Page 68 of Paging Dr. Breakup
She frowned at the low lights but lowered them even further. “Sure.”
Dr. Tipton stepped into the room. “Knock, knock. How are you feeling?” Her thoughtful expression encompassed both Deirdre and Calvin and the dim light.
“Frankly? Confused and fuzzy. Head hurts like a beast. Chunks of my memory seem to be missing.” Once again, he reached for Deirdre’s hand. “What’s the prognosis?”
“So, radiologist says this is a subdural hematoma.”
“Well, that’s better than epidural hematoma.”
“True. You want to see the scan?” Dr. Tipton turned toward the computer screen.
“No. The light bothers me, and I don’t think that I can focus. Or that I should try to,” he said.
“That’s reasonable.” She paused, concern drawing her light brows together. “So. You probably know the drill. I spoke with the neurologist in Fairbanks.”
“Is it big enough that they need to do a burr hole?” he said. “Like I need a hole in my head, huh?” How could he joke at a time like this?
Deirdre squeezed his hand.
Dr. Tipton gave a brief chuckle. “If you needed to have pressure relieved emergently, the chopper would already be en route to fly you out.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “And before you ask, no, I won’t do it myself. Unlike you fancy ED doctor-types, this family doc doesn’t want to do major surgery at the bedside.”
“Admit it. For a second, you thought about it.”
The secret smile she gave sent a shiver down Deirdre’s spine.
“Fairbanks was prepared to walk me through it.” Oh God, she was serious.
Deirdre spoke up. “Okay, you cowboys. No more discussion of brain surgery in Yukon Valley. Please. You two are a little scary in how much you seem to like this stuff.”
“Inappropriate humor makes hard things better,” he said.
“The fact that you can make jokes is reassuring,” Dr. Tipton said. “We need to watch you overnight. Neuro checks every hour.”
He nodded and glanced at Deirdre, explaining. “This could be my lucid interval. With epidurals the window of clarity is generally four hours. With subdural hematomas, there’s no upper limit to the time when the subdural could suddenly expand.” He explained it like he was teaching a medical student. Clinical. Objective.
Deirdre processed the information. She couldn’t breathe.
He was saying that he could quickly get worse and lose brain function or die. That was no joke. “Shouldn’t you be in Fairbanks, then? Closer to the specialist?”
“Neuro didn’t think so, though I’m happy to push for transfer if you want,” Dr. Tipton said. “They felt that the subdural was small. The chance of progression is low, and weather looks good if you have to fly in the next few days. We have good options available right now. In the meantime, we’ll rescan in twelve hours. If the neuro exam changes or the subdural grows, then you’ll get that complimentary trip to Fairbanks.”
Calvin nodded, with a wince. “Good.”
Deirdre unwrapped her fingers tightly clutched around his.
Dr. Tipton continued, “As for the hypothermia, you seem to be doing much better with the warmed fluids and the heated-air blanket. We’ll continue with telemetry monitoring overnight, but the chance of an arrythmia is low at this point.”
Calvin smiled. “Much appreciation for your choice of monitoring my temperature, by the way.”
The doctor actually giggled. “True. If you hadn’t regained consciousness or telemetry showed abnormal rhythms, you know which core temperature probe I’d be using.”
“Yowch.” Calvin’s eyebrows shot up, then he gave an exaggerated wince.
Dr. Tipton glanced back behind her at low voices coming from the work area. “Law enforcement wants to talk with you at some point. I’ll need to provide them my medical findings.”
“Share any information they need. I can give my statement now.” His gray eyes met Deirdre’s for a second. “That way, if my condition changes, they have the necessary information.”
Despite the warmth in the room, a chill walked bony fingers down Deirdre’s spine.
