Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
The ambulance comes to a stop, lights and sirens still blaring, and Tommy and Doug dive into action, opening the doors and quickly wheeling Clay out of the back. I follow their lead, inside the emergency room doors of Addison County Medical Center, and have to run to keep up with their pace as they charge down the hall.
A doctor and three nurses don’t hesitate to join them and assist Tommy and Doug as they wheel Clay through automatic doors and into an area that has Trauma Bay 1 written on a sign on the wall.
A nurse with red hair tosses on gloves and takes over holding pressure to Clay’s wound while Tommy rattles off an update. “Clay Harris. Thirty-year-old male in an MVA. Large shard of glass went into the upper left side of his abdomen. Per the female with him, he pulled it out and immediately started losing a lot of blood. He’s bradycardic.”
“Were you with him?” the doctor asks me as he puts a stethoscope to Clay’s chest.
“Yes.”
“How bad was the accident?”
“I don’t know…I don’t know… The airbags went off, and the windshield is gone. But I don’t know anything else. I’m sorry. I—”
“It’s okay, honey,” a nurse with brown hair and a soft expression on her face says as she comes over to me and encourages me to sit down. She grabs a blanket and wraps it around my shoulders. “Your boyfriend is in good hands.”
“He’s my husband.”
“We’re going to take good care of your husband, okay?” She offers a sympathetic smile. “How are you feeling?” she asks, but I can’t focus on her because I swear I hear the doctor talk about surgery.
“Get us additional IV access and start blood transfusions stat. Don’t bother with type and screen, just give him O neg,” the doctor instructs the nurse with red hair as he carefully inspects Clay’s wound. “And go ahead and call the OR and anesthesia now. We need to get him back as soon as possible.”
The nurse makes quick work of sticking Clay and sliding a new IV into his other arm. And I’m just standing in the room, watching everyone hustle around, shock and fear and every horrible emotion rolling through my body while my mind tries to understand what is happening.
“He needs surgery?” I ask, but when his heart rate monitor starts beeping wildly and the number twenty-eight flashes on the screen, the room turns into complete chaos.
“Give a dose of atropine now!” the doctor shouts. “And let them know we’re coming back!”
A nurse hangs a bag of what looks like blood into Clay’s new IV and the doctor, two nurses, Doug, and Tommy start to wheel Clay’s bed out of the trauma bay area. Immediately, I jump to my feet.
“Where are you taking him? What’s going on?”
“I’ll stay with his wife,” the nurse who gave me the blanket says and places two strong hands on my shoulders. “Honey, they are taking your husband back for emergency surgery so they can stop the bleeding.”
“Is he going to be okay?” My knees buckle, and I have to reach out to use the wall to hold myself up. “Tell me he’s going to be okay.”
She tries to get me to sit down again, but my body outright refuses as I watch the medical team wheel Clay through doors that have the letters OR written above them.
“I know this is scary, but they are going to do everything they can, honey. They are giving him blood transfusions, and Dr. Sarens is going to fix his wound.”
“I don’t want him to be alone.” I can’t let him be alone like Grandma Rose. “I need to be with him!” I try to run toward them, but the nurse wraps me up in a bear hug.
“I know you want to be there for him, but I need you to be strong. I need you to stay here and let me take a look at you and make sure you’re okay. That’s what I need, and that’s what your husband needs, okay?”
Deep sobs escape my lungs, and I just kind of bury my face into her shoulder. I don’t want him to be alone. He shouldn’t be alone. Grandma Rose was alone.
“It’s going to be okay,” the nurse says and rubs a gentle hand down my back. I sob and hug her as tightly as I can. It feels like she’s the only reason I’m still standing.
“How about we sit down on this bed right here?” she coaxes as she gently guides us toward an available bed in the trauma bay area. “That way, I can see how you’re doing.”
But when I step back from her, her concerned gaze latches on to something on my legs. “Oh, honey,” she whispers, and I follow her eyes’ lead to the crimson-red blood staining my cream wool pants.