Page 54 of Keeping It Professional

I couldn’t see much of what she was doing, but I listened as she talked him through each step. She got it all out of order, our usual checklist, and I couldn’t tell if she did that because of something she saw, or the constraints of the tight space — or if she was too scared to remember the drill. She should know it by now. Like the back of her hand. Better than her lunch order or her own name. This, this was everything. This. Saving lives. Fear couldn’t?—

“Coming out.”

Sophie wriggled out backward. I heard fabric tear. She straightened up with her coat ripped, a careless mistake. Fear again, pushing her to move too fast. You didn’t rush on a scene. Rushing was death.

“His heart sounds are…” She shook her head. “I’m not sure. They don’t match with anything they played us in training.”

“Show me,” I said.

Sophie stared for a moment, like she didn’t understand. Then she puffed out her cheeks and blew a long, whooshy breath, pursing her lips so it wentwhew-whew.

“It’s sort of mushy. And his lungs. I heard fluid.”

I turned to the firefighters. “How fast can you get to him?”

“About forty-five minutes.”

“His pelvis is crushed. And his heart, I don’t think…” Sophie glanced at the driver and lowered her voice. “I don’t think he has that long before he chokes out.”

The firefighter frowned at her, then turned to me. “Anything you can do to buy him more time?”

I wanted to tell him there was, but there wasn’t. We couldn’t even be sure what was wrong, or the extent of the damage, or how to help.

“Oxygen,” said Sophie. “We could get him a tank.”

“Not with the saws running. One spark, and…pff.” I made aboomgesture with both my hands.

The firefighters waved us back out of the way. We stood there, useless, with nothing to do. Sophie still kept calling out to the driver, cheery updates on the firefighters’ progress. I wanted to scream at her, he couldn’t hear her. And if he could, he couldn’t care. All that man cared about was word of his kids, and no other comfort would mean a damn thing. But Sophie wasn’t shouting to comfort him. She was shouting, I realized, to comfort herself. That’s what she’dbeendoing the whole damn time, covering her panic with dripping compassion. She was like I had been, when I’d flamed out. Seeing her father sprawled in that wreck. Needing to save him, or her world would end.

“Doing great,” she called. “They’re cutting the roof now. Opening a path to you, and we’ll be right there.”

I flashed back to this morning, to when we’d arrived. Sophie hadn’t heard when the cop called her back. She’d kept right on walking till I grabbed her arm. Had she really not heard us, orhad our words not got through? If I hadn’t stopped her, would she have run inside? Into that flower shop all wreathed in flame?

“I know it’s loud, but keep breathing, okay? In and out, breathe, we’re almost there.”

When the patient had panicked, she’d missed the signs. She’d let him thrash all around and knee me in the face. She’d forgotten all she knew about safe restraint, and he’d chomped on her ear like a rabid dog. She’d need all kinds of tests now. A tetanus shot.

“That’s it, look at me. Don’t look at those sparks. Look at me, breathe…”

And then on the way back, her fast, jerky driving. I’d seen her drive a hundred times smoother than that. She’d lost her edge when she needed it most. Bumped and swerved all the way to the nearest ER.

“Almost there, doing good…”

I was spiraling now, tracing her spiral. And, had her driving been really that bad? The roads had been wet, gritty from snowmelt. The pipe through our patient had shuddered and thrummed. But it hadn’t shifted. It hadn’t done damage. If she’d hit a pothole, if she’d braked too hard?—

“We need you.” One of the firefighters stepped back from the wreck. They’d snipped the yellow car open like a can of sardines, and lifted away most of its body. The driver was gasping like a fish on dry land. With every breath, blood misted his lips and his chin. Sophie leaned over him.

“What can we do?”

“We’re ready to separate him from the wreck.” The firefighter bent down to take hold of his seat. “Our plan is, we’re going to liftup the dashboard, and at the same time, we’ll pull back his seat. We’ll lift him out through the back without moving his spine, or moving anything besides what we have to.”

“Then we’ll stabilize him.” My words came out hollow. We had no chance. I could see the damage now, and it was catastrophic. The dashboard was basically holding his organs in. The moment they moved it, his life would drain out. Maybe he saw some of that in the look on my face, because he groped out for Sophie. She took his hand.

“It’ll be quick,” she said. “We’ll be right here.”

He looked down at himself. “Wait. Wait, my kids…” He coughed, closed his eyes, and sucked a pained breath. “You gotta call someone. You gotta… Shannon and Andy. I need to know they’re okay before… Before…”

Sophie squeezed his hand. I turned away.

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