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Austin nodded. His dad's skin was cool and clammy. Without a stethoscope, he could only imagine what his heart rate was doing.
“What's wrong,” he asked in a low tone. “Premature ventricular contractions? Ventricular tachycardia? What?”
“Nothing that dramatic,” she assured him. “If I had to guess I'd say he went into atrial fibrillation. Very common for patients after undergoing open heart surgery.”
He nodded, having recently read about that. The nurse came into the room, wheeling a portable monitor with her. He suspected his dad's abnormal heart rhythm had been picked up on the remote telemetry monitoring.
His father lay back on his pillow, his eyes closed, has usually ruddy skin pale.
“Mr. Monroe?” The nurse, Irene, leaned close. “Are you all right?”
“I don't feel so good.” He kept his eyes closed. “Dizzy.”
Austin was thankful they'd gotten him back to bed when they had. He worried his dad might be taking a trip back to the intensive care unit. He watched as Irene connected Abe to the portable monitor and then proceeded to check his blood pressure. Within seconds she was paging the doctor.
“Let's try some Metoprolol,” the doctor ordered when he came into the room a few minutes later. Austin recognized the guy as Dr. R. Gaines, his dad’s cardiothoracic surgeon. The doctor looked at Irene. “Did he get his scheduled beta blocker dose this morning?”
“No, the night shift nurse said his blood pressure was too low,” Irene explained. “I’ll give it to him right away.”
The way Dr. Gaines clenched his jaw told Austin his opinion of that, but the doctor didn't say anything more. Austin could understand the surgeon’s frustration. The article he’d read in the waiting room had described the importance of beta blockers post cardiac surgery and the problems some nurses caused by being too cautious and giving the medication.
Beta blocker medications were supposed to be held if the patient's blood pressure or pulse was too low. That was under normal circumstances. The article suggested that in post operative cardiac surgery patients, the nurse should wait an hour and check the vitals again after the patient had been up moving around. Otherwise holding back the dose for a lengthy period of time could result in irregular heart rhythms.
Like atrial fibrillation.
“Get the defibrillator ready in case this doesn't work,” Dr. Gaines said in an authoritative tone. “We may have to cardiovert.”
Not good. “I better call my mother,” Austin said, knowing she'd never forgive him if something happened, and she wasn't here.
“Hold off just a minute,” Lindsey suggested, placing her hand on his arm. He wanted to haul her close, to hug her and to lean on her for strength and support. “Let’s see if the medication works.”
He reluctantly nodded.
Sweat beaded on his dad's brow. He looked awful, as if his body definitely didn't like the irregular heart rhythm. After Irene had given his dad the medication, she’d brought in large red crash cart, a defibrillator sitting on top.
He tensed when he saw the crash cart. He knew enough to know the drawers were full of emergency medications and other equipment like breathing tubes that could be inserted back into his dad’s throat if he stopped breathing. It was concerning the nurse was preparing for a full blown cardiac arrest.
Please Lord Jesus, keep my dad safe in Your care!
He clung to Lindsey’s hand as he stared at the heart monitor watching the irregular beats of his dad's heart, praying the medication would help.
It didn't.
“Cardiovert with 50 joules,” Dr. Gaines ordered.
Lindsey tugged Austin out of the way.
“Charging.” Irene placed patches on his dad's chest, before returning back to the defibrillator. “All clear?” She waited a moment for everyone to step back from the bed before hitting the button.
His dad's body gave a little jump when she delivered the shock.
For an agonizing moment his father’s heart paused then return to its normal rhythm.
Austin breathed a sigh of relief, but his hands still shook.
That had been a close call. Clearly, his dad wasn't out of the woods yet.
Chapter Twelve
