James barely made it in time for report. Susan Mills, head nurse for the unit, smiled up at him. “Rough morning?”
He grinned and wiped a hand over his wet hair. “I’m good. Dr. Hamilton called me last night to assist with his open-heart surgery this morning.”
“He called me too. I’m going to have to talk with the nursing director about bringing someone on to fill in for you when he does that.”
James agreed. He appreciated her compliance with Dr. Hamilton’s requests. Truth be told, James rather enjoyed serving as the doc’s assistant. “So what are we doing today? Do we have enough nurses?”
“Not really. I’ll cover your patients until you come back.”
“Thanks.” He stood. “I suppose I should head right up to the OR.”
Susan nodded. “Good plan.”
James entered the General Surgery Suite, which was situated next to Day Surgery on the third floor, and went straight to the sinks. He performed the presurgical washing ritual they always did. James stood next to Dr. Hamilton and sensed that something was off. Moisture beaded on the older man’s forehead and he looked uncomfortable. “Are you feeling all right, sir?”
“I’m fine.” He took in a sharp breath. “A little heartburn is all. I should know better than to eat sausage for breakfast.”
The cardiac surgeon, Harriet Hildebrand—Dr. Hildie to her patients and much of the staff—arrived and began talking with Dr. Hamilton about their patient, Dillon Blake. James completed his scrub, shoved his arms into the gown the operating room nurse held out to him and turned so she could tie it behind his back. He donned the sterile gloves and cap and headed into the sterile area.
One nurse was assigned to stand watch and keep the area sterile. Another laid out instruments on the trays; and the anesthesiologist sat at the patient’s head, watching the monitor. The patient murmured something unintelligible as a nurse told him he’d be asleep in less than a minute, which he was. The tray holding the heart-lung machine, which would support the patient’s circulation during the surgery, sat at the ready. Even though the surgery was commonly done, James couldn’t help feeling anxious.
The doctors approached the patient and the procedure began. Within minutes the man’s chest had been opened and clamped. James had seen the inside of the chest cavity many times, but seeing someone’s heartbeat was nothing short of a miracle. He prayed the surgery would go well and that the heart valve would be repaired perfectly.
James watched intently, handing off instruments as Dr. Hamilton asked for them—anticipating his every move. The heart-lung machine took over the work of the patient’s heart so that repairs could be made. Everything was running smoothly.
Then, suddenly, Dr. Hamilton moaned and began to sway. The instrument he was holding clattered to the floor.
“Oh no!” someone shouted.
“He’s going down!” James’s adrenaline kicked into high gear. He grabbed Dr. Hamilton under the arms and pulled him back away from the patient and toward the door.
In the ensuing chaos, Dr. Hildebrand stepped in and almost seamlessly took her colleague’s place. She quickly reordered the room and the OR staff continued on as if nothing had happened.
But something had happened. James paid little attention to the surgical team now. He had taken one look at the doctor’s ashen face and sweating brow, put his ear to the doctor’s chest and began shouting orders.
“Call a code blue.”
James immediately started chest compressions as a respiratory therapist tipped Dr. Hamilton’s head back to establish an airway and attach the valve mask resuscitator.
“Code blue surgery. Code blue surgery.”
The operator’s loud steady voice repeated the order again and again over the hospital’s PA system. Within seconds the emergency response team appeared. While James continued the compressions, four members of the team lifted Dr. Hamilton onto a stretcher. James rose with the stretcher and ran with them as they moved him from the operating arena to the Day Surgery Unit.
James kept up the compressions, then stepped back when the paddles appeared and one of the nurses yelled, “Clear!”
Someone had already hooked the doctor up to a portable heart monitor. The first jolt with the paddles produced no change in his weak heart rate. A second zap along with the epinephrine got the heart beating on its own. Dr. Hamilton’s heart transitioned into a normal sinus rhythm.
