“You have to let go,” Demetra said to Mekayla. “You can stand with me, but you can’t go with Jordan. Dr. Howell will take very good care of him.” Demetra pulled Mekayla away from the stretcher, coaxing Mekayla into dropping Jordan’s hand.
Dr. Howell walked alongside the stretcher where Jordan lay, writhing in pain. “Jordan, you were in a car accident. We’re bringing you up to emergency surgery.”
This is also a combined (ooh snazzy) sequel to Ice DayandKneecap Day. This work can stand on its own, but some characters make more sense in the context of the past two fics.
And of course, this is a RSS story for @brutal-nemesis’s Spiral Day 2021.
Trigger Warnings–also tagged: Hospitals
———-
“Jaydyn, you said that your cousin is Chaia Glassman, right?” Anna asked.
Without looking up from his hospital crossword, Jaydyn replied, “Yeah. Why?”
“Just making sure.” Anna replied, trying to not sound conspicuous. She walked over to the entrance to the ED, where a stretcher lay in wait. “Bring her over to trauma 2,” Anna commanded.
Chaia hadn’t said a word since the ambulance left the lake. Lucy had agreed to let Maria sit on the stretcher with Chaia when they got to the hospital. Maria’s hand reached into the metallic blob at the head of the stretcher.
Upon their arrival at the trauma bay, Maria jumped off the stretcher. “Hey, lifey,” she said, “we need to move you again.”
Chaia squirmed in Aaron’s arms as he lifted her from the stretcher to the exam table. Chaia kept her legs unusually still, which, while concerning, helped Aaron stay safe during the transfer.
Anna walked over and peeled the metallic warming blanket off Chaia’s cold, wet body. “Chaia, it’s Anna,” she said in a slow soft voice. She slipped her hand into her pants pocket, discreetly pulling out her pen light. “Can you look at me?” Chaia didn’t budge. She kept her head firmly in her soaked sweater. “Please?” Anna tried again, sliding her free hand under Chaia’s chin. As Anna gently tilted Chaia’s head to face out, the movement caused Chaia’s eyes to open. They were open just long enough for Anna to shine the penlight and confirm that Chaia’s pupils were reactive. “It’s over,” Anna assured Chaia, sliding the light back into her pants pocket. “What do you say we get you out of these wet clothes?” Anna bent into a white cabinet next to the exam table and grabbed a dotted hospital gown and patient belonging bag.
Maria placed herself at the foot of the exam table and grasped Chaia’s hands. “Up, up,” she said, gently tugging on Chaia’s arms to sit her upright. With Chaia sitting slumped slightly forward, Maria reached down to the bottom of Chaia’s sweater and began to pull it up and off of her wife. She slipped Chaia’s wet, curly head out of the neck hole and pulled the sweater off Chaia’s arms. Maria shifted to Anna, trading the wet sweater for the hospital gown. Anna placed the sweater in the patient belongings bag. Maria draped the gown over Chaia and buttoned the back snaps. She gently lowered Chaia to a resting position on the exam table.
“Now, let’s get those skates off.” Anna grabbed a pair of scissors and walked down to Chaia’s feet. She easily unlaced Chaia’s left skate and slid it off her wet foot. She swapped Chaia’s sopping wet wool sock for a bright red hospital sock and carefully placed the skates on the floor away from the table. Chaia’s right foot, on the other hand, was a bit more complicated. The right skate was entangled in green slimy plants and looked to be filled by a larger foot than the left skate. Anna cut through the mangled lakeweed to expose the skate’s laces. She carefully untied the bunny ears knot and began to unthread the laces from the eyelets.
At the second eyelet pair, Chaia whimpered and thrust a flapping hand toward her foot. Maria took hold of the hand and placed it against her sweater. “I’m right here, lifey. Squeeze when it hurts.”
Anna returned to meticulously unlacing the skates. As the unlacing neared the ankle bend, Chaia seemed increasingly agitated. Her whimpers turned to moans. Tears made their way down her still-puffy face. She finally managed a single word. “Stop,” she said weakly.
“I’m almost done,” Anna assured Chaia. She sighed and picked up the scissors. She loosened the remaining laces and cut down the middle. “Okay. I am going to take the skate off in three, two, one.” Anna placed one hand on Chaia’s shin and the other under Chaia’s heel. She braced Chaia’s leg and pulled the skate off.
