The Sisterhood - Michael Palmer [100]
David’s head lolled back and forth as his consciousness began to return. Panicked, Janet jammed the needle into his arm, hoping for a chance hit in a vein. At that instant Clifford burst into the room. The syringe popped free and slipped from her hand as Janet whirled to the sound. A drop of blood appeared at the puncture site.
“Well, Doctor, I’m back. Sorry to have …” Clifford stopped short, confronted by Janet’s withering glare.
“Damn you,” she hissed, ripping off the tourniquet and quickly retrieving the syringe. Shielding Clifford from view, she squirted the Adrenalin beneath the litter, then turned back to him. “Don’t you know to knock when doors are closed? I was in the middle of drawing blood on this man and you just screwed it up.”
“I … I’m sorry.” The orderly shifted nervously from one foot to the other and stared at the floor.
“You’ll be hearing from me about this,” she spat. Her mind was swirling with thoughts of what to do next. Then she froze. Harry Weiss, the surgical resident, was standing in the doorway.
“Is everything all right?” he asked calmly.
Janet nodded. “I … I didn’t know when someone was going to get in to see Dr. Shelton, here, so I thought I’d draw some bloods on him just to get things started.”
“Thank you. That was good thinking.” Weiss smiled. “If you haven’t drawn them yet, why don’t you wait until I’ve finished taking a look at him.”
“Very well, Doctor.” Janet managed another icy glance at Clifford, then walked from the room before racing to the telephone.
“Dr. Shelton, it’s me, Harry Weiss.” The hawk-nosed resident David had guided through the difficult hand case looked at him anxiously. David’s eyes were open, but he was having obvious difficulty focusing. Weiss leaned closer. “Can you see me all right?”
David squinted, then nodded. Moments later he was struggling to sit up. “Christine. Let me call Christine, he heard himself say. The dizziness began anew, but he battled it, flailing with both hands.
Harry Weiss grabbed his wrists and pushed him back. “Please, Dr. Shelton, I don’t want to have to tie you down,” he begged. He looked about for Clifford as David’s thrashing increased, but the man had left. “Nurse,” he called out, “would someone please get an orderly and a set of four-point restraints in here on the double.”
In less than a minute David was lashed to the litter by leather arm and ankle cuffs. His efforts weakened, giving way to sobs. “Please … just let me find her … just let me call.” His words were unintelligible.
Weiss looked down at him and shook his head sadly. “I think we’re all right now,” he said to the small group who had rushed in to help. “Leave us alone so I can examine him. Call the lab and tell them I want a complete screen and CBC. Have them do a scan for drugs of abuse as well. When I’m finished, start an I.V.—normal saline at three hundred cc’s an hour—at least until we know what’s going on. One of you find out who’s on for psych tonight and let me know. If it’s a good one, we might call him down. If it’s one of those turkeys who’s sicker than the patients, we probably won’t.” The group smiled at his remark, but only the orderly laughed out loud. Harry Weiss shot him a momentary glare, picked up a piece of the shattered thermometer, then said, “And Clifford, when are you going to learn that we never take oral temperatures on someone with hypothermia. It’s too inaccurate. Rectal temps only. I don’t want to hear of your doing that again.” He nodded that his orders were complete and the room quickly emptied.
“Atta boy, Harry,” David wanted to say, but he was unable to get words out. The terror, shock, and hypothermia were taking their toll. Even had the orderly used a rectal thermometer, David’s temperature would not have registered. Still, his eyes were open. He watched as the tall resident