are sponsoring the Festival of the Arts down at the lakefront this weekend. I’m supposed to be volunteering in the first-aid station tomorrow, but my son is sick. Would you mind taking my shift from one to four in the afternoon?”
“Sure.” Helping out in the first-aid station didn’t sound too hard. And besides, she didn’t mind a little volunteer work.
“Thanks a lot, Jillian.” Greg sounded relieved. “I owe you.”
“No, you don’t. It’s not a big deal at all. Just take care of yourself and your son.”
“I will.”
The next day Jillian headed down to the lakefront early, so she could make sure to find a parking spot. The art museum was a beautiful modern white structure overlooking the shores of Lake Michigan. There were various art displays set up along the lakefront and she took a few minutes to browse through works by local artists before heading over to the small trailer with the universal red cross on the front.
There was a man and a woman inside. The guy looked somewhat familiar. He stepped forward. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’m Dr. Jillian Davis, I’m here to cover Craig’s shift.”
“Ah, that explains it. I didn’t think you were Craig.” His green eyes twinkled. “I’m Adam, and my shift is over.” He glanced at the woman. “Mary, would you mind giving Jillian the rundown of how we’re set up?”
“No problem.” The woman smiled at her. “I’m Mary Drover, the person who’s stuck here all day.” She rolled her eyes at Adam when he laughed. “Thanks for helping out. When I’m not here, you can get in touch with me on this two-way radio.”
“Nice meeting you, Jillian. See you later, Mary.” Adam gave them both a little wave as he left the trailer.
Mary spent a few minutes showing her around. The trailer was set up very much like a mini-emergency room.
“All right, I’m going to walk around outside for a while,” Mary told her. “Remember to call me if you need me.”
Jillian nodded. She hadn’t known what to expect from the first-aid station, but alone in the trailer, she looked around and thought maybe she should have brought something to read in order to keep busy.
It turned out her optimism was premature. Within ten minutes she heard a little boy crying and a young mother rushed in, her blouse smeared with blood. “My son Joey fell and hit the back of his head on the pavement.”
“All right, let’s take a look.” Jillian indicated the mother should set Joey, who looked to be about five, on the small exam table. They boy was still crying and she tried to soothe him while she examined the back of his head. “There, now, Joey, it’s all right. I know your head hurts, but you’re fine now.” Luckily the cut was pretty small, but there was some tissue swelling. “I don’t think it needs stitches,” she said to his mother. “But he does have a small lump here and I’d like to apply a cold pack.”
“No stitches? Are you sure? There was so much blood!” The woman held onto the boy, trying to ease his crying.
“Head wounds bleed a lot, but we’ll use the ice first and see how it goes.” Jillian smiled at the boy as his sobs quieted to smaller hiccups. She cracked a cold pack and mixed the chemical contents to activate it before placing it on his head. “There now, you’re so brave. How would you like a lollipop? If your mom says it’s OK,” she amended.
“Sure.” Joey’s mother appeared relieved when her son stopped crying and chose a grape sucker. “Thanks. I’m glad it’s not serious.”
“No, he should be fine.” Jillian wondered if most of the patients she’d see during the afternoon would be children. She didn’t really mind. Sometimes kids came into the Trinity Medical Center’s ED by mistake, instead of going to Children’s Memorial, which was right next door. She wasn’t a pediatrician by trade, but she could handle kids if needed.
Her next patient proved her theory wrong, when a frail elderly lady came in, after nearly fainting in the heat.
Jillian managed to get the woman to drink some Gatorade and assessed her to make sure she wasn’t having some sort of stroke or any other undiagnosed illness. However, after about thirty minutes, the woman seemed much better and Jillian allowed her to leave, although she cautioned her that if she became light-headed again to call 911.
“I will, dear. Thank you.”
The trailer was quiet for another fifteen minutes before her door opened again.
“Jillian!”
She was just as surprised to see Alec, holding a young girl whose heart-shaped face was streaked with tears. “Alec. What’s wrong?”
“Shelby’s arm swelled up from a bee sting.” He set his daughter on the exam table.
“Is she allergic?” Jillian asked, getting another cold pack ready.
“I don’t know.” Alec looked worried. “She’s never been stung by a bee before. I figured we needed to come here just in case she needed some epinephrine.”
Smart thinking on Alec’s part. “Hi, Shelby, my name is Dr. Jillian.” The girl’s sobs had quieted to small sniffles. Gently taking Shelby’s arm, she examined the large reddened area right above her elbow. “Do you remember what happened?”
“A bee kept flying near my soda.” Shelby’s tone indicated she despised the creatures. Jillian put the cold pack over the swollen area, trying to gauge if Shelby was showing other signs of an allergic reaction. Her breathing appeared good. “He wouldn’t go away, then the next thing I knew, my arm burned.”
“And you’re sure you’ve never been stung before?” Jillian asked.
“I’m sure.” Shelby’s head bobbed up and down. Her dark brown hair was the exact shade of Alec’s but the similarities stopped there. Shelby had big brown eyes, not sparkling green ones.
“Alec, the epi-sticks are in that right-hand drawer over there. Maybe grab one, just in case.” Jillian held the cold pack on Shelby’s arm, and Alec crossed over, to find the epi-sticks.
She wrapped a comforting arm around Shelby’s shoulders. The little girl sighed and leaned her head against Jillian, as if the whole traumatic experience had worn her out.
Jillian soothed a hand over Shelby’s hair, catching a whiff of baby shampoo. Alec’s daughter was a cutie.
“What do you think?” Alec asked, his brows pulled together in a frown as he brought over the epi-sticks. “Is she allergic?”
“So far, so good.” She flashed him a reassuring smile. Carefully, so as not to dislodge Shelby from resting against her, Jillian lifted the edge of the cold pack to assess the swelling. The reddened area didn’t look any worse. “I don’t think so, but we’d better keep an eye on it for a little while.” Jillian waved a hand at the lollipops. “Do you mind if she has one?”
“No, I don’t mind.” Alec gave his daughter a curious look. “Shel, what flavor would you like? Cherry or grape?”
Shelby lifted