As soon as her foot was free, Chaia folded into a ball.
Anna looked over at Maria. “I need to talk to you out here,” she said, pointing towards the center of the ED.
Maria planted a kiss on Chaia’s head. “I’ll be right back.” She joined Anna beyond the end of the side curtain of the trauma bay.
Jaydyn had heard the chaos on the other side of the curtain and was getting curious, so it was surprising when Maria appeared from the other side of the curtain. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Um.” Maria paused. She pulled back the curtain separating Jaydyn and Chaia’s sections of trauma treatment. “Ice skating accident.”
“Wh- what happened?” Jaydyn asked. He was shocked to see his cousin crumpled almost entirely into a pathetic wet ball. The only exception, of course, was Chaia’s bright purple ankle, which rested against the white sheet on the exam table.
At that moment, Rory walked in and headed for the back wall, where the portable X-ray had been left. “I am so glad that radiology forgot this here today. Oh, and, uh, Jaydyn, your surgery is scheduled for 2:30. They’ll come by to get you prepped shortly.” Rory grabbed the X-ray and headed over to Chaia.
Maria looked over at Jaydyn. “Surgery?”
Jaydyn nodded. “Something about taking out whatever is left of my kneecap. That’s not important right now. I need to help Chaia.” He glanced over at Chaia, who was doing a lousy job of telling Rory to get away from her. Jaydyn shifted forward in his hospital bed, but was promptly stopped by Anna.
“You, sir, are not getting up,” she commanded. “However, I can wheel you over there.” Anna walked to the head of Jaydyn’s bed and unlocked the brakes on the wheels. Slowly, she pushed the bed to align with Chaia’s. She locked the brakes.
“Chaia, it’s me, Jaydyn. Do you wanna hold my hand?” Jaydyn reached for Chaia’s flapping hand.
Chaia uncrumpled and rotated to look Jaydyn in the eyes. “Hey, loser,” she mumbled.
Rory let out an exasperated sigh. “Chaia, I know it hurts, but please stop moving for a minute.”
Jaydyn saw the pain and fear in Chaia’s eyes. “Look at me,” he said. “I have no clue what I am going to tell your mom. Or my mom.” He let out a little laugh. “Oh gosh, what am I going to tell Bubbe? How am I supposed to explain that her two grandchildren got injured in unrelated accidents at the same time?” He waited for Chaia to react but got nothing. “Come on, it is kinda funny.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jaydyn saw Rory pull X-ray images up on the computer. “So, Dr. Byrne, what’s the good word?”
“So, Chaia,” Dr. Byrne started, but he didn’t have Chaia’s attention. She was numbly staring at the ceiling over Jaydyn’s shoulder. However, a short nudge on Jaydyn’s part brought her focus over to Rory’s computer. Rory continued, “it appears that you have a spiral fracture in your Talus bone, which is in your ankle.” He used his cursor to circle an area of white bone with a black line down the middle. “There is some good news. It has remained stable and does not require surgery. Your body temperature appears to be steady and normal, so we just need to focus on getting a cast on that leg. Okay?”
With her free hand, Chaia reached for Maria, who immediately took hold. Chaia locked eyes with Rory and gave him an unsure nod.
Omar let out a scream as Dr. Howell straightened his bright purple leg against the bed. She wrapped soft restraints around Omar’s wrists to get him to stop moving in the way of his examination.
“I can’t do this. He’s in so much pain. Can’t you up his morphine?” Demetra asked, a tinge of panic in her voice. She stared at the scene of Omar flailing in pain on the gurney.
Anna grasped Demetra’s hand. “He’s maxed out on the meds.”
“Can’t you do something?” Demetra demanded.
“Dr. Howell paged ortho and gen surg, but this kind of damage isn’t good to anyone.”
“I need some help!” a young woman screams into the ED waiting room.
Anna rushes a wheelchair over to the frantic young woman, who is supporting a similarly-aged man. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
“He hadn’t had any water in a couple of hours and he collapsed from dehydration during study group. I got him some water to drink, but Bram decided to challenge him to a chugging contest, and now he’s been coughing and spitting up water for 15 minutes.”
“Okay. Let’s get him in the wheelchair. What’s his name?”
“M-ma-max. It’s Max. I’m, um, Malin. We’re twins, but I’m a whole hour older.”
