Page 5 of I Still Love You

Speaking of the devil, Limrick pushes through with gloves on at the perfect time, his face and bald head flushed pink from overexertion. “I was with another patient. Got here as soon as I could. Give me updates, people!”

“One milligram of epinephrine. Point five of atropine. Flushing with saline to prepare for a second dose of epi.”

“Defib ready to go!” Susan informs, her shrill voice contained but sharp.

“Hand it over,” Limrick orders. Machines blink and beep around us, but we tune them out and treat our patient using the skill and knowledge we’ve gained from years of experience. “Let’s do it. What’s her name?”

“Alfreda,” I answer.

He nods. “Alfreda, we’re not losing you, but you have got to fight! Ready? Clear!”

Dr. Limrick shocks Alfreda’s chest, and her body convulses, her chest reaching for the ceiling and her head tipping back into the bed. A line darts up on the monitor, and hope blossoms before it’s ripped away by her falling vital line.

Come on, Alfreda!

“Again!” Limrick says. “Clear!”

The line darts skyward, then drops almost immediately. Defeat finagles its way into my mind, but I shoo it away while ignoring the adrenaline coursing through me. There’s no way in hell I’ll walk away from Alfreda’s side until we’ve done everything to bring her back to life, to bring her back to her husband.

Limrick’s voice is hopeful when he says, “Push that dose of epi!”

My fingers work fast, pushing the dose into the I.V. and raising her arm again. I narrow my eyes on the monitor while I hold my breath. All the while, I internally chant the mantra I always resort to whenever we’re about to lose a life.

Come back to us. Come back to us. Come back to us!

The thin hot pink heart rate line gallops. Not once, but three times, jumping like a horse over hurdles before falling. The blood pressure indicator stops flashing, and numbers appear. Her oxygen saturation and respiration follow the same pattern. Then, they disappear, and she’s back to flatlining again.

Dr. Boise yells, “Now, Limrick!”

“Clear!” Dr. Limrick steadies the paddles to her bare skin and sends a charge through her lifeless body. Her body convulses, and the numbers on the monitor increase at a steady rate. Her vitals slowly come back, and my held breath comes out in a hurry.

“Wait,” Dr. Boise says, holding out a hand. “Give it a minute.”

Our eyes remain glued to the monitor, watching to make sure there’s a steady, healthy rhythm until, finally, Alfreda is in the clear.

Dr. Limrick snaps his gloves off, blowing out his relief. “She’s critical, but I think we’re safe for the time being. Start a beta blocker to maintain rhythm. I want results from lab work and an EKG yesterday. Keep the defib machine close by in case Ms. Alfreda here decides to give us a run for our money and asystole again.” He pats Dr. Boise on the shoulder and nods at us. “Nice work, ladies.”

“It’s looking good, Layla.” Aubrey, my recruiter, promises, voice scratchy from smoking a pack of cigarettes a day for the last thirty years. The coughing fits he breaks out in from time to time are another indicator of his addiction to cancer sticks for one too many years.

“Really?” I pace the emergency room supply closet as anticipation sets in. With both hands on my phone, I pray his confidence somehow helps me secure my next traveling nurse gig.

“Tampa’s impressed by your resume. This position in Austin helps, too. You were smart to jump on it as fast as you did in January. Not all traveling nurses can say they’ve had gigs in major cities back-to-back.”

Tampa is a dream. I’ve wanted to go there since I opted to leave my permanent nursing job at Quaint Regional for a traveling position. It’s been a little over two years, and the time has finally come.

“How long will it take for you to send me a contract to sign?” I ask. Being a nurse in one of the busiest parts of the hospital has taught me to be patient over the years. I’m used to the up and go, having to think quickly, being on my feet for hours on end while managing a handful of patients at once, and waiting for test results that take longer than the allotted time.

It won’t kill me to wait to commit to Florida, but I’m looking forward to seeing Florida Contract in my incoming email folder.

“I’m still waiting on them to send it but shouldn’t be long. I’ll read it over, contact them if there are any discrepancies, and ping you when I’ve sent it to your email.”

I’m so excited that I don’t even tease him for his use of the word ping like I normally do. Aubrey was a nurse back in the day and is approaching retirement. He fails to stay up to date with new lingo and always refers to pinging as texting. Nonetheless, he knows what he’s doing, and my trust in him has only grown through the years.

I blow out a breath and root my feet next to the silver shelving unit that holds an array of supplies we use in the department. My hand wraps around the metal, the coolness of the steel reminding me of my twelve-hour shift and how I shouldn’t be this awake.

Crashing is imminent, but my adrenaline spiked when I saw I had a missed call from Aubrey. Since my contract with Lonestar Hospital is ending soon, getting my next position lined up is crucial, not only for my finances but for my resume if I want to keep up with traveling. Gaps aren’t necessarily a good look from a hospital’s perspective.

“Great! Thanks for keeping me updated and answering my call so late, Aubrey.”

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