The crash-cart confessional. Entry for comp #2- by Walker.

[Walker]

                                       The crash-cart confessional
                                                   Elliot Quinn

"His name's Adrian Cane, fifty-three years old. He came in at 11:30pm, his wife's been called. Doctor, this is his second coronary this month."

The doctor looked at Nurse Atkins, studying her expression,
"His second attack this month...man, what's this guy been up to? Is he in ER?"

The nurse nodded,
"Here's the file, it has his last scans."

The doctor took the file and stuck the negatives onto the back-lit display,
"Oh boy, this poor guy's heart is a mess. He doesn't need a by-pass; he needs a new unit."

"That's not an option, doctor, he's not on the waiting list and, even if he were, there aren't any donors available."

"Alright, Veronica, prep him for imaging and we'll get an up-date on these scans; see what this guys chances are."

The doctor disappeared from the room while Atkins assembled the file and tucked it into the slot marked ER-one. Slipping through the doors, with the monitor sounding weakly aside the waning life of Adrian Cane, the nurse began washing her hands.

Suddenly, the heart monitor hiccupped and launched into a frenzy of staccato noise as Cane's body lurched and tensed up on the examination table.

Atkins slammed the intercom button,
"Code blue, ER-one! Code blue, ER-one!"

Within seconds a bevy of nurses streamed into the room with the doctor trailing behind.

"He's crashing again, doctor!"

Webb pushed his way to the side of Canes convulsing body,
"Power the crash-cart and prep the paddles!"

Peter Webb grabbed the lubricated paddles. The crash-cart began to whine an escalating hum as the coils built up a massive dose of energy.

"Clear!"

Cane's body jumped from the infusion of electricity. The monitor screamed a steady tone.

"More!"

The nurse dialled the machine higher and the whine intensified again.

"Clear!"

Cane's body tensed and jumped again. The heart monitor skipped, and then resumed a weak, sporadic beat.

"Veronica, check his vitals. Nurse Webster, bring the portable scan, we don't have time to move him."

Webster spun and exited the room while Nurse Atkins held Cane's wrist and studied her watch. Webb had his stethoscope on Canes chest and two other nurses scurried around the room, unsure where to turn next. Atkins secured the blood-pressure cuff over Cane's arm and hit the auto switch.

"Arrhythmia's not settling. Veronica?"

"Pulse is weak and irregular...pressure is 200 over 90 and holding...for now"

The doctor released a heavy breath and turned to the other nurses,
"Ok, you two can assist in the other ER, Veronica and I will take care of Cane. Don't go far, we might need you soon."

Webster pushed the doors open with the cumbersome machine, slid it over Canes limp body, and everyone cleared the room while the x-rays shot through the patient. Re-entering the room, Webster tugged on the machine and headed back through the doors, dragging the leviathan behind her.
"I'll have them ready in ten minutes, doctor. I'll bring them up as soon as they're developed."

Peter Webb sighed and managed a faint smile,
"Thanks, nurse Webster, you know where to find me."

Blip......blip...blip...........blip.

"Ok, Veronica, I'll be back in a few minutes. Can you handle this?"

Atkins looked at the doctor and he chuckled at his own words. After twenty years Veronica Atkins could handle anything this hospital threw at her- she was a warrior. It was the young doctor who could crumble at any moment, but, so far, he was holding it all together. The ER doors swung shut behind him as he left.

Adrian Cane's eyelids twitched and opened slightly. It was 12:02am. Nurse Atkins gently held his hand.

At 12:15am Peter Webb entered ER-one, the fresh x-rays holding his attention as he deciphered the negative images,
"I don't know, Veronica, Cane's heart is...Veronica? Are you alright?"

She lifted her head, revealing her red-haloed eyes, still clutching the unconscious Adrian Cane's hand. It was obvious she'd been weeping.

Webb eased up to the table, standing across from the nurse as she spoke,
"I want you to listen to me, Peter, and I want you to listen good."

The doctor had never seen her like this in his six months at her capable side,
"Ok, Veronica...I'm listening"

"Cain was coherent for a few minutes just after you left. I want you to hear what he told me."

"Ok..."

