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"Preparing for NIV. Respiratory therapy is setting up the machine," she responds, her hands already reaching for the necessary supplies.
"Has the blood pressure responded to fluids?"
"Not significantly, still hovering around 80/50. We're pushing fluids, but he might need vasopressors soon."
"Notify the OR. We might need to escalate this to a thoracotomy if the chest tube doesn't relieve the pressure," I instruct, my focus entirely on the patient before me.
The metallic smell of blood fills my nostrils as I insert the chest tube into the patient's side, my hands shaking slightly despite my best efforts to steady them. "Prepare to reassess the patient's vitals," I instruct, feeling an urgency rise within me.
"Blood pressure is stabilizing after chest tube insertion. Oxygen saturation is improving," the nurse reports, her eyes locked onto the monitors. There's no time for relief; we need to move fast.
"Good. Keep a close eye on him. Let's get him to the OR for a more thorough evaluation and to rule out any surgical causes."
The nurse nods, her face focused and determined. "OR team is on standby. I'll arrange for transportation."
"Good," I reply before leaving the triage room, peeling off my rubber gloves coated in the patient's blood as I go.
The moment I step out, my heart pounds in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I run into Rachel Harding, the only friend I seem to have in this godforsaken place. She's taking over for the next shift.
"Rough night?" she asks, genuine concern etched on her face.
"Full moon," I answer with a sigh, feeling the weight of the past twelve hours bearing down on me. Rachel nods her head in understanding, and I give her a rundown of the last patient I saw before we part ways. I'd much rather just go home and collapse into bed, but I'm not the sort of doctor who leaves charts incomplete. That's not who I am.
As I walk toward my station to update the patient's information, my mind races with thoughts about the man whose life I just held in my hands. Something still isn't right. I thought the last patient showing up was it, but I still feel on edge.
I huff out a big breath and try and shake the feeling from my shoulders. The sooner I finish, the sooner I can leave this place for the night.
My fingers flow against the keys, recording the details of the patient's condition and treatment. I finally finish and push back from the computer, thoroughly exhausted.
I don't say goodbye to anyone as I walk out to my car. Not that anyone bothers to say anything to me, either. I take a look at my phone and see a text from my sister, Isabella. Her and Primo have a brand new baby boy and I know she's adjusting to mom life.
Sorry for the delayed response! Just been so exhausted, but Primo is taking over for the night so I can get some sleep. Hope your shift is going well!
I smile as I look at the message, glad that she's managed to carve out a slice of happiness for herself.
The light in the hospital parking lot casts eerie shadows as I make my way to my car. I can feel the weight of exhaustion dragging me down, and my body aches from the relentless pace of a twelve-hour shift. My mind is buzzing with images of bloodand pain, but there's also an undercurrent of satisfaction; I did my best to save lives tonight.
As I slide into the driver's seat of my Lexus sedan, the cool leather against my skin offers a momentary reprieve from the chaos that surrounds me. Leaning back, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling the tension slowly seeping out of my tired muscles. The thought of driving home in this state is daunting, and I briefly contemplate resting in my car for a few minutes before attempting the journey.
As if on cue, my phone rings abruptly. My heart clenches as I groggily look at the screen, seeing Teddy's name displayed there. The brother-in-law I never expected, and a constant reminder of the tangled web of family and crime I've somehow found myself caught up in.
"Teddy, what's wrong?" I ask, my voice cracking with concern as I answer the call. He sounds frantic, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"It's my brother," he says, desperation coloring his voice. "He's been shot. He's unconscious."
I furrow my brow. I didn't realize that Giovanni was back from Miami. I don't hesitate, my medical training taking over despite the exhaustion that threatens to consume me. "Teddy, are you in a safe place? Is the scene secure?"
"Yes," he replies, his voice trembling.
"Good. I need you to check if he's breathing. Can you do that for me?" My mind races, cataloging potential injuries and complications even as worry gnaws at me. This isn't just another patient; this is family.
A strange mix of fear and excitement courses through me as I wait for Teddy's response. My life has gone so sideways that sometimes, the chaos is almost starting to feel comforting.
Teddy's voice is tense as he replies, "Yeah, he's breathing, but it's shallow." The urgency in his tone sends shivers down my spine.
"Okay," I say, trying to keep my own voice steady, "I need you to apply pressure to the wound with a clean cloth or bandage if you have it. Make sure not to move him too much. Is there anyone else there who can help you?"
"No, it's just us," Teddy admits, and I can hear the strain of the situation weighing on him. "I've gotten him into the car and we're driving back to the mansion."