James felt like he’d just run a marathon. He sat for a moment while the team took Dr. Hamilton into one of the Day Surgery cubicles and hooked him up to the necessary monitors.
Since Dr. Hildebrand was still in surgery, James took it upon himself to call Dr. Hamilton’s wife at their home. After several rings, he heard the voice mail greeting and began to speak. “Mrs. Hamilton, this is James Bell at the hospital. It’s your husband, ma’am. We need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible.”
Anabelle had been making rounds and looking over charts when she heard the code blue. As always she wondered what was going on, but a code blue in surgery had her heart racing. Her first thought was of Dr. Hamilton and his patient.
As much as she wanted to know the details, Anabelle resisted the urge to rush to the surgical suite. Since she was not on the code team, she’d just be in the way. Besides, their team had excellent training, and she had a job to do. Still, she paused to offer up a prayer for the people involved.
After looking over Olga Pederson’s admission information, Anabelle stepped into the room. “Good morning, Mrs. Pederson.” Anabelle introduced herself, assessing the small, perky woman. The chart had indicated a weight of 115 and height of five foot two. “I heard you had some heart trouble last night.”
“Oh ya. Felt like my heart was gonna jump right out of my chest.” Olga had a definite Scandinavian accent. “Wasn’t sure they were gonna let me in here though.”
Anabelle frowned. “What do you mean?” She couldn’t imagine anyone in the ER turning a heart patient away. The triage nurses were well-qualified staff who were the first to examine a patient and determine the level of care and how quickly they needed to be seen.
“My neighbor drove me here, thank the Lord. First I had to tell the girl at the desk why I was there, then we had to tell this fellow named Triage. He says, ‘Since you are eighty-three, we need you to sign a paper to let us know whether you want to be resuscitated or not.’ I told him if I’d wanted to die, I’d a done so in my living room instead of coming all the way over here and waking up my neighbors to boot.”
“I guess you told him.” Anabelle grinned. She liked this lady’s spunk.
“Ya—it got him moving anyways.”
“I’ll bet.”
“The doc in the ER didn’t seem to think whatever I have was such a big deal, but it sure felt like it to me.”
“Atrial fibrillation can be scary, but it usually isn’t life threatening. It is an emergency, though, and can lead to some problems. I’m glad you came in. It looks like the medications Dr. Weller gave you to slow your heart are working.”
“Ya, I think so. I’m still not breathing so good. Is it going to happen again? Was it a heart attack?”
“Not a heart attack.” Anabelle glanced up at the monitor. “Your heart seems to be working just fine now. It isn’t unusual for people to be frightened or feel stressed when something like this happens. I’ll see if the doctor can order something to relax you.”
“How long do I need to stay in here?”
“Just until we determine what’s going on. Maybe two to three days. I didn’t see any family listed on your admission chart.”
“I have a daughter in Portland and four grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren. The oldest girl recently had her second baby. I got to go out there this summer to see my newest great grandchild. What a beautiful baby.”
“Would you like me to call your daughter?”
“Oh no. You mustn’t call Carla. She’s so busy; and if you call her, she’ll insist on coming. I’d just as so
on she not know. The last thing I want is to be a burden to her.”
“I can understand that. But what makes you think you’ll be a burden?”
Olga sighed and glanced out the window. Her blue eyes had taken on the dim gray of the sky. “Carla has been asking me to come live with her for the last ten years. I would like to be near the children, but I’d go crazy living with them. Besides, I met my husband in Deerford. We raised our children here. I can’t give up my home.”
Anabelle had met many people like Olga—senior citizens facing the prospect of not being independent anymore. “Sometimes we have to make difficult decisions, but for you it’s a little too soon to worry.” Anabelle explained that medications usually worked well. “There’s no reason to think you won’t be back to your usual self soon. Besides, no one can force you to move as long as you are able to care for yourself.”
“I am that,” Olga said. “Or I was. People tell me all the time to slow down, but I’m not about to quit now.”
