Page 2 of Under Southern Stars
“By the way,” Jen adds as she pulls up the patient list, “that paramedic’s been asking about you. The one with the accent? Wanted to know if you were working today.”
I keep my expression neutral. “Jack asks about everyone’s schedule. He likes to know who’s on for trauma alerts.”
“Mmhmm.Surehe does. That’s why he only asked about you, specifically.”
My face heats. “Can we just do report?”
Jen grins and launches into her rundown. Kidney stone in room 8. Chest pain in 15; probably anxiety but awaiting troponins. Drunk in 22 sleeping it off. As she talks, I scan the staffing sheet again. Nathan in trauma. Tasha in fast track—better to keep her with the minor stuff until she learns to control that mouth. God knows I don’t need her telling some frequent flyer what she really thinks.
I fiddle with my stethoscope, a $5 disposable special crammed in the pocket of my scrubs. It isn’t as nice as the $150 Littmann I’d bought myself as a present for successfully graduating from nursing school, but that one had been stolen after I set it down momentarily and one of the residents apparently decided no nurse would have a stethoscope that nice. Its $50 replacement had been destroyed when a psych patient boarding in the emergency department attempted to strangle me with it. So now, I make do with the el-cheapo model.
“…and that’s it. Nine total. It’s been dead since about three.”
“Jen,” I hiss. “What did I just say about—”
The radio crackles to life. “Medic 220 to Metro General, priority one traffic.”
Jen grins sheepishly. “My bad.”
I grab the radio. “Go ahead, 220.”
“Metro, we’ve got a cardiac arrest inbound. Sixty-year-old male, witnessed collapse at home, CPR in progress, multiple shocks delivered. We have not achieved ROSC. Patient is intubated, 7.5 ETT, secured at 23 at the lip. Last rhythm check showed fine V-fib. Two rounds of epi given. ETA four minutes.”
After I take the EMS report, I start to scan the assignment board, but Nathan appears from nowhere, already gloving up. “On it, boss.”
I check the board quickly. Nathan and Priya in trauma; solid team. Carlos and Derek covering acute care. Tasha in fast track. Jan, not due in until eight for triage, which means I’ll have to cover until then.
Tasha slouches past, heading for the break room. “Great. Just when I was hoping for an easy—”
“Don’t,” Nathan and I say in unison.
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You people and your superstitions.”
The ambulance phone rings again. I sigh internally and grab it, knowing it’s already bad news.
“Metro?” Jack’s voice, professional now. “Heads up. MVA coming your way. Three vehicles, multiple patients. We’re staging for additional units.”
Of course. The ER gods don’t do anything by halves.
“Copy that. How many are we looking at?”
“At least six, maybe more. Going to be a busy morning after all.”
In the background, I hear sirens. Multiple units. The quiet morning is officially over.
“Tasha!” I call out. “Fast track’s about to become trauma overflow. Set up rooms twelve through fifteen.”
She pokes her head out of the break room, mouth full of what looks like someone’s leftover birthday cake. “Seriously? I just—”
“Now, Tasha.”
I grab the desk phone and page overhead. “Dr. Chen, Dr. Lee to the charge desk please. Dr. Chen, Dr. Lee to the charge desk.”
Melissa arrives first, coffee in hand. “What’s up, Sophia?”
“Just to add to our morning, the arrest is being followed by a multi-vehicle accident, at least six patients. Unknown acuity. ETA about seven minutes.”
“Fantastic,” she mutters, then louder: “I’ll take bay one with Nathan.”
