I prefer to ignore her and the spiteful remarks but Tatiana likes confrontations more than a kid likes Christmas presents.
“Why you got to be such a bitch? You know what? I’m glad that old man threw up on you yesterday. You deserved it.”
“Go to hell, will ya?”
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The sound from hell. Everyone shuts up when the pager goes off and Tati checks to see which one is ringing.
“It’s you, London. Dr. Ford is calling you to the ER,” Helena growls and turns her back to us. Oh yes, lucky me!
I drag myself out of bed and pick up my pager. What does he want now? To pick up his dry cleaning? I totally expect something like that to happen, he’s such an ass.
I walk to the ER at a slow pace thinking about all the ways I could kill him using just a syringe.
When I finally get downstairs and go through the double doors, I freeze. It’s a blood bath here. Ambulances are coming in one after another, there are people bleeding and screaming in pain and a team is running a code blue in the far corner.
“Hell!” I say and run to the admission desk.” Doctor Ford?”
The man behind it hands me chart and a pair of sanitary gloves.
“Trauma room four.”
I get to it in less than ten seconds and go in. Five people are hovering around the body of an elderly male, with Dr. Ford leading and barking orders. He is in the middle of yelling at his intern when he spots me on the door.
“What the hell took you so long? Move, we need more hands.”
I don’t wait for him to say it twice. I check the pulse, the ventilation system, I hang the IV bag and make sure everything he might need is in close proximity.
“Push one of epi!” I do as I’m told and inject the medicine through the central line as fast as I can. “He’s bleeding. Nurse, come here, I need your hands.”
There’s two of us in the room but I’m the closest to Ford so I’m the hands he needs. When I get to his side, I gape at the image in front of me. The man lying on the bed has his chest open. Something made his chest cavity crack.
“Oh, my God...”
Dr. Ford turns to me and frowns. This is his signature move.
“Snap out of it.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this. How is he alive?”
“A miracle. He’s bleeding right here.” He points his finger to an artery. “I need you to stop the bleeding with your finger so I can work around it.”
“You want me to put my hands in his chest? Are you insane?”
“You’re not in Kansas anymore, Geneva. I need the resident to work with me so get to it or he’ll bleed out.”
I totally ignore the mispronunciation of my name. I look at my hand nervously than shake it off. I have to do this. Following Ford’s directions, I insert my hand and feel the vein. When I feel the blood flow, I put my fingers on it and immediately the pulse starts to get a little more stable. I look at Dr. Ford for approval.
“Good. Very good. All you have to do now is apply moderate pressure and stay still. Not even you can screw that up.”
Oh, my God, how I wanna kick him. He’s ruining this amazing moment for me.
For ten minutes they try to do as much damage control as possible around my hand and then the monitors start screaming. He’s losing his pulse. Ford needs to operate. Now.
“Call the OR, tell them we’re coming right now,” he barks to the other nurse then turns to me. “I’ll help you hop onto the bed. Now more than ever, it is important to not move your finger. If he goes into V-fib and his heart stops pumping blood we lose him. There’s no way I could resuscitate in this condition.”
In other words, don’t screw up. Shit has really hit the fan and I can’t stop feeling guilty that I didn’t come down here faster. I nod, giving him the signal that I’m ready.
“Ok, I’ll pick you up.”
His hands go to my waist to help me get on top of the patient and then he lifts my leg over. His touch is precise and strong, making my skin burn under his palm. I hate myself for enjoying it. This is not the moment and he is not the guy.
“Hold on to the bed with your free hand.”
“Ok,” I answer with a weak voice.
“Ok, people, let’s move.”
The bed starts rolling and everything becomes a blur around me. There’s a lot of noise around, so many people passing by, but I can’t pay attention to anything. I have this man’s life at the tips of my fingers. This man’s life!
I should be scared but I’m not. The adrenalin rush makes me feel like I’m ready to fly.
We get to the OR, but I don’t remember much. I’m too drunk on this feeling. It’s vital for me to be here and it feels fucking amazing. I don’t care how many hours I have to put up with Dr. Ford and his ignorant crap if I get to do things like this.
When we get up, Ford slowly pulls my hand out and clamps the wound. He rushes me out of the room, tells me to get clean but I can barely hear, my head is still dizzy. So dizzy I can feel him touching my face and asking if I’m ok. That’s definitely in my imagination. I think I nod and he disappears behind the automatic door, his body heat leaving my space.
All I can do now is wait.
It took four hours before the doors opened and Dr. Ford walked out. I didn’t hesitate to hop up and go to him.
“How is he? Everything ok?” He jumps surprised.
“You’re still here?”
Where the hell would I go?
“Mhm. How did it go in there? I could have stayed, you know? I could have assisted you.”
He looks at me funny and puts his hand over my forehead pretending to check for a fever.
“Stop, I’m fine.” I say in protest.
“Georgetown, you were in a haze; you nearly missed the door and walked into a wall when I kicked you out. You were no good for me.”
Dick! Such an arrogant, egomaniac, smug dick.
“Georgetown, really?”
“You could have been a Georgina if youhad a decent name. I think it fits.” Like hell it does!
I can feel my cheeks heating up and the worst part? I don’t know if it’s anger or a reaction I have to his jerk smile. Why am I attracted to him? How can I be? All he has done since the first time I got here was to take me for a fool and make fun of my name.
...Then I remember him asking if I’m ok, earlier. I was too heated to register what happened, but I remember him putting a hand on my cheek and looking at me like he actually gave a damn.
And here we are now.
“Oh, don’t get so upset, sweet cheeks. Go home now, you’re obviously exhausted, and there’s not much to do. I’ll head out myself after checking some scans.”
Dismissing me with a flick of his wrist he starts walking, but I don’t give up and go after him.
“You didn’t tell me how the patient is. He died, didn’t he?”
I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s a wonder he made it all the way to the hospital in that shape.
“No, actually he’s fine. And I got an ID. Warren Omaha, seventy-one years old. There was a safety hazard in a nursing home earlier today and a heating device exploded hitting his chest. It was pretty intense. I stopped the bleeding and closed up his chest as good as I could, but we’ll definitely open him up again. I’ll ask Ortho for a consult and a plan to install a bone graft.”