Page 27 of Resuscitation
“Yep. But with a ton of lube. After some soap that will feel real cold.”
“Cold all over already.”
A little hypothermia wasn’t a terrible thing given his injuries, but Sara bet most of his feeling cold was due to shock rather than body temp. “After the Foley, I’m going to be removing the pressure dressing and trying to see where the bleeding is coming from and if the bullet nicked your intestine. So, I’m leaving for just a minute to scrub up, okay?”
He nodded, then squeezed his eyes shut as Kelly began prepping for the Foley. Sara was lucky she had a real ER nurse with her tonight. Kelly was moonlighting from her job at Potsdam to save money for her upcoming wedding. And Nick worked as an EMT before he got his physician assistant degree, so a little blood and guts didn’t bother him. Well, probably not as much as the men pointing guns at him.
She moved to the scrub sink, using a brush to remove the dried blood from when she’d assessed Connor in the SUV. Nick joined her, making a point of not looking at her and barely moving his lips as he whispered below the sound of the running water. “You know he’s not gonna make it.”
Sara gave a tiny nod.
“We can’t try to jump them, his guys will shoot the hostages.”
She shook her head and stomped on his foot. Of course they couldn’t try anything like that, they’d end up getting everyone killed. What did he think, this was a movie?
“So, what’re we gonna do?” He glanced at her, eyes wide.
“We’re going to do our jobs. Focus on our patient.” She hesitated, not wanting to tempt him into playing superhero. “And pay attention to everyone. Sooner or later, they’ll screw up.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because they wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t already.”
ChapterThirteen
Friday,February 13th, 8:49 P.M.
Blake pulledAlyssa across the front seat and carried her into the rear compartment. Thomas was already yanking his monitor leads off, struggling to get free of them so he could move off the gurney.
“Hang on,” Blake told Alyssa, setting her on the bench seat opposite the gurney.
He unbuckled Thomas, moved the IV to hang from a ceiling hook, then transferred Thomas to the bench as well, where Blake attached the oxygen tubing to a portable tank. He grabbed a few mylar emergency blankets and handed them to the old man to wrap himself in. With the front windshield blown out, the temperature was dropping fast inside the ambulance. They needed real shelter and medical facilities. But first he needed to stabilize both his patients.
“You okay, Thomas?”
“I’m fine, fine. Help Alyssa.”
It was tight quarters, but Blake picked Alyssa up and arranged her on the gurney, quickly got her on oxygen, removed her jacket, unbuttoned her shirt, and used his trauma shears to cut away her long-sleeved tee.
“Sorry,” he whispered, feeling like a voyeur as he positioned monitor leads around her sports bra. The entrance wound was just below her bra, so he was able to avoid that embarrassment, although he would not have hesitated to strip her naked if that was what it took to treat her.
He slapped a plastic-wrapped four-by-four over the entrance wound. She held it in place herself. There was minimal bleeding—not unusual with a GSW from a distance. Contrary to what TV and movies showed, most people didn’t gush blood from an entrance wound, not unless a large vein was hit. They also didn’t drop dead instantly. A fact that reminded him to stay calm, just breathe.
“Second rule,” she gasped, placing her free hand over his.
“Second rule of trauma,” he intoned. “Take your own pulse.” Meaning if he panicked, he’d be more likely to do more harm than good. “Let’s both just take it easy. Slow and steady. Breathe in, breathe out.”
She managed a weak smile, and they both took deep breaths. She winced as she exhaled, reminding him to get to work. He grabbed his stethoscope, listened to her breathing.
“Breath sounds still equal,” he told her.
“Trachea?” she asked, wincing again as she took another breath. Was it only pain, or was air beginning to accumulate, ready to collapse her lung with a pneumothorax?
“Midline. No JVD.”
She nodded. Sweat had broken out on her forehead and she was trembling. Shock.
“I’ll start an IV,” he told her.
