Part 5: Cardiac arrest and broken collarbones

“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”

Molly counted under her breath with every compression. Despite the burst of adrenaline that had hit her when she sprinted to the trauma room, she could feel her energy waning. The cold spells had come back too, and the block of ice that seemed to be building in the center of her chest added to her exhaustion. She dug deep to keep going.

“Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…”

Next to her the defibrillators whined, ready take over if the compressions didn’t help.

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.”

Molly backed off, panting, as another nurse checked for a pulse and the doctor checked the monitor. “Still in v fib. Go again!” the doctor shouted.

Come on, you can do this, Molly thought as a new round of shocks sent a jolt through the patient’s chest. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to jump back in for another two minutes.

Before she could move though, the doctor said, “Sofia, continue compressions.”

Of course another nurse would need to take over. How could Molly have forgotten? Eyes lingering on the patient, she walked out the door so fresh nurses could have space to give it their all.

Besides, she knew the sharp, cold digging into her meant she couldn’t do anything for this patient anyway. No matter how long she performed compressions, she wouldn’t have saved him. That much remained constant with her cold spells over the last few months.

Leaning against the wall, Molly squeezed her eyes shut. If the cold spell patients weren’t saveable, then what was she doing here? She’d come to learn what the cold spells meant, and it seemed she had. Death. Always death. What was the point of staying now except to torture herself knowing those patients had no hope? What good was she to them if somewhere deep inside her she gave up on them before even trying to save them?

The ice block vanished like it had never been there and Molly slammed a fist into the wall.

“That wall causing you trouble?” the nurse manager Irene asked behind her.

Molly turned around, heat rising up into her cheeks. “No.”

“Then why in God’s name are you trying to put a hole through it?”

To Molly’s relief, Irene wore a smirk on her face. Molly glanced back at the trauma room where another nurse walked out with a glum face. Inside, they saw the trauma staff resetting the room for the next unlucky soul to come through there as the patient was taken to the morgue.

“You were helping in trauma?” Irene asked. “I thought you were on triage tonight.”

“They needed an extra hand.”

“I see,” Irene’s eyes bore into Molly as if trying to read what was really going on inside her nurse’s mind. “Why don’t you go cool down outside, Molly?”

Molly snorted. “Isn’t it still like eighty-five out there?” L.A. heatwaves didn’t end just because it was two in the morning.

A smile played at Irene’s lips, but didn’t quite reach her baggy eyes. “You know what I mean. Take a break. Come back to triage in ten minutes, and not a minute sooner.”

The emergency department had slowed down now that the code had been resolved. She might as well take advantage. There might not be another opportunity the rest of the night.

Molly made her way past a row of beds toward the nurse’s station at the far end of the hall. If she was lucky, there’d be a fresh pot of coffee sitting there to keep her going through the rest of the night.

“Hey you!” A balding man clutching his shoulder called after her.

So much for a break. Judging by his bright red face screwed up in pain, she’d probably regret this. “Yes?”

“Why don’t I have that pillow I asked for?”

It took every inch of self control a few deep breaths not to gawk at him. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s been busy tonight. I can—”

“Get me that pillow. Now.”

Molly glanced at his chart. Mr. Lambert had come in with a broken left collarbone, which explained his face and maybe even his attitude. Still, he didn’t have to snap at her. She hadn’t forgotten his pillow. And if she wanted to, she could leave now, not bring the pillow, and go back to triage another way. He’d never even know her name. But then he’d just be even worse to the next nurse walking by.

Taking a deep breath, she went to get his pillow.

“You’d better come right back!” he called between shallow breaths.

He’s just alone and in pain, she kept repeating to herself as she grabbed a fresh pillow. But it seemed petty to be so angry about a pillow when her last patient just died. His narrow eyes glared at her as she came back to his bed and her mantra became, Just get him his damn pillow and take your break.

“Here,” she said, pushing him forward with a little more force than usual to slide the pillow behind him.

“Ow! Watch it,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Molly said. He’ll live. Unlike some patients. “And if you need anything else, your assigned nurse should be by soon.”

Molly pushed past the heavy curtain surrounding the bed before he could say another word to her. But before she’d gone two beds down, the feeling of dozens of ice shards ripping through her chest stopped her in her tracks. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes watered as the pathways continued to sting. Turn around, they seemed to say. Go back.

Eyeing Mr. Lambert’s curtain warily, she wondered what waited on the other side. Cold meant death. No time to think about what might have happened in the last twenty seconds though. She ripped open the curtain to find Mr. Lambert limp against his pillows, eyes rolling into the back of his head. It didn’t look like he was breathing.

“Mr. Lambert?”

What, a broken collarbone hadn’t been enough? She rushed over and felt for a pulse in his neck. The bastard had gone into cardiac arrest.

“I need a crash cart over here!” she yelled down the hall. “We have a code blue!” Then she threw the pillows to the side, got him on his back, and started compressions.

“One, two, three, four…” she counted, a new burst of adrenaline giving her strength she didn’t have ten seconds ago.

Dimly aware of other medical personnel filling up the space beside her, she continued CPR as they hooked him up to a monitor and started an IV.

Come on you stubborn asshole. You’re not dying on me too.

Her two minutes were almost up and her arms burned to keep the rhythm. Sweat formed on her furrowed brow and she wanted to scream, “Come on!” but she could barely take in enough air to keep up the compressions.

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.”

Someone else would have to take over. He could still last thirteen minutes, but she could barely stand at this point.

“We’ve got a heartbeat!” the doctor said. Molly blinked in disbelief. “Let’s get him up to the ICU quick. They’ll take care of him from there.”

As a few nurses got the bed ready to move, the doctor clapped her on the shoulder. “If you hadn’t started compressions so soon, I doubt he’d have come around so quickly, if at all. Nice job.”

He was alive. If she had the energy, she would have collapsed to the floor and cried with joy. And as everything quieted down, she realized the ice shards had disappeared.

“I thought you were taking a break, Molly.” Irene had found her.

“He needed a pillow,” Molly said, still in shock.

Irene glanced at all the pillows scattered on the ground and laughed. A smile broke out on Molly’s face and she laughed too.

“Come on,” Irene motioned for her to follow. “I’m going to escort you to the cafeteria, otherwise you’re never going to get there.”

No matter what happened the rest of the night, Molly didn’t think her smile would leave her face.

They were saveable. And she was going to be the one to save them.

_____________

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