“Good for you.” Anabelle patted her hand. “You might want to tone it down a bit while you’re in the hospital. We want to get that heart of yours stabilized and running like it’s supposed to.”
“Maybe I should have something to make me relax. My daughter complains about my fidgeting—tells me I can’t stand to sit around doing nothing.”
“I’ll do that.” Anabelle pulled the business end of her stethoscope out of her pocket and warmed it in her hand. “Do you mind if I take a listen to your chest and lungs?”
“Go ahead. I was alive the last time I checked.”
Anabelle laughed and placed the stethoscope in various areas of Olga’s chest. “Your lungs sound clear and your heart sounds good as well. I can definitely verify that you’re alive.”
“Thank you.” Olga grasped Anabelle’s hand. “I’ve never been sick—not enough to put me in the hospital. I always prayed that when I went, it would be fast.”
“I’ve prayed that for myself too, but sometimes God has other ideas.”
“Ya. He does.” She sighed and rested her hands on her abdomen.
Anabelle smiled and gripped Olga’s hand. “I have a feeling that whatever happens, you’ll be right where God wants you.”
When Anabelle stepped out of the room, Becky signaled to her from the nurses’ desk. “We’re getting a new patient. I’ve asked the girls to get 206 ready.” She blew out a breath, ruffling her dark bangs. “It’s not good, Anabelle. It’s Dr. Hamilton. He had a heart attack.”
Anabelle felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. She gasped for breath; and though she didn’t think her legs would hold her up, she struggled to maintain her composure.
“He’s stabilized and should be down here in a few minutes.”
Chapter Four
WITH SHAKING HANDS, CANDACE CRENSHAW fumbled in her purse for money to pay the cafeteria attendant for a tall cup of black coffee. Hopefully the brew would calm her shattered nerves.
Tears edged near the surface. She’d thought she was ready to be on the code blue team. Today proved her wrong. She’d barely been able to function. One look at Dr. Hamilton lying on the floor, being stripped, poked and prodded nearly broke her heart. The images yanked her back three years as flashbacks of Dean flooded her mind, making it impossible to focus on her duties. Her husband had died from a brain aneurism, leaving her with two small children to rear.
But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to get beyond the grief and move on. Time and again she thought she’d done just that, only to have it surface again.
Heath Carlson from Radiology, also part of the code blue team, had noticed her distress right away. He’d led her to a chair and told her to sit down. “I’ll take over for you,” he’d said. He’d done that and more. The ordeal was over now; but for Candace, shreds of panic still remained.
Why is it so hard to forget? Why do the flashbacks keep coming back? Candace wished she knew.
With the trauma resolved, Heath had ushered her to the cafeteria. Now, he came up behind her with his coffee and a pastry and offered to pay for her coffee as well.
She started to refuse, then gave in. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back later.”
“My treat.”
Her cheeks warmed at the kind gesture. With all the crazy feelings churning her insides at the sight of Dr. Hamilton, she didn’t trust herself to speak. Part of her wanted Heath to leave her alone so she could process the series of events on her own. Candace feared his soft gaze would send her into a full-scale crying jag. Lord knew she’d had enough of those.
Another part of her was thankful for his presence. They had met when she had helped his sister-in-law Chrissy deliver her baby. Candace got to know him briefly when he’d come to see his new nephew.
At five foot ten, Heath was fit and trim with curly golden-blond hair and vivid blue eyes that seemed to read her a bit too easily. His cheeks creased in a smile as they sat down at one of the tables. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”
“I’m sure.” Though she found Heath attractive, nothing could come of it except, maybe, friendship. She was nowhere near ready for a relationship. They sat in silence for several minutes while Candace drank her coffee and Heath attacked his croissant.
“Thank you.” She appreciated that he didn’t try to make small talk while she gathered her frazzled self together.
“You’re welcome.” He grinned again. “You’re looking better. What happened back there?”
