Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Triage continued briefing us on the other victims.
“Munson’s on call and on the way.” Munson was the trauma surgeon, and he’d be required if we had to send anyone back to the OR. Doctor Griffin would take point on the most critical case until Munson arrived while I would assess the third patient, a female with a possible head injury among some probable broken bones but stable vital signs.
I’d worked in emergency departments for twenty years, and the concerted team effort as critical cases rolled in never ceased to amaze me. We might be short-staffed, but we knew our roles.
The ambulances arrived in a flurry of activity as the patients were transferred to our care amid reports from the paramedics and EMTs. I had the briefest interaction with Tate, an EMT friend, in the hall while awaiting the second ambulance.
“Motorcyclist was the fatality?” I asked in a low voice.
“No, that one’s yours.” Tate’s eyes narrowed. “Everyone is in rough shape, but miraculously, the rider was thrown clear of the worst of it.”
I had almost no time to digest that news before the second ambulance arrived. Eric was the lead paramedic on the call, and he relayed the vital information as the patient was wheeled in. As a dad, Eric was an inspiration both for the struggles he’d overcome and for his caring, involved style, but as a paramedic, Eric was a force of nature, impressive in a whole different way. I trusted that he and his crew had done everything they could to give this woman a fighting chance.
“Marissa Darcy, female, thirty-eight, license says The Dalles, no known prior conditions. Was wearing riding gloves, jacket, helmet. Helmet was removed at the scene prior to transport. Law enforcement is going to want toxicology, but she self-reports no substances or alcohol.”
“It was the truck.” The patient was indeed alert enough to look righteously pissed off from her position on a gurney, strapped to a backboard. “Stupid fucking speeding teenagers.”
“Stay calm, Marissa.” Eric patted her shoulder as we wheeled her into one of the trauma rooms, which was larger than a typical ER cubical. “We’re here to help.”
“The police will do the investigation fairly, I promise,” I added as I moved beside her gurney.
“They better.” She had wild, curly dark hair, banged-up pale skin with a pasty tinge I wasn’t crazy about, and piercing blue eyes that reminded me far too much of Declan’s. “You a doctor?”
And here we went. I was all Marissa had at the moment, and if she had a problem, she would have to deal, but I continued my gentle tone.
“I’m Jonas.” I crouched so she could see my face before I resumed assessing her condition. “I’m a nurse practitioner, and I’m going to help evaluate you.”
“Thank fuck. Midwife here.” Forehead creasing, she briefly shut her eyes. “Coming back from a birth, not a wild bar bender.”
Eric chuckled at that as he backed out of the room. His job was done, and mine was just beginning. We exchanged nods as he left. He’d gotten her this far, and it was up to me to keep her stable. While she was conscious, she was still a critical case, and I’d already noted a concerning lump on her temple, a possible broken leg, and more.
“Oh? How’d the birth go?” I needed to keep her talking. Her breathing was labored, undoubtedly from pain, but I had one eye on her vitals all the same.
“You planning a report?” Marissa narrowed her blue eyes.
“I was a homebirth myself, as were my siblings.” I didn’t go into detail beyond that, but I’d always respected the midwife profession. “Just curious.”
“Ah. In that case, it was a wonderful birth. Third baby, quick labor. Big sisters watching his arrival. Left the family with both grandmothers making midnight pancakes.” She paused to wince, a deep shudder. She was undoubtedly in a lot of pain. Eric had started an IV, but we were limited in what I could give her until more severe head or spine injuries had been ruled out. “I’m supposed to go back to the family in the morning. Stupid fluffing drivers.”
“Who can we call to cover for you?” I asked as we cut her ripped jeans off. At least the leg wasn’t a compound or open fracture, but I had no doubt the X-rays would show a break.
“My mother.” Marissa’s expression shifted to one of pride. “Already asked someone to call Mom. She’s on her way.”
“You’re a second-generation midwife?” I guessed. All this talking was a decent sign as far as head injuries went, and she was moving her hands and toes with good neurological signs. Her pupils were dilated from pain but otherwise fine.
“Third generation.” Marissa’s tone was proud, even as her speech was labored.
“Did the other two ride motorcycles too?” I asked as one of the nurses and I cut off her motorcycle jacket. Sucked to ruin something I knew was pricey, but I needed to examine her torso.