Page 7 of Nanny for the Doctor

It was just the same for her. A bad car accident that wasn’t her fault. And she was alone with a child, too.

When she got in the wreck, I was off doing some bullshit errands. I can’t even really remember what they were anymore.

The only thing I know is that I wasn’t there, and I wasn’t at the hospital where I could have helped her.Savedher.

Outside of all that, though, the OR pulses with a thick tension. The woman’s internals are badly damaged, and I need to stop the bleeding first if I’m going to be able to find and repair the injury.

I get suction, which allows me moments to see what I’m looking for. I work as quickly as possible to suture the tear in her left ventricle that’s leaking all the blood with each beat of her heart.

I hear it slow on the monitor behind me, her blood pressure dropping even more. Once it’s closed, we pause to check her vitals.

They’re not stabilizing. Her blood pressure is still dropping, so she’s losing blood elsewhere.

“Damn it! Help me find it!”

The other surgeon present works with me to find the blood leak, but we’re coming up blank. My heart pounds, and the frantic energy of the room picks up.

The monitor flatlines behind me, and I quickly turn to see her vitals at zero.

“Fuck! Paddles!”

We try to shock her heart back into a rhythm, but after five tries, the nurse near me just lays a hand on my arm.

“She’s gone, Dr. Finnigan.”

“No, we can find it. We can—”

“Doctor.”

I meet eyes with Dr. Taylor across from me. Rage bursts through my chest as hard as any electricity, and I drop my tools.

“Fuck!”

Leaving the OR for the sinks, I tear off my mask and cap, throwing them in the trash. I pound my fists into the ceramic, hanging my head.

Over the intercom that connects the two rooms, I hear Dr. Taylor and the nurses call it.

“Time of death 21:15”

And then silence fills the space around me. I stand there in front of the sink for what seems like hours, staring at the gleaming silver under the fluorescent lights.

Eventually, I turn on the water and wash up, but I’m there running my hands under the water for too long. Dr. Taylor comes in, laying a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll tell the family. Go home.”

I’m about to protest, but she just shakes her head and smiles softly.

“Igotthis. Go home to Henry.”

Hearing his name makes a whole new burn shoot through my chest, and I just nod at her.

I’m not a stranger to losing patients. I’ve been practicing long enough to know it happens more frequently than any doctor likes, but that’s the reality of life.

This, though, failing to save this woman from a fucking car wreck, feels like swallowing acid. Every nerve and instinct is begging me to do something to fix this.

And the rest of me knows I’m too late. Again.

Chapter3

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