Page 17 of Fractured Reunion

CHAPTER FIVE

Aaron hovered in the PACU until Joey was discharged from the care of the anesthesiologist. Maggie remained at the boy’s bedside, doing an admirable job of staying out of the way.

He’d noticed how she’d kept an eye on the little boy’s vital signs, encouraging him to breathe if his oxygenation level dropped too low. She appeared stressed when he cried out in pain, and he knew she wanted nothing more than to help the child feel better.

It was tempting to head up to Joey’s room, but there was no good excuse for him to show up there. He’d done his part, getting Kyle involved so he could do the procedure, calling the police to check if they’d found any family for the child, and helping Maggie get settled in the hotel nearby. A hotel she wouldn’t use as he felt certain she’d spend the night in Joey’s room.

No, the only reason to head up to the seventh floor now was to see Maggie again. Talk about being a glutton for punishment. He should be over her by now, two years after their divorce.

He wasn’t.

His problem, not hers. He forced himself to head home, even though there was nothing remotely appealing about the empty house he’d purchased upon his return to Milwaukee.

Watching Maggie and Joey made him keenly aware of what he’d lost. He’d tried to move on, to find the family he’d always wanted, but he hadn’t met anyone like Maggie.

Pathetic the only woman he wanted was the one who’d left him.

The ringing of his phone dragged him from sleep, a dream in which he and Maggie had decided to get back together. Too bad it was only a dream. He rubbed his eyes, noting the time was three in the morning. The number on the screen was from Children’s Memorial. He wasn’t on call, but that didn’t always matter.

“This is Aaron Monroe,” he said in a voice husky with sleep.

“Dr. Monroe, I’m sorry to bother you, but we have a baby girl who’s been admitted with what I believe is a congenital heart defect.” The resident on the other end of the line sounded a bit nervous, as if he knew he was taking a risk in calling the chairman of the department in the middle of the night. “I’m calling you directly because the surgeon on call hadn’t answered his calls or pages.”

All sleepiness faded as Aaron digested that news. He already knew who was on call—Dr. Dale Fullerton—and this was not the first time the guy hadn’t responded to calls or pages.

“I can try again,” the resident said. “But someone needs to see this little girl ASAP.”

“Don’t bother with Fullerton, I’m on my way.” Aaron rolled off the bed. “I’m less than fifteen minutes out.”

“I…didn’t give you a name. How did you know the doc who didn’t respond was Fullerton?” the resident asked.

He winced, realizing he shouldn’t have filled in the name of the attending who was supposed to be on call. The guy’s inability to respond to his calls was Aaron’s problem to tackle as the chairman of the department. It wasn’t the resident’s concern. “What’s the name and room number of our patient?”

“Grace Baxter, she’s on six south,” the resident replied.

“Great. I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you.”

Aaron threw on casual clothes, brushed his teeth, then headed out the door. The home he’d purchased was close to the hospital, so he made it within the allotted timeframe. Using his ID badge to access the locked doors, he strode toward the elevators. He wondered how Maggie and Joey were doing, but there wasn’t time for a detour to the seventh floor.

He found Grace Baxter easily enough, and a quick assessment with the resident, Jamal Cook, confirmed the resident’s diagnosis that Grace was suffering from a patent foramen ovale, which was the formal term for having a hole between two chambers of the heart. What concerned him was the way the little girl was breathing too fast and the dusky blueish tint around her lips. He didn’t think this could wait until Monday; he’d prefer to operate right away to prevent complications.

He turned to Jamal. “I need you to call the OR to get a room set up for her ASAP. Good call on escalating this to the attending level.”

“I—thanks.” Jamal Cook flushed with gratitude, then hurried off to make the arrangements.

Aaron turned his attention to Grace’s mother who looked horrified by the news that her daughter needed surgery to correct a hole in her heart.

“I don’t understand,” the woman said, wringing her hands. “How did this happen?”

He needed to choose his words carefully. He didn’t want to throw another physician under the bus, but Grace was six months old, and he was convinced she was born with the cardiac condition. One that had been missed by her pediatrician and the hospital staff who’d tended to the baby after her birth. It wasn’t always easy to determine a patent foramen ovale, but the way the child’s symptoms were presenting, he suspected someone should have noticed.

“Babies can have heart conditions that are present at birth but that aren’t diagnosed right away. Babies pretty much eat and sleep, so there’s not as much stress on the heart until they get older. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he hastened to reassure the mother. “The hole in Grace’s heart should have closed on its own after her birth. But it didn’t. I know this sounds scary, but I want to assure you that I’ve done this procedure hundreds of times.”

The exhausted mother brushed away her tears. “If you say so, Doctor. I want Grace to feel better.”

“She’ll do very well after the procedure. I’ll need you to sign a surgical consent form,” he went on. “There are risks to every procedure, but we do everything possible to minimize those risks.”

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