“Okay,” Anna says, helping Max into the wheelchair. “Come with me.” She pushes Max through the entry to the ED and helps Max onto a bed. “Dr. Byrne!” Anna calls out. “I’ve got a college-age male with a possible laryngospasm or pulmonary edema!”
“Get him on Oxygen and keep him calm. I’m on my way and paging respiratory.”
“What does that mean?” Malin asks tentatively.
“He might be reacting to water in his lungs. You may have heard it be called delayed drowning.”
Dr. Byrne meets Kai at the entrance to the ED. “What’s up?”
“Jack Brooks. 40-year-old male collapsed with sudden severe chest pain and shortness of breath a couple hours after playing football with his kids. Wife and kids are on their way over. Sats holding in the mid-80s, heart rate at 120, pressure at 130/90.”
Dr. Byrne glances over at Dr. Howell. “Alright. Bring him to trauma two. I need ultrasound.” He walks along the stretcher and helps Kai transfer Jack to the bed. “Okay, Mr. Brooks,” he says, squirting some ultrasound gel onto the probe, “my name is Dr. Byrne. I am here to help you. Now, this is going to be a bit cold, but it’ll help me get a better sense of what is going on.” He pushes the probe into Jack’s chest.
Jack flinches in pain. His breaths are heavy and strained. “Can’t breathe,” he pants out.
Dr. Howell appears behind Dr. Byrne. She grabs an Oxygen mask from behind the gurney and places it over Jack’s face. She looks over at the ultrasound screen. “Dr. Byrne, what do we see here?”
“That looks like a pneumothorax.” Dr. Byrne spies Jack’s blank expression out of the corner of his eye. “It means you have a collapsed lung. My recommendation for your current situation is a needle aspiration of the pleural cavity. This procedure can be done right here, right now, but it’s a bit uncomfortable. Do we have your consent to proceed?”
“Three, two, one.” Maven slides the needle into Myra’s arm.
“No, no, no!” Myra calls out.
“It’s a little late for that,” Maven replies as she tapes the catheter against Myra’s skin. “You ready to head upstairs?”
Myra shakes her head. “No,” she replies weakly. “Do we have to do this?”
Maven unbrakes Myra’s wheelchair and starts pushing it toward the elevators at the end of the hallway. “Dr. Buhle will take great care of you,” she says.
“Where are we going?”
“To see a friend.”
————————
“Dr. Howell, this is Myra Handler. She’s Dr. Byrne’s patient — the one with the abnormal imaging.”
Dr. Howell extends her arm to give Myra a firm handshake. “Hi, Myra, I’m Dr. Howell. I work with Dr. Byrne. I understand that he referred you for a diagnostic procedure. Is that right?”
Myra nods. “Do I have to?” she asks.
“Legally speaking, I cannot make you,” Dr. Howell replies, “but this procedure is the best shot at figuring out where your pain is coming from and making sure that it is nothing life-threatening. I highly recommend that you have it done. Why are you hesitant?”
“I’m scared,” Myra admits.
Dr. Howell nods. “It’s okay to be afraid. But you are in the best of hands. Dr. Buhle is one of the best doctors I know. And Maven will be with you the entire time.”
Victor presses his hands into his sister’s bleeding neck. “How much longer?” he asks the paramedic.
“We’re there,” the medic responds. The ambulance’s lights and sirens die down. The paramedic jumps out the front and opens the back two doors.
The other paramedic, Elissa, slowly pushes the stretcher out the back of the ambulance, where it is stabilized by the first paramedic. Victor remains on top of the stretcher, straddling his sister’s body, hands pressed into the towel on her neck. Elissa pushes the stretcher through the ambulance entrance doors.
“Clare Sosa, 27-year-old female with severe neck laceration and carotid trauma,” Elissa calls out. “Heart rate is 125 and BP is at 80/54 and dropping. Pressure has been applied to the wound for,” she shifts her gaze to Victor.
“28 and a half minutes,” he finishes.
A small group of doctors and nurses in yellow trauma gowns approach the stretcher. One of them asks, “Is she conscious?” “In and out,” Victor replies, his eyes meeting a familiar face in the crowd.
