Chasing the Wind

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Dr. Hamilton closed his eyes again. “I thought it was just heartburn.”

  “I’m afraid not.” James wiped the perspiration from his own forehead with the back of his hand.

  “I guess I have you to thank for saving my life, then.”

  James smiled. “I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. The code team brought you back.”

  “This shouldn’t have happened. I’m in great shape. I run twenty miles a week and work out nearly every day.” He paused. “You’ll forgive my skepticism, James, but I need to see the test results for myself.” He glanced up and back at the heart monitor. “Looks pretty good now.”

  “Let’s try to keep it that way.” Becky checked his vital signs and jotted them down. “We’ll let you rest for a while. And, Dr. Hamilton, please do try to relax.”

  “Humph.” He frowned and placed a hand on his chest right over his heart.

  “I’d better be going.” James turned toward the door.

  “James.” Dr. Hamilton’s voice sounded scratchy and weak.

  “Yeah?” He turned back just before stepping out of the room.

  “Thank you.”

  James nodded and followed Anabelle and Becky back to the nurses’ station. He gave the women a detailed report even though the incident and everything that transpired had been written up in his record. “I called his wife, but she didn’t answer. Maybe you have a cell phone number or something.”

  “I’ll make sure we reach her.” Anabelle scurried to her office across the way.

  The adrenaline rush that had gotten him through the ordeal had fizzled under a load of concern and guilt. He leaned against the wall and tipped his head back.

  “Are you okay James?” Becky paused before going into the doctor’s room again.

  “Yeah. I’ve been through these before, you know, but—”

  “It’s always harder when the patient is one of our own.” She offered an empathic smile.

  “You’re right about that.” James turned and headed toward Anabelle’s office. He found her on the phone. She shook her head and set the receiver back in its cradle. “Genna isn’t answering.”

  “Can we talk for a minute?” James rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Sure. Close the door and have a seat.” Anabelle’s eyes belied the businesslike tone of her voice. Like him, she was having trouble holding it together. “What’s going on? Is it Fern?”

  He and Anabelle had been friends for a long time and went to the same church. He often confided in Anabelle about Fern’s MS.

  “No, not Fern. I wanted to talk to you about Dr. Hamilton.”

  Anabelle frowned. “Okay.”

  “There’s a problem.” James leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Dr. Hamilton shouldn’t have been in surgery this morning.”

  “What do you mean?” She met his gaze head-on.

  “I had a feeling something was wrong before surgery. The doc didn’t look so good. He insisted he was fine, but I should have said something to someone. I shouldn’t have let him operate.”

  Anabelle sighed. “Oh, James. I can understand how you must feel, but you and I know hindsight is always better than foresight. I’m sure you did your best.”

  “I’m not so sure.” He frowned.

  “James.” Anabelle placed her hand on his arm. “I hate to say this, but if anyone is negligent in all of this, it’s Dr. Hamilton. If he wasn’t feeling well, he should have stepped down.” She paused as if the words she’d spoken were just sinking in. “We both know that Drew would never do anything to harm a patient—which leads me to believe that he sincerely felt he could safely operate when he walked into that room.”

  James wasn’t convinced. He should have followed his instincts. He just hoped everything went well with the patient and with Dr. Hamilton.

  Dr. Hamilton was one of the most liked and popular doctors at Hope Haven, and nearly everyone who worked there had come into the unit to check on him.

  He also had to be one of the most disgruntled patients Anabelle had ever had in the unit. She knew his grumpiness came out of fear and denial, but that didn’t make caring for him any easier.

  After at least two dozen visitors, Anabelle called the volunteer desk. Phyllis Getty, the feisty eighty-four-year-old volunteer and member of the Hospital Auxiliary, answered the phone.

  “Hi, Phyllis. This is Anabelle. We’re getting way too many visitors for Dr. Hamilton.”

  “I think so too.” Her hoarse chuckle followed. “I’ll put a stop to it, but we might want to let this next one through.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s Genevieve.”

