The Pairing (The Proposition #3)(38)

“Female, thirty, car accident,” the paramedic began before rattling off her vitals and other information. After Megan had absorbed the information, she turned to the patient. “Hi, I’m Megan. I’m going to get your IV started.”

The woman gave Megan a weak smile. “I’m Mary.”

“I guess it would be wrong to say it’s nice to meet you, huh?” Megan said, trying to talk as normally as she could to put the patient at ease.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Mary replied.

When Megan reached for Mary’s arm to find a place for the needle, Mary winced. “Ouch.”

As Megan surveyed the forearm, she shook her head. “Looks like you’ve got a break there.”

“My arm is broken?” Mary asked in a panic.

“We won’t know until we get you into X-ray. I’m going to try this vein here in your wrist.” The needle slipped easily into the vein, and Megan started the IV.

Pesh appeared in the doorway then. He smiled at Mary on the gurney. “Hello, Mary, I’m Dr. Nadeen. I understand you had a little accident today?”

She nodded. “This car came out of nowhere and hit me head on.”

“I’m so sorry. Why don’t we start by you telling me where it hurts?”

“My chest,” she said, with a grimace.

Pesh pulled back the hospital gown. “Were you wearing your seat belt?”

“Yes, I always do.”

“From the dust in your hair, can I assume the airbag deployed?”

“Yeah, it did.”

“Is this where it hurts?” he asked, running his fingers down an angry red whelp. It started at her neck and crossed over her chest. Some of it was hidden by the many leads coming from the heart monitor.

“Yeah.”

“It looks like the seat belt and the airbag did a number on you.”

Mary winced. “I thought they were supposed to help you, not hurt you.”

Pesh smiled. “Trust me. You’re much better off with a little burn than if you hadn’t been wearing it.” After eyeing the monitors Mary was hooked up to, he turned to Megan. “Blood pressure is low. Let’s administer some blood products to raise it.”

Megan nodded. After checking Mary’s chart for her blood type, she grabbed a bag of blood from the coolers. Trading places with Pesh, she started another IV in the crook of Mary’s right elbow.

“Besides your chest, are you hurting anywhere else?” Pesh asked, after he finished listening to her heart and lungs.

“My stomach.”

Megan’s breath hitched. It was never good for a car accident patient to have stomach pains. That usually meant hemorrhaging, which could also attribute the low blood pressure.

Pressing on Mary’s abdomen, Pesh asked, “Does this hurt?”

“No.”

“Here?”

“No.”

“What about here?”

A screech came from the bed. Pesh’s brows drew with worry. “I’m going to do a quick ultrasound, Mary. I want to see what’s causing the pain.”

“Okay.”

Megan pulled the machine over to the bedside. She squirted the jelly onto Mary’s stomach, and then Pesh began running the wand over the skin.

“I’m feeling a little dizzy, too,” Mary said, in a low voice.

Pesh and Megan exchanged a quick look before he shoved the ultrasound machine back. Turning to Kristi, he said, “Call the OR. She’s got a ruptured spleen.”

After depressing the break on the gurney, Pesh swung it out of the trauma room and started down the hall. “Go with him,” Kristi instructed, as she held onto the phone.

Megan jogged down the hall to catch up with Pesh. He smacked the buttons on the elevator before glancing down at Mary. “Stay with me, okay? We’re going to get you into surgery, and then you’ll be good as new.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Without hesitation, Pesh replied, “Yes, but you have to stay with me.”

The elevator’s doors slid open. As Megan helped Pesh push the gurney inside, Mary asked, “Did you turn on more lights?”

Megan creased her brows in worry as she glanced over to Pesh. “We’re getting in the elevator to take you to the OR for surgery,” she replied.

“But it’s so bright,” Mary whispered before closing her eyes. Her head lolled to the side just as the alarms on the monitors began screeching in Megan’s ears. “Dammit, she’s crashing!” Pesh cried.

Ice-cold fear pricked its way from the top of Megan’s head all the way down her body. A patient was crashing in the elevator without the crash cart. What the hell were they supposed to do? “Lower the gurney,” Pesh ordered.

Megan’s jerky hands fumbled with the lever. Once it was flat, Pesh brought his hands to Mary’s chest and began compressions. Without having to be told, Megan leaned down, pinched Mary’s nose, and began breathing into her mouth. They worked in perfect synchronization.

“Stay with me, Mary!” Pesh barked, as his hands pumped in a manic pace up and down on Mary’s chest.

Glancing up from her breathing, Megan eyed the monitors. “No pulse.”

When Pesh didn’t respond, she continued doing breathing cycles. At the taste of something warm meeting her lips, she jerked back. Blood oozed out of Mary’s mouth. “There’s more damage than the spleen. She’s bleeding from the mouth.” Pesh didn’t even acknowledge her comment. “The seat belt and airbag could have caused an aortic tear as well. There’s nothing we can do.”