is the last one. She was trapped between seats. She sustained blunt force trauma to the chest. She threw PVCs the whole way over.’
When the wheels of the stretcher hit the ground and made the turn towards them, Max caught sight of a pale face and blue-tinged lips, despite the oxygen mask over her face. A little girl. Probably two years old. Disposable electrode pads had been adhered to a chest that heaved as she gasped for breath.
‘How bad?’
The paramedic shook his head. ‘Difficulty breathing, pulse ox low as is her BP. And her EKG readings are all over the chart. PVCs, a couple of quick ventricular arrhythmias, but nothing sustained.’
‘Possible cardiac contusion. Let’s get her inside.’
As soon as they ran through the doors, Max glanced at her. ‘We’re going straight to ICU. You’ll have to tell me where to go.’
With Annabelle calling out instructions they arrived on the third-floor unit within minutes. The paramedic had stayed with them the whole time, assisting with moving the stretcher.
They burst through the entrance to the unit, and Max grabbed every staff member who wasn’t already treating someone and motioned them to the nearest empty room. Together they worked to get the girl hooked up to a heart monitor and take her vitals. The child was conscious, her wide eyes were open, and, although there were tears trickling from the corners of her eyes, her struggle to breathe took precedence over crying.
Somehow that just made it worse.
‘We need to intubate, and then I want to get some X-rays and a CAT scan.’
He was hearing some crepitus as she breathed, the popping and crackling sounds as her chest expanded indicative of a possible sternal fracture. It could also explain some of her cardiac symptoms. The faster he figured it out, the better the prognosis.
He leaned down to the child, wishing he at least knew her name. ‘We’re going to take good care of you.’
Within minutes they’d slid a trach tube into place to regulate her breathing. Her cardiac function was still showing some instability, but it hadn’t worsened. At least not yet.
Max was a master of remaining objective during very difficult surgeries. But there was something about children who were victims of accidents that threatened to shred his composure. These weren’t neat put-the-child-to-sleep-in-a-controlled-setting cases. These were painful, awful situations that wrung him out emotionally.
Needing to come home from the Sudan to maintain his certification couldn’t have come at a better time. He’d desperately needed a rest; the abject poverty and suffering he’d seen had taken their toll on him.
And yet here he was, his second day on the job, feeling as if he’d been thrown right back onto the front lines.
Mentally and emotionally.
Annabelle helped him get the girl ready to move to the radiology section, glancing at him as she did. She touched the youngster every chance she got, probably as a way to reassure her. He’d noticed her doing the same thing with Baby Hope.
Those tiny gestures of compassion struck at something deep inside him.
Strands of hair stuck to a face moist with perspiration, and yet Annabelle was totally oblivious to everything except her patient.
Just then, as if she sensed him looking at her, her head came up. Their gazes tangled for several long seconds. Then they were right back at it. Annabelle was evidently willing to set any animosity aside for the benefit of their young patient.
The CT scan confirmed his suspicion. The force of the little girl striking the seat in front of her had fractured her sternum, putting pressure on her heart and lungs. A half-hour turned into an hour, which turned into five as they continued to work the case.
It had to be way past time for Annabelle’s shift to end, but she didn’t flinch as they struggled to stabilise the girl.
Sarah. He’d finally learned her name. And unlike Baby Hope’s mum, or even his own parents—who’d been more angry than concerned when he’d been injured in a bike crash—Sarah’s mum and dad were frantic, desperate for any shred of news.
Annabelle came in from her fifth trip to see them. ‘I told them they could come see her in a few minutes.’
‘Good.’ Sarah was already more comfortable. They’d given her some pain medication, and although she was still on a ventilator they’d be able to wean her off in the next day or two, depending on how much more swelling she had. ‘Why don’t you take a break? Get off your feet for a few minutes.’
‘Sarah needs me. I’ll rest when she does.’
‘Have you eaten today?’
This time she smiled, although the edges of her mouth were lined with exhaustion as she repeated the same thought. ‘I’ll eat when you do.’
If she thought he was calling her weak, she was wrong. She was anything but. Of course, he already knew that. He’d watched Annabelle go to hell and back in her effort to have a child. She was as stubborn as they came. It was one of the things he’d loved most about her, and yet it was ultimately that very thing that had driven them apart.
‘Is that a dinner invitation?’ He cocked a brow at her.
Her smile faded. ‘Of course not. I just meant—’
‘I know what you meant.’ His jaw stiffened. ‘I was joking.’
‘Of course.’ Annabelle began collecting some of the discarded treatment items, not looking at him. It was then he realised how harsh his voice had been. It reminded him of the time he’d finally had enough of the procedures and the heartache. He’d been harsh then too. Very harsh, if he looked back on it now.
Max moved in closer, lifting a hand to touch her arm, then deciding better of it.
‘I’m sorry for snapping at you. I would say chalk it up to exhaustion, but that’s no excuse.’ He could envision this scene repeating itself ad nauseam unless he put a stop to it. ‘Maybe we really should grab a bite when we’re done here. We can figure out how we’re going to work together for the next several months without constantly being at each other’s throats.’
She glanced up at him. ‘I think we can manage to bump into each other now and then without having a meltdown.’
This time the sharpness was on her side.
‘I know we can.’ He took a deep breath and dragged a hand through his hair. ‘Look, I’m trying to figure out how to make this easier on both of us, since I assume neither one of us is going to resign.’
It wasn’t just because of his contract. He’d known for a long time that this day was coming. When he’d have to face his past and decide how to move forward. Maybe that time was now. He could go on putting it off, as he had over the past three years, but this wasn’t Africa where he could just immerse himself in work and not have to see her day after day. They were looking at months of working together. At least.
‘I love my post.’ The sharpness in her voice had given way to a slight tremor.