  Anabelle blew out a long breath. “Good. Send her back, but no one else.”

  “Okey-dokey,” Phyllis added before hanging up.

  Anabelle sent a prayer upward. “Maybe now that Genna is here, he’ll settle down a bit.”

  She hurried toward the unit entrance to greet Genna. “I’m so glad we finally reached you.”

  “How’s Drew?” Genna asked, out of breath and panting. Tears rimmed her eyes. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “He’s ornery so we are expecting good things.”

  That brought out a smile and slowed Genna’s steps. “Good. I knew something was going on, but I thought it was his stomach—like ulcers or something. So did he.”

  “You were right to be concerned.” Anabelle gave her a brief overview of what had happened. “He has a good strong heartbeat now. Dr. Hildebrand should be in shortly to see him. We need him to rest, but he doesn’t seem inclined to do that. Maybe you can help.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Anabelle escorted Genna to the room. Tears surfaced as she watched the couple embrace. She pulled the curtain slightly to give them privacy and went to answer a call light. She hoped Becky would return from her break soon. She definitely needed one of her own.

  Several minutes later, Dr. Hildebrand came into the unit. Her thick blonde hair was pulled back in a tidy bun. She wore oversized green scrubs that washed her out and made her already-overweight figure seem larger. “How is Dr. Hamilton?”

  Anabelle brought her up to date. “The results of the lab tests are here.”

  Dr. Hildebrand called his information up on the computer. “I see that. No surprises here.”

  “He’s not taking this very well. Of course no one does, but he’s in denial. He says he won’t believe it until he sees the results himself.”

  “Okay, print them out and we’ll let the good doctor diagnose himself.” Dr. Hildie was usually good natured with an easy smile. Now she seemed annoyed and out of sorts.

  Anabelle highlighted the page, hit the Print button and brought the results with her to the room. Dr. Hildebrand took the results from Anabelle and handed the papers to Dr. Hamilton and crossed her arms. “See for yourself.”

  He studied the results and handed them back and shrugged, his face showing none of the concern Anabelle felt he should have. “Okay, you win.”

  “Drew, you need to take this seriously.” Dr. Hildie glanced over at Genna and back again. “This may be a onetime thing, or it may be an ongoing problem. We need to do a full workup. I’ll order a nuclear scan, echocardiogram and angiogram.”

  She sighed. “I hate to ask, Genna, but I really need to talk to Drew alone for a moment.”

  “Oh, sure.” Genna rose from the chair, leaned her slender form over the rail and kissed her husband’s cheek. “I need a latte anyway. Be back in a few minutes.”

  Anabelle stepped out of the room as well.

  Just prior to the glass door’s sliding shut, she heard Dr. Hildie say, “This doesn’t look good for either one of us, Drew.”

  Five minutes later Dr. Hildebrand stepped out of the room and sat in front of one of the computers at the nurses’ station.

  Seri, one of the nurse’s aides, sidled up to Anabelle. “I don’t know what Dr. Hildebrand said to Dr. Hamilton, but it did not make him happy.”

  “She told him the truth
about his condition.” Anabelle, too, had been stubbornly hoping that Dr. Drew hadn’t really had a heart attack.

  “Okay, I know about the emotional stuff, but he’s just laying there staring out the window.”

  “That’s a good thing right now. He needs to rest.” Anabelle appreciated the girl’s concern.

  Anabelle checked on him again just before her break. The change was palpable. He’d gone from being irascible to sullen. Anabelle knew that when patients experienced a tragic event, part of the grieving process was often denial. With acceptance came sadness and often depression. Something in his countenance told her it might be more complicated than that. She prayed he would recover and come back as strong and energetic as ever. And she prayed that James and Dr. Hildie were wrong and that there would not be any legal implications against Drew for going ahead with the operation when he wasn’t feeling well. Doctors had been sued for less.