Atkins stared hard into the doctors eyes and began speaking,
"Cane...Adrian, knows what we already know- he won't make it more than a couple of days."
Atkins rubbed her eyes and continued,
"Last year his only child, his twenty-eight year old daughter, died from ALS. He and his wife spent their whole life savings trying to beat the disease, now they're destitute. Last month he lost his job and he didn't have the nerve to tell his wife. He said he had hoped to find more work before she found out, but it didn't happen. He had to use the money for his life insurance premium for living expenses, instead."

"You're telling me he's not insured?"

"Not since about fifteen minutes ago, Peter, his policy ran out at midnight. His wife doesn't even know. Adrian is her only living family and, without him, she's alone. Peter...do you know what's worse than being alone in this world?"

The doctor didn't interrupt, aware the question was rhetorical.

"Being alone and broke, that's what."

"I know, Veronica, but what can we do? I feel for the guy, and his wife, really I do, but what are we supposed to do?"

Without shifting her gaze, Atkins reached into her pocket and procured a small glass vial. The doctor seemed confused and then, horrified, he understood her plan- digoxin.
"You can't be serious? Good god, Veronica, do you know what you're suggesting?! If anyone ever found out, it would be the end of both our careers! We're here to save lives, not take them!"

"Don't tell me what our job is, Doctor, I know full well what our professional obligations are! I also know that we both went into medicine to help people...right?"

The doctor was stunned, still reeling from the effects of her request,
"But Veronica..."

"Listen, Peter, we save the lives of madmen and fools everyday, but how often do we bring lasting peace to someone who really deserves it? Every morning when we wake up, from this day on, we'll both have to look in the mirror and ask ourselves the same question- 'did I really make a difference, or was there more I could have done?' I don't know about you, but I couldn't live with myself if I knew there was more I could have done. You want to make a difference? Right now is your chance; we can salvage what's left of this family or we can walk away. Either way, we decide right now."

Webb turned and started for the door.

"Peter...please, I'm asking you as a friend. Please help me with this, I can't do it alone."

The doctor hung his head in thought, then turned and looked at Veronica,
"What's your plan?"

"I'm doing inventory during tomorrows shift, before my day off. This vial is going to be re-filled with water and then it's going to have an accident. The cleaning crew will be called and they'll eliminate the evidence without there ever being any question of what happened. We keep it in the same cabinet with the adrenaline, and sometimes accidents happen when we have to hurry...don't they?"

"Yes...sometimes."

The nurse took a clean syringe, drawing out the vials contents. Looking hard at the doctor, she handed him the needle and held out the intravenous line, exposing the injection-joint in the tube. Hesitantly, Webb forced the needle through the stopper and froze, unable to muster the courage to go through with it.

Blip....blip...blip............blip.

She looked deep into the doctor's eyes and took his hands. Without speaking, she steadied his hand with her own and used her free hand to push his thumb down on the plunger. Their eyes still locked, she spoke quietly,
"We're in this together, Peter, remember that."

The nurse took the spent syringe from Webb's hand and, at the sink, drew some water, filled the empty vial and deposited the syringe into the sharps container on the wall. She stood beside the drug cabinet, extended her arm and watched the vial of water smash on the cold tile floor.

Webb was shaking and visibly stunned. Never in his life had he prepared himself for this much reality. The nurse returned to the table and the heart monitor began to slow as the light in Cane's dying heart flickered out. 12:28am.
"I'll call the cleaning crew, doctor."

She looked expectantly at Webb,
"Peter...you have to make it official."

"Right...yes...umm...Adrian Cane, 53 year old male. Death due to massive heart failure..."

Veronica looked at Peter and a slight smile crossed both their lips,
"Yes...?"

He straightened his back, suddenly confident,
"Official time of death...11:59pm."

End.


© copyright Elliot Quinn

[Ed]

   Hmmm...nasty, but nice

Thanks for entering, Walker.  Good luck

[Neuromancer]

Nice story.  Could really use a shot of that stuff right now.

Good to read a story about doctors bwing human, even though they seem to be very impersonal in the hospitol.  A side effect on working in that field I guess.

[SallyQ]

Hi Walker
That's a very well-written and thought-provoking story. I could see that as an episode or ER or Chicago Hope (my personal favourite!).

Sally

[Walker]

Thank you Sally. Much appreciated. 

[JoyceCarter]

A good read, Walker!  I like the link you make between physically cleaning, and the nurse taking on the responsibility of cleaning up a life situation.