Page 26 of The Golden Hour

“Confidence in your abilities,” Mason says, before adding. “And confidence in your leadership.”

Dr. Lowell smiles genuinely.

“I’m glad to be working under you.”

Mason gives him a smile, feeling his back straighten even more and his chin lift.

Through his veins, the confidence he was speaking about spreads and settles. It’s moments like that where it all feels worth it—the chaos, the panic, the stress. For that one single feeling of euphoria. He would do anything to keep feeling it.

“Give me an MVC or a stroke,” Mason mutters, looking back at the board. “Give me something life and death—ah, there we go. Potential placental abruption inbound.”

He turns to Nurse Paula at the front desk, “Paula, can you call up to OB and have them ready?”

“You got it,” she nods, grabbing the phone to call.

Dr. Mortimer is golfing today, because of course he is, but they should have Dr. Farah, the senior OB resident, somewhere in the building.

Mason grabs gloves and a gown as he heads toward the ambulance bay. Lowell follows, almost clipping the heel of Mason’s shoes in his excited urgency as they step outside.

It’s hot today. The summers in Pennsylvania feel as though they’re only getting more and more brutal, and Mason already feels the sweat drip down his back.

“You ever do an abruption?” Mason asks as he pulls the gown on and ties it.

Lowell shakes his head, practically bouncing on his toes. “No. Not yet.”

The sirens are coming closer.

“Listen fast,” Mason says, his teacher's voice cutting cleanly through the noise outside. “Placental abruption means the placenta is pulling away from the uterus before the baby is out. Sometimes it’s small. Sometimes it’s bad. Either way, it can turn ugly fast.”

“Ugly how?”

“Mom can bleed out on the table. Baby can lose oxygen. Everything can go from calm to fucked in about thirty seconds,” Mason pulls on his gloves and snaps the cuff against his wrist. A grounding type of sting. “So we don’t waste time. Every second counts.”

“Every second,” Lowell nods, an excited grin growing on his face.

Mason doesn’t know why that sight is twisting his gut.

“What’s first with pregnant patients?” Mason asks.

“Mom first,” Lowell answers instantly. “If mom dies, baby dies.”

“Exactly. You save the mother, you give the baby the best chance.” Mason looks toward the ambulance doors as the sirens come closer. “We get vitals, IV access, blood ready, fetal heart tones, and OB in the room. If the baby looks bad or mom looks bad, we’re moving.”

“Are we going to do a C-section?”

“Maybe,” Mason says. “Depends on how bad it is when she gets here.”

The sirens are screaming now as the ambulance pulls into the bay.

Mason turns to Lowell and smiles, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Showtime.”

The back doors open, and Mason moves automatically as the EMTs start reporting.

“Female, twenty-nine, placental abrup⁠⁠—”

He stops.