  Chapter Five

  BY NOON ON MONDAY, ELENA RODRIGUEZ WAS more than ready for a break or, even better, a day off. Maybe even a week off. The Intensive Care Unit was usually one of the busiest places in the hospital, and today was no exception. That morning, they had gotten two admits—both in critical condition. The first was a fifty-year-old man who’d fallen from a two-story building at a construction site; the second, a woman who’d been involved in a head-on collision just outside of town. She had been put into a medical coma to rest her body and her brain and to allow both to heal. Her husband sat in the chair beside the bed, holding his head in his hands and occasionally looking up at the monitors.

  Her nursing supervisor, Marge Matthews, had assigned both patients to Elena, and she’d been running back and forth between the two of them all morning. The morning had been crazy, and unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to meet Anabelle as they had planned. Anabelle hadn’t minded of course—flexibility was an important part of the job.

  At one, Elena finally took her lunch break. She ate quickly and then pulled out her notebook, efficiently swapping from nursing hat to Grandma hat. Her sweet Isabel would be five soon, and Elena was probably more excited than the birthday girl. Elena pictured her adorable dark-haired princess and smiled.

  Isabel and her daddy—Elena’s son Rafael—lived with her and her husband Cesar. They would have the party in their backyard, which had recently been beautifully landscaped by Evan Scott, Anabelle’s son. He had done the work at cost this past spring. Such a gift. They had thoroughly enjoyed it all summer, especially the pool and hot tub. It was an extravagance; but with both Elena and Cesar using part of their salaries, they were able to manage and invest in their home.

  She had already started a guest list for the party. First on the list was Anabelle, then Candace and James. She had jotted down several neighbors and family members, including her own mother and grandmother. Thinking about them brought pleasant memories.

  Every year, Elena managed to get a five-generation picture. She hoped this year would be the same. Her grandmother would turn eighty-eight this year. So far, she’d been active and in relatively good health. Abuela, the Spanish word for “grandmother” and “old lady,” had always told Elena they were blessed with longevity genes.

  She and Isabel had put together a list of children from the day care/preschool and Sunday school class. This would be Isabel’s first time to invite friends, and that would be a challenge in itself. Elena told her she could invite five children close to her age.

  “Hey there.” Anabelle took the chair across from her. “I’m surprised you’re still here, since this is the earliest I could get away.”

  “Me too.” Elena told her about her admissions and they talked for several minutes about Dr. Hamilton. News had spread quickly among the hospital employees.

  Candace took the seat next to Anabelle. “Hi, guys. I’m glad you’re still here. You must have had a busy morning too.”

  “You might say that.” Elena smiled.

  “What are all these notes for?” Candace asked, nodding toward Elena’s papers.

  “Isabel’s party.” Elena told them all about her plans so far. “You and the kids are invited.”

  “How fun. Howie and Brooke love parties.” Her smile turned bittersweet. “Though with Brooke’s being eleven-going-on-twenty, she may consider herself too old to play with the children.”

  Anabelle sighed. “Kids grow up way too fast. Enjoy those parties while you can.”

  “I am fortunate to have a second chance.” Elena put a star on Candace’s and Anabelle’s names indicating they’d been asked and would be coming.

  “You are indeed,” Anabelle agreed. “I loved planning parties for my three when they were little. I must have made every kind of cake you can imagine. I did a princess cake one time where you bake part of the batter in a bowl to make a dress. I bought a doll to slip into the top. It was gorgeous with pink and white frosting. Loveliest cake I ever made. When I went to cut into the skirt to serve it, the inside wasn’t done and batter oozed out all over the place. The kids thought it was a hoot. Called it a lava cake and ate it anyway.”

  Elena laughed. “Now they make lava cakes on purpose.”

  Candace set her fork on her plate and reached for her water. “I’ve had a few fiascoes myself. Mom usually makes the cakes now, or we get ice-cream cakes at the grocery.”

  For the next few minutes they talked about past birthdays, decorations, the party store and themes. Elena wanted something colorful with a fiesta theme so they could have a piñata.

