Page 4 of Beneath Her Hands
When she was young, she dreamed of traveling the world, but as the oldest with four brothers and three sisters, her family needed her here more. She pretty much fully supported her parents now as they aged, since with eight children the option of saving for retirement had always been non-existent. They both worked multiple blue-collar jobs all their lives and still they had done their best to support all their children, whom had all gone in different directions, though only the youngest had managed to escape the small city. Her baby sister was only in college, so there was still a likelihood that she would be sucked back here as soon as she graduated. Still, there was that slight feeling of regret that Jane had never really had the chance to get out and explore. She’d seen the doctors traveling overseas and wished she’d been able to go along, but just figuring out how to get through medical school had taken all she had, and even now she still owed student loans, despite having been a practicing doctor for almost fifteen years.
She would travel one day, of that she was sure, but it probably wouldn’t be until she retired. A notification popped up on her screen, the boy’s lab results. It was exactly whatshe expected, a run-of-the-mill stomach virus. She wrote a prescription for some nausea medication and discharge orders for plenty of rest and fluids and headed back to his room.
By the time she was finished in there, the X-rays were ready for the others, and one more person had come in with what looked like a dislocated shoulder. She called for an orthopedic consult for the shoulder after getting an MRI, but it was fairly simple to handle. She kept herself busy, pushing out any intrusive thoughts of Dr. Maxwell or her exotic life. Eventually, she began to wonder what had happened to her. Jane figured that she would be down here by now, anxiously waiting for her first trauma to show up in the ER, waiting to get behind the knife. It seemed that trauma surgeons thrived on the drama, at least all the ones she had encountered, and with Rosalind coming from her military background, Jane figured she’d be chomping at the bit.
The radio behind the nurse’s station blared to life, and the announcement sent her blood racing; looked like Rosalind was going to get her chance. Accident victims were being brought in from the interstate, multiple cars involved. Two of them from what she could gather, and at least one of them was in pretty bad shape. Jane grabbed her phone, but she realized that she didn’t have a pager number for Rosalind yet, so she paged Dr. Mars instead. She also paged Sandra; she hated to interrupt her nap, but Jane was going to need her staff for this one. As she grabbed a gown to meet the ambulance at the door, she heard the radio crackle again, looks like they were getting at least two more. Where the hell was Maxwell?
Sandra came up behind the counter, looking bleary-eyed, but the nap seemed to have done some good. Doctor Mars came into the room behind her, her face tight with concern.
“Where’s the new doc?” Jane asked as she pulled on her gloves.
“On the way, don’t worry,” Doctor Mars said and began directing the staff to prepare the rooms.
“This one sounds bad,” Jane said. “There’s at least four coming in.”
Doctor Mars’ lips pressed into a thin line and she nodded, she immediately started tapping on her phone, and Jane assumed it was to get more staff into the ER to handle it. Accidents like this were rare, but they did happen with the interstate only a few miles away. Finally, Dr. Maxwell strode into the room, her head held high as though she’d been doing this for years. Well, maybe she had, but not like this, not here. This was Jane’s house, and she wasn’t about to let some war doctor come in and take it from her. She shook her head wondering where that thought came from.
Rosalind grabbed a gown and gloves before turning to Jane. “Report,” she said, though it sounded more like a command than a request. Jane chastised herself for getting annoyed at it, this was one case where decorum would only get in the way. Jane recited the details she’d been given, at least two were in bad shape, the other two seemed stable but the extent of their injuries were unknown.
“How far out?” Rosalind asked, though again it sounded more like an order.
“About three minutes,” Jane answered. The two women locked eyes, and Jane felt a surge of heat. Anger, annoyance, irritation—it had to be one of those. Rosalind’s dark eyes penetrated her, as though she could see right through any pretense. Jane took a deep breath and held it. They could hear the sirens approaching in the distance.
3
Rosalind
When Rosalind received the page that there were several accident victims on the way to the hospital, she mentally kicked herself for having stayed in the office for so long. She’d been on the phone with her father’s physician, who was recommending that her father be put into a nursing home, but Rosalind refused to even consider it. She would have round the clock care for him at home, if necessary, but he would not be going into a home if she had anything to do with it. Still, it had taken much longer to convince her mother of this than the doctor, go figure. She felt bad for her mother, but it vexed her that she would even consider putting her father into a care facility. Her father had done everything to take care of her, didn’t he deserve better? Regardless, she was needed now.
When she reached the ER, she found Dr. Roberts and Dr. Mars there waiting. Doctor Mars was still in her lab coat directing, as she should be, and Dr. Roberts was already in her trauma gown waiting. Rosalind knew she was being brusque with her speech, but she was all out of polite pleasantries,especially as they waited for crash victims. As the sirens came closer, Rosalind could feel her pulse race, which had nothing to do with the intense stare coming from Dr. Roberts.
“Doctor Maxwell, are you ready?” Doctor Roberts asked.
“Call me Rosalind,” she answered, surprising even herself. Doctor Roberts’ eyes widened slightly, but she nodded. “Rosalind, then.” Her lips curled at the edges and a flood of exhilaration swept through Rosalind, but she forced it away. “You can call me Jane.” She prayed Jane couldn’t see the blood rushing to her cheeks. This was ridiculous.
The ambulance pulled into the bay and both doctors rushed out to meet them.
“Twenty-six-year-old female, severe lacerations to the head and chest, blunt force trauma to the abdomen, we think there may be bleeding,” the paramedic called out as she jumped from the ambulance and pulled the gurney out the back.
“I’ve got this one,” Rosalind said, and Jane thankfully backed away. Rosalind immediately started pulling at the woman’s clothes where they had been torn by the paramedics to stop the bleeding on site. She listened as the paramedic continued her report on vital signs and symptoms.
“Get her to the OR,” Rosalind called, and the paramedic stopped short.
“Are you not going to send her for a CT, there could be a brain bleed,” she said quickly.
“Her eyes are clear, and she’s responsive, her head is fine, but if we don’t get the abdominal bleed under control she will be in trouble,” Rosalind said, and the paramedic nodded and changed the gurney’s course. Within a few minutes, the woman was prepped and ready, and Rosalind scrubbed and gowned for surgery. She stepped in and began to cut, looking for the source of the bleed. The nurses didn’t move as quickly as she would have liked, but they were efficient and well-trained. Though theyseemed to be offended by Rosalind’s barked commands and rough manner. Still, within an hour, the bleeding was under control and Rosalind had her prepped and sent for the CT scan just to be safe. She disposed of her gown and gloves and scrubbed out, heading back to the ER for the next patient. Two of the patients had some major broken bones but nothing that needed surgery; the orthopedic doctors were handling them. But she was informed that Jane had the other patient already in the second OR. Rosalind didn’t stop to think, she scrubbed in and jumped into the procedure.
“What are you doing here?” Jane snapped, her eyes even more electric behind the mask.
“Assisting, what do you need?” Rosalind answered without preamble.
“What happened to the other patient?”
“She’s getting a CT. I repaired the abdominal bleed,” Rosalind said. She looked down at the patient; this one was younger, couldn’t be more than a teenager, and she was in bad shape.
“That was fast,” Jane said, though her voice sounded skeptical. “While we have her under, start working on her legs, there are a lot of lacerations, and I’m afraid there may be damage to the femoral artery. She’s losing blood a lot faster than she should be.”
Rosalind jumped in, searching for the source of the bleeding. She quickly found it and began the repair, but she wasn’t sure if the girl’s left leg was going to be salvaged.
