Page 104 of Coming Home

“Elle, call 911. Clayton, come with me,” she commanded, jumping out of the car. Turning to the still open door, she ordered, “Elle, tell the operator you have a doctor on scene, put them on speaker, and bring it to me.”.

Her training kicked in.Triage patients. She jogged first towards the motorcyclist The young man groaned, his eyes fluttering open. Pain creased his face as he sat up on the blacktop, a dazed look in his dark eyes. Scrapes, cuts, and blood ran down his bare arms. Flicking her eyes to Noah’s vehicle, she saw no movement nor flicker of noise. No call for help. No moanof aching pain. No “Baby, I’m okay.” All that filtered from his battered vehicle was the echoing horn.

Scarce resource protocol. Assess immediate versus nonimmediate care. From most likely to survive to…She wouldn’t allow herself to finish that lesson learned from her medical training. She needed to focus on the patient in front of her.You’re my warrior.Noah’s voice whispered in her ears, reminding her to follow her training.

“Clayton, do you have a first aid kit in the truck?”

“Yes,” he replied, his hoarse voice shaking.

“Grab it and bring it to me, then go check on Noah. Let me stabilize the motorcyclist,” she ordered.

“On it,” he said, running back to the truck.

“I’m Dr. Nat, I’m here to help. What’s your name?” She knelt beside the man. Well, not a man. He seemed to hover between kid and manhood. Perhaps, seventeen…maybe eighteen.

“Doug,” he said, his eyes blinking.

“Doug, can you tell me what hurts?”

“My head.” He squinted, his hands pressing against his battered head.

“I see your helmet isn’t on. Were you wearing it when you crashed?”

“Off…I to…to…took it off,” he stuttered.

“Before or after you crashed?”

A furrow creased his bloody forehead. “After?” It came out more like a question than an answer.

Probable head injury or concussion, she thought, mentally flipping to head injury protocol from her ER rotation. It had been two years since she’d dealt with emergency medicine, but, like riding a bike, it was coming back to her.

“Here,” Clayton rasped as he handed her the kit.

Nodding, she took it, listening to Clayton’s swift feet sprint toward Noah. “I’m going to examine you. Is that okay?”

Nat opened the kit.Thank the Goddess!There were gloves, antiseptic cream, alcohol wipes, burn cream, bandages, ace bandages, ice pack, scissors, and tape. Dad had drilled this into all three of his children to have fully stocked first aid kids in their cars. Although, she wished she had hers from her Jeep, which had even more supplies.

Yanking on a pair of gloves, she started her examination. Groans escaped Doug as she touched him.

“I know it hurts, but I have to examine you to help you. Tell me what you feel as I touch,” she assured.

Surveying Doug’s body, she noted scrapes, cuts, and a bad case of road rash down his back. Nothing appeared to be broken, and his reflexes were intact. The teenager was sitting up, which helped her rule out a possible spinal injury, but Nat kept him seated until the ambulance could arrive, just to be on the safe side.

“Nat!” Clayton cried. “He won’t wake up!”

Her heart screamed to run to Noah, but she knew she had to take care of the alert patient first. Move from less critical to most critical in situations like this. Nat’s training steadied her shaking hands.

“Check his pulse!” Nat shouted in a steady voice.

A moment later, Clayton yelled. “It’s there…It’s steady.”

Thank the goddess.She let out a heavy breath. “Keep talking to him. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Her voice carried no hint of the fear rioting within her.

My brave girl.Noah’s words bolstered her.

She focused on Doug, locating the cut in his hairline, and began cleaning it with an alcohol wipe. He winced.

“I know.” She bit her lip as she cleaned the wound. He’d need stitches, but she couldn’t do that now, even if she’d had the full kit she kept in her car. She grabbed the cotton balls to place overthe wound to tape and slow the bleeding until the paramedics arrived.

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