  After a few more minutes of planning, Elena checked her watch. “I have to get back.”

  “You’re leaving already?” James set his tray down. “I was hoping to hear about Dr. Hamilton.”

  “Not much to report.” Anabelle sighed. “He’s stable; but you saw him, James. He’s not taking this well at all.”

  “That poor man,” Elena said. “He’s spent all his life healing people, and now he’s on the other side. I think that would be especially hard.”

  “It’s just the heart attack.” Anabelle tossed her napkin on her tray. “I think he’s feeling guilty about going ahead with the surgery.”

  Elena nodded. “Of course he’d feel guilty. He’s a doctor and didn’t recognize the heart attack symptoms.”

  “Or refused to.” James took a bite of his hamburger leaving them all to puzzle over the ramifications of his statement.

  As Anabelle stepped off the elevator on the second floor, she almost collided with Genna.

  “Anabelle! I was hoping to run into you, though not literally.”

  Anabelle gave her friend a hug. “I was just coming back from lunch. Is something wrong?”

  Genna’s grin gave way to desperation. Her eyes closed as she heaved an exasperated sigh. “Oh-h-h. That man!”

  “I take it you’re referring to the good doctor.”

  “Good is not a word I would use to describe him at the moment.”

  “Is there something I can do?”

  “Talk some sense into him.” She pulled a tissue out of her bag to wipe the tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I know he isn’t upset with me. He’s angry with himself. Says he should have known what was happening but didn’t want to admit it. He’s upset that his stupidity, as he calls it, put a patient’s life at risk.”

  “Come on.” Anabelle led her friend to the waiting room and settled her into a chair with a cup of coffee.

  “Dr. Hildebrand said the patient came through surgery just fine, but Drew is worried. She reminded him they’d have to write up an incident report.” Genna held the cup with both hands. “Anabelle, what if they take away his license? Could that happen?”

  “Did he tell you it could?” A hollow ache formed in Anabelle’s stomach.

  “No. But if they find him negligent…”

  “That isn’t going to happen. Drew is one of the finest doctors around.” Anabelle patted her friend’s arm. “You stay here and finish your coffee; I’ll go in and speak with him.”

  When she reached Drew�
�s room, Anabelle tapped on the glass. He turned slightly, harrumphed with crossed arms and looked away.

  “Well, hello to you too.” Anabelle opened the door far enough to get into the room.

  “Did Genna send you to cheer me up?” Some of the color had come back to his cheeks, but he still had an unhealthy pallor.

  “No. She’s the one who needs cheering up. You need a swift kick in the you-know-what.”

  He chuckled and met her gaze. “Leave it to you to tell it like it is.”

  “I’m not about to pussyfoot around where you’re concerned. We’ve known each other far too long for that.”

  He sighed. “Okay. I won’t lie to you. I should have realized my symptoms were heart related.”

  “You are a doctor, yes, but you are not perfect. It’s normal for people to dismiss heart attack symptoms for heartburn.”

  “For some people, but not for me. I did think heart early on, but refused to admit it. That makes me negligent. It also makes me a fool. I should have known better.”

  “You need to stop beating yourself up and focus on getting well.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “I know this is hard on you. But try to go easy on the nurses and on Genna. This is scary for her too.”

  “You’re right as always.” His gray eyes met hers. “I will try to be on my best behavior.”

  “Good.”

  “Did Genna tell you that she and Dr. Hildebrand think I should take a month off?”

  “No, but I think that’s a good idea.” Anabelle smiled. “It would do you a world of good.”

  “I don’t think so. I have patients to tend to. There’s no way I could take a month off. Sitting around doing nothing would drive me nuts.”

  “I hear you, but you know what? You have at least a week before you have to make that decision. Right now, you need to think about healing that heart so you can make a decision.” Anabelle frowned. “We want you around so you can see all those patients who depend on you—now and in the future.”

  He nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”