“Flashback.” While she had not seen her husband being worked on by the hospital staff, she knew what had happened. Being a nurse made the scenes in her head as real as if she had been there in person.
“Did it have something to do with your husband’s death?” He hesitated. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“It’s all right. It did actually have to do with Dean.” She took another sip of coffee. “I should probably resign from the code team. I thought I was ready, but apparently not.”
He set his plate aside. “I know this isn’t any of my business, but Chrissy tells me it’s been three years since Dean’s death. Have you considered seeing a counselor?”
He talked to Chrissy about me? Not that it mattered, everyone associated with the hospital knew. She bent her head and rubbed her forehead. “My mother and sister have suggested that, but honestly, I don’t know if it would help. I know grief inside and out. What is a counselor going to tell me that I don’t already know?”
“Sometimes,” he said, “we go about the healing all wrong. We try to work things out and figure that if we look good on the outside and are coping, we’re doing okay. But true healing happens from the inside out.”
Candace raised her head and found herself looking into his empathetic blue eyes. “It sounds good, but how does this kind of healing happen?”
“It just does. You open yourself up to it.” He checked at his watch. “I’m sorry. I have to run.” He rose and leaned toward her, hands pressed on the table. “Would you like to meet me for coffee after work? We can talk some more.”
Candace swallowed hard and couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I can’t.”
He pursed his lips and nodded in understanding. “You’ll be okay?”
“Yes. Thanks.” Candace actually didn’t feel okay, but she didn’t want to concern anyone with her problems. The turmoil she’d suffered off and on since Dean’s death threatened to drag her under once again. All she wanted to do was go to bed, pull the covers over her head and sleep for a month.
Thankfully, she had a job; and right now, she needed to get back to the Birthing Unit and her duties there. Candace pushed aside the oppressive thoughts and, after tossing her trash, hurried toward the stairs.
In the lobby, she paused, her gaze taking in the chapel door. Maybe a brief detour there would help her gain perspective. She entered the small room and eased into the back pew. There were six oak pews, all empty at the moment. A plain oak altar drew her attention to the front of the room. Abo
ve it, light streamed through the abstract design of a stained-glass window creating colorful images across the room. In the left front corner, a large cross of dark cherry wood stood in the center of a raised platform. At the base, a gentle stream of water circulated over rocks, creating the gentle sound of a babbling brook. Green foliage crowded around the cross and the water’s edge.
Candace drew in the beauty and the sound as she prayed once more for strength to carry on. She thought about Heath’s comment about healing. “Please, Lord, let me heal from the inside out. I don’t want to forget Dean, but I can’t go on in this way either.”
James stayed with Dr. Hamilton until CCU called saying they had a bed ready. He personally guided the gurney along the hallway into the service elevator to the second floor and into the Cardiac Care Unit.
The nursing supervisor, Anabelle Scott, and Head Nurse Becky Simms left the nurses’ station and led them into what would be the doctor’s room.
Anabelle had paled when James brought him into the unit. He knew how close she was to Dr. Hamilton.
“I’ve assigned Becky to him.” She pinched her lips together as her gaze shifted from James to Dr. Hamilton.
James nodded his approval. “That’s good.” Becky was one of their best cardiac nurses. Her experience of ten years in both ER and Coronary Care made her an exceptional choice.
James followed them and helped Anabelle and Becky transfer Dr. Hamilton onto the bed and hook up the monitors.
Doc Hamilton opened his eyes and closed them again. “What’s going on?” he murmured.
“Hey, doc. You gave us all quite a scare.” James attached another lead. “You went into cardiac arrest during the operation. Dr. Hildebrand was able to take over the surgery for you.”
“That’s impossible. Are you sure?” The doctor clutched at the bedspread. He started to sit up, groaned and sank back against a pillow.
“I was there, sir. I managed to catch you when you passed out. I called the code blue myself. I did the chest compressions.” James blew out a sharp breath. “I saw you flatline. So, yeah, I’m sure.”
Chasing the Wind Page 3
