“Can I help you?” a nurse asked him as he wandered the halls. For being a Saturday night, it wasn’t very busy.
“Yes, I’m looking for Dr. Smith.”
Before the nurse could say anything, one of the men who’d interviewed him came into view.
“Dr. Atwal. Welcome, to your first day, or should I say night?”
“Thanks, Dr. Smith.” They turned and the older man introduced Patch to some nurses around the station discussing patients.
“This is Dr. Atwal, he’s our new trauma doctor, and tonight’s his first night. I’m going to give him the three minute tour, then he’s in charge. I want to see what he’s made of. Oh, he was a medic in Afghanistan for the last three years.”
“So you can handle just about anything?” One of the nurses asked.
“Pretty much. Don’t know if we’ll get any IED explosions, or suicide bombers, but I should be able to handle things,” Patch said, and was surprised when everyone stared at him in shock. “Sorry.” He couldn’t do more than shrug at their expressions. It had been his way of life for over three years. He’d never pussyfooted around anything in the past, and he wasn’t about to start now.
“How long ago did you serve?” one of the nurses asked, and she actually batted her long eyelashes at him.
“I’ve only been a civilian for thirty-nine days. So, I’m fresh from the desert.”
“Thank you for serving,” several nurses and doctors said, and held out their hands to shake his. They were interrupted when the ER doors opened and a man came running in, screaming at the top of his lungs that he needed a doctor. It turned out his wife was in labor, and they were able to calm him down, and Patch was the one to deliver the baby. He held it up and announced, “It’s a boy.” When someone from labor and delivery came running into the room, he looked over at the woman and grinned. “You’re late.”
“Looks like it.” She smiled and came over and took over for him.
And so his night began in the ER. Hours later, Patch was at the nurses’ station filling out a report, when he heard a squawk from somewhere around the nurses’ station. “Helena Mercy, this is medivac five seven niner, fifteen minutes out, one trauma, one ambulatory.”
Patch watched as the nurse answered them, as he grabbed paper and pencil, and the mike from her. “Medivac five seven niner, this is Helena Mercy, stats on trauma?” Suddenly Patch was in the zone. He’d done this before, many, many times before. He wrote down the information, and when he was done, he looked up and saw everyone staring at him.
“What?” He frowned.
“I take it that wasn’t your first interaction with a medivac unit?” Dr. Smith asked.
“No. Now they’re ten minutes out. Let’s get set up.” He strode to an empty trauma bay and threw back the curtain. “Okay, people, we’re going to need heated blankets, and warm saline. I want a portable x-ray machine here stat. Also get Ortho, Cardio, and Plastics down here now.” He looked behind him and saw no one moved.“NOW!”he barked out, and everyone jumped to do his bidding.
“Where’s the elevator for the helio pad?”
“This way,” Dr. Smith said, and they took off running with a gurney. As they went by, Patch picked up a wheelchair, folded it and tossed it on the bed. “What’s that for?”
“If the second victim only has a broken ankle, he doesn’t need a bed to get down here.”
“Good thinking,” the other doctor said, and rushed to the elevator. By the time they reached the roof, the helicopter was landing. They rushed out and arrived at the door just as it opened and two EMTs jumped out. Between them and the doctors, they lifted the basket from the helicopter’s gurney and transfer it to Patch’s. He set the wheelchair down and one EMT ran with them while the other helped the other patient from the helicopter. Patch never bothered looking to see what was wrong with the second patient. He figured because they were ambulatory, then they were fine. He was a trauma doctor and had a trauma to work on. That was his number one priority.
Downstairs in the trauma unit, everyone transferred the woman out of the basket and onto the gurney. Patch actually grunted at the weight. He never expected by looking at the patient that they would have been that heavy. “Vitals!” he barked out, and he along with several nurses began unwrapping the patient, when suddenly there came an ungodly scream, and people jumped back from the patient.
Patch reached for his sidearm, but realized he didn’t have one. He took in everything in one glance, then burst out laughing. Everyone looked at him like he’d lost his mind. He whipped off his glove and held out his hand. “Hey, I know you,” he laughed at the dog, and when his hand was licked, he rubbed him down. “Major, hey boy. Where’s your Daddy?”
“Here.” He looked up and saw Finnegan Larson being wheeled into the bay by the other EMT.
“You found her?” Patch tried to hear the answer, but everyone was talking and he couldn’t hear anything. He put his fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.“QUIET!”He held up his hands and looked at his watch and pointed to Finn. “Rundown, two minutes. Go.”
Finn didn’t hesitate. It shocked, as well as relieved him to see his best friend in the hospital trauma room. “Twenty-six year old female. Tumbled down a ravine. Left side, lacerations on forearm. Right side, lacerations on head, and outer right thigh. Enclosed collar bone fracture, messed-up shoulder, don’t know if broken or not. Right forearm broken. Hips, knees and ankles clear and intact. Right tib/fib compound fracture. All blood coagulated. When I found her, her temp was eighty, pulse was forty. Dressed what I could in the field, however, I did not, repeat, not, clean out the wounds, only covered them. From what I could tell, her lower extremities were lying in cold running water for over twenty-four hours.” He paused for breath and saw everyone’s shock at his assessment.
“Holy fuck, and she’s still alive?” Patch asked, as he watched as the nurses began peeling her blankets off.
“Patch, you’re going to want an ultrasound of her heart.”
“Why?” a doctor demanded as he rushed forward.
“Looks like she was kicked in upper right pec by a horse.”