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“Surgery?” Her gaze wavered slightly as she shifted it from side to side.
“Yes, they will have to relieve the pressure.”
“Then what happens?”
“Then we wait to see how she is when she wakes up.”
“What do you mean, see how she is?”
“Charlotte, she could be completely fine. She’s young, she could heal completely, or she could have some level of difficulty with things. We won’t know what they are until we get to that point. We need to take this one step at a time. Okay? I need you to be strong and patient.”
“Strong and patient, two things I never do very well.”
I chuckled slightly, “I understand the patient part, but as for strong, you easily knocked me on my ass today.”
She winced, “I’m so sorry about that, and your face. Is it alright?”
I smiled down at her, “It will be fine.”
I glanced down the hall as a door opened and saw Cliff Michaels coming toward us. “I have to go so that we can get the test completed. You’ll need to stay right out here, and we’ll be out as soon as we can.”
She nodded and then grabbed my arm, “Doctor Young, take care of my baby for me.”
Normally, this would be where I would squeeze their shoulder, tell them that I would do everything that I could, but my hand didn’t land on her shoulder, it landed on her cheek, my thumb brushing the soft skin. “I’m going to do everything I can, Charlotte.”
I spun away from her and frowned. What made me touch her in such a personal manner? I never touched people anywhere but on the arm or shoulder. Occasionally, I would hug someone, but normally that was in a time of grief, or they were thanking me. Touching someone’s face, like I just did to Charlotte, was totally out of bounds as a doctor.
I had to think that it was because I felt a connection with her on a deeper level. Not that I liked her, I didn’t know her. But maybe because I had witnessed her daughter’s injury. I’d been there from the start, and I knew how seriously she could have been injured, and she’d been on my mind all afternoon. I took a couple steps away and then stopped and looked back.
“Charlotte, have you contacted Marisol’s father?”
She blinked and downcast her eyes for a moment before lifting her chin and facing me again, “He’s not in the picture.”
I nodded and met Cliff at the door. When we got inside, Marisol was being strapped into the machine. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have a seizure while we did the test. A few minutes later, both Cliff and I stood in the control room and watched the images fill the screen.
“Damn,” I muttered when I saw that I was right, and the bleed was worse than I had anticipated.
“Yeah, that’s not good.” Cliff picked up the phone and hit a couple buttons, “It’s Doctor Michaels, I need that OR stat, juvenile craniotomy to release pressure and fix a bleed.” He hung up a moment later and directed his attention to me, “You feel like scrubbing in? I could use a peds doc in there with me to keep an eye on the rest of her.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty quiet downstairs, I can scrub in.”
He nodded, “Okay, as soon as she’s done in there, send the scans up to the OR, and I’m going to head up and get ready. I want her under as soon as we can get her. Can you explain to the mother?”
“Yeah, I will.” Cliff turned and was gone, and I kept watching the scans. This wasn’t good. I sighed as I crossed my arms over my chest and kept staring. As soon as the scans were done, I was on my way to getting Marisol moving again. The orderly was still with us, and he helped me along with one of the nurses. We put her back in her gurney, attached her back to a few leads, and moved out with a new purpose in our steps.
When we hit the hallway, I glanced to the right to find Charlotte pacing, “Come with us.” I told her, and she rushed forward.
“What’s going on?”
“We have to get her straight up to surgery, Charlotte.”
Her face paled, “Her brain is bleeding?”
“Yes, and it’s a little worse than I thought it would be.” We were back on the elevator, and I watched the number climb from three to four. The minute the door was open, I turned and began to pull the bed out. Charlotte jumped out of the way moving to the side of the gurney and taking her daughter’s hand in the hallway.
We had to take a few hallways, and we did so quickly. I paused outside the operating room doors, “Charlotte, you’re going to have to wait here. There is a waiting room right down the hall.”
“I can’t leave her,” Charlotte said, clinging to her hand, and I reached out for her again.