“Victor,” Samson calls out, making his way forward in the rush. “3, and then straight to the OR,” he tells Elissa, walking alongside her. Samson turns to a nurse. “Maven, page Dr. Riley. Get him down here stat. Oh and call the blood bank. We’ll need as many units of O neg as we can get our hands on.”
“Aren’t you also a trauma surgeon?” Maven responds.
“I am, but I will need the help. Thank you,” Samson fires back. Maven splits from the group as they pass the nurse’s station. Samson unwraps gauze and hands it to another nurse. “Opal, when we get to three, you’re gonna switch out with Victor, okay?”
“Yes,” Opal says.
“I can’t leave her,” Victor pleads.
The group stops at ED bay 3, where Dr. Riley has appeared. “What is the matter Dr. Buhle?” he asks.
“Carotid trauma,” Samson replies. “I need you to take a look and start the surgery. There is something more immediate I need to take care of.” Samson gazes at Victor. “On the count of three, you are going to get off of your sister and lift the towel. Dr. Riley will take a look and Opal will resume pressure on the wound. Then they’ll take her up to surgery. Ready?”
“No.”
“Victor, you have to do this. Please take my hand and get down.” Samson extends his arm. “Please let us do our jobs.”
Victor takes his boyfriend’s hand. He slowly climbs down from the stretcher and lifts his hand, but he leaves the towel. Samson doesn’t care about the towel. He helps Victor to a nearby chair.
Dr. Riley peeks under the towel and signals to Opal to resume pressure on the wound. He grasps the stretcher and begins wheeling it to the OR.
Samson peels his gloves off and gets Victor a hand wipe. He slowly wipes the blood off of Victor’s hands and allows them to wrap around his yellow gown into a tight embrace. Samson hugs back. “We are going to do everything we can,” he reassures Victor. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Victor says, his voice breaking. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.” He sobs into Samson’s shoulder. “I just heard a noise, so I went to check on her, and I found her like this.”
“That’s okay. She’s in good hands. It’s gonna be okay.” Samson ignores the page that he knows is from Dr. Riley.
hello friends! just wanted to talk about how things are going. this post will discuss psychiatric hospitalization, discrimination, abandonment, self harm, and my recent su*cide attempt. please keep that in mind and take care of yourselves!
before i do though, thank you so much for all your kind words of support during this time. i think one of the biggest contributing factors leading up to my attempt was feeling as if the universe was telling me to give up, that i could never do anything good for anyone. seeing how many people have found comfort and joy in this blog is very validating in all honesty. when i made this blog in 2016, i didn’t know it would gain such a following and i would meet so many incredible people. thank you so much.
as many of you know, i recently attempted su*cide (and i would’ve gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for that meddling narcan! /jk) and was hospitalized. since then, i’ve been slowly getting back to a place where i’m not in danger. i’m still acclimating to life again, but i’ve enrolled in a phlebotomy class and graduate in february. i also plan to finish my degree and start college once again in the fall.
during my time in the hospital, i did experience some discrimination with one of the staff. basically, i told her a little bit about what was going on (losing my job bc my boss falsely accused me of stealing, struggling in school, being shit talked, lied to, and abandoned by people who said they were my friends) and she said that i should work at mcdonalds because it would ‘teach me how to work hard’. then said that su*cide is a sin and i would’ve gone to hell if i had died. then said that i really didn’t want to die. THEN said i just needed to ‘apply myself’ and that i was selfish…. GIRL WHEN I TELL YOU I SCREAMED—
i didn’t actually scream, but i did have a panic attack and start scratching the hell out of my arm. now i have a gnarly scar there. also she called her supervisor and said i was giving her attitude because i was hyperventilating and wouldn’t pray with her. girl.
anyways, since coming out of the hospital, i won’t lie, not much in my life has gotten better. i’m still stuck with very abusive parents. my ptsd has worsened to the point that it feels beyond repair. efforts to make friends in real life have been unsuccessful, and part of that is because i now feel that i’m incapable of being anything more than the comedian. i feel more unlovable than ever. but i’m trying to change that. i’m actively making the changes i need to get better and maybe it’s helping. i dunno. there are days when i feel good, but most days i just feel empty. we’ll get there. eventually.
thanks for reading this, if you still are. much love to you all!
send me “ you’re here…?” for your muse to wake up in a hospital bed and find my muse holding their hand. send “ i’m here. “ for my muse to wake up and find yours.
