Page 4 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

“Her pressure is coming down,” Dr. Coleman announced. “One sixty-two over eighty-eight.”

I kept my eyes on the vessel. “Let me know when systolic is under one-forty.”

“Understood.”

One beep. Then another. The room settled around my silence.

“One fifty-four.”

I adjusted my grip without disturbing the instrument’s position.

“One forty-six.”

Dr. Mason’s breathing slowed beside me.

“One thirty-eight over eighty-two,” Dr. Coleman said. “Heart rate is normalizing.”

“Good.”

The alarm stopped.

I allowed another ten seconds to pass before examining the tissue surrounding the aneurysm again. The field remained clean. There was no bleeding or swelling. Nothing had changed except the numbers and the amount of faith the people in that room had placed in my judgment.

“Let’s continue.”

The tension dissolved into movement.

“Suction.”

The instrument touched my palm.

I returned my attention to the aneurysm and separated the last thin band of tissue from its neck. The vessel pulsed faintly beneath the magnification, each beat carrying blood close enough to my fingers that its awareness became physical.

“Permanent clip.”

I opened the titanium clip and guided it into position and the room disappeared. It was only me, the vessel, the angle of the clip, and the narrow margin between success and devastation. I released it. The blades closed across the neck of the aneurysm.

“Temporary clip off.”

Blood flowed through the parent artery again. The clipped aneurysm remained pale and still.

“Doppler.”

Dr. Mason placed the probe in my hand, and I checked the vessel above and below the clip. There was strong blood flow. I moved to the branching artery.

“The aneurysm is excluded,” I said. “The flow is intact.”

Relief moved through the room in a collective exhale.

“Nicely done,” Dr. Mason murmured.

I withdrew my hands from the field. “Let’s close.”

The hardest part was over, but I didn’t allow myself to relax. A successful clip meant nothing if we became careless during closure. Lorraine still needed to wake up, follow commands, recognize her husband, and squeeze my fingers with both hands before I considered the surgery a victory.

For the next forty minutes, we worked through the final steps. I inspected the field twice, replaced the bone flap, and watched as each layer was closed.

Only after the final dressing had been secured did I step away from the table.