to meet a panel awaiting him.
Seated was the father of the girl who had lost her life while he operated on Aisha, and another man who seemed to be his colleague.
“Dr. Pace,” the Director called, and Caleb turned towards the kind, graying man. “Please have a seat, these men are from the medical board.”
He did as he was told, and the Director stated the grievances that they had against him.
“Under the circumstances,” he answered. “I made a call, which I wholly stand by to this day.”
“You bastard!” the girl’s father spat. “You’re still unrepentant. After sacrificing my daughter, you still have the audacity to wear such a smug look on your face?”
“Mr. Crane, let us be civil,” said the Director. “This is an official meeting.”
The man went on. “There were two simultaneous cases!” he yelled. “Both important but one crucial and urgent. And you chose wrongly. My child lost her life because you lack common sense. And here you are still insanely standing by your actions? I’ve asked around,” he said, “and nothing makes sense to me. Who is that patient that you sacrificed my daughter for? What is she to you?”
The Director cleared his throat. “Mr. Crane, please calm down. We do not discriminate against any patients here, but dutifully attend to emergency cases in the order that we see fit-“
“So what is your comment on the order that he followed?” the man asked, his eyes filled with anger.
The Director was silent for a few moments. “Mr. Crane…” he began.
“Answer me!”
“Answer him,” his colleague urged.
“The Director glanced at Caleb who was watching the man and spoke. “I stand by Dr. Pace’s judgment. Since he deemed the glass shard patient’s case more urgent, then I will support him to the very end. I have known him for years and he would never put his personal feelings before the care of any patient. He could be working in the best hospitals in the country, but instead, he had chosen to bless us here with his presence. That alone is more than enough testament to his pure heartedness and true dedication to patient care.”
“I made the best call that I could in the moment,” Caleb said. “I am truly sorry for your loss, but I do not regret my actions. Have a good day.”
The man shot to his feet. “Don’t you dare to walk out of here otherwise you will be finished!” he yelled. “Do you hear me? I will destroy you until there is no hospital in this entire world that would ever accept you!”
Caleb walked out of the office and shut the door solidly behind him.
He tried to control his frustration by taking deep breaths, but when it didn’t help, he headed down to a quiet corridor and leaned his back against the wall. He thought of the little girl… and then of Aisha, and the tears filled his eyes. He lowered his gaze to the floor and tried his best to control his sobbing.
The anger burst out of him, as well as the grief - both for the woman he’d thought he had lost forever, and the girl that he had sacrificed to save her. But was any of it worth it? He had been wrong, he knew, but he had been too scared to have made an alternative choice. He knew that his failure to save the little girl was a scar that would be forever engraved in his heart, and one that would be impossible to forget.
However, all he asked in return for this sear of his conscience, was that Aisha would respond to him as he hoped, and bring his torment to an end. That would be a price well worth any sacrifice, but instead, she was shutting him out, the more he tried to get closer to her.
Taming The Billionaire Page 12
