The Next Morning
Hank bounded up the porch steps and reached to open the door. Before he could touch the knob, the screen door burst open and Louisa ran out. She bumped into him, almost losing her balance. The Captain grabbed her arm and held her steady. “Where you going in such a hurry?” he asked. “Late for work?”
“No, but I will be if I don't get my butt in gear,” answered his wife. “I left a plate of muffins on the table for your breakfast. See you tonight!” The young woman jumped into her car and sped down the driveway, beeping her horn as she pulled onto the canyon road.
Captain Stanley grinned and went into the house. His mother-in-law, Maria Lopez, smiled at him and got up. “Coffee, Hank? What would you like for breakfast?”
Hank nodded and accepted a steaming mug of the rich brew. “The muffins are fine, Mom,” he replied. “Did Lou leave me a list of chores or can I relax today?”
The Latino woman laughed quietly. “I didn't see one, so I guess you're of the hook. Rough shift?” she asked.
The Captain picked up the newspaper and flipped to the sports section. “Not really; it was fairly quiet for once. Well, except for the phone I got from Vince. My wife didn't happen to tell you what she said to that sergeant, did she?”
“You better ask her that question yourself,” chuckled Maria.
“That bad, huh? I figured that,” answered Hank.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rampart General Hospital
Dixie Brackett smiled brightly when Louisa entered the Emergency Department. “Morning, Louisa,” she greeted. “I heard you tried to break the land speed record yesterday.”
The young woman groaned in mock agony. “How many people know?” she asked.
The nurse leaned forward. “Besides me, Kel, and Joe, no one else that I know of. Johnny and Roy told us about it.”
“I'm surprised they didn't take out a full-page ad in the newspaper,” grumbled Louisa jokingly. “I heard Dr, Morton took some time off. Is he okay?”
“His father had a mild heart attack and Mike wanted to be there for him,” replied Dixie . “Dr. Sunderland is filling in until he gets back. Have you worked with him before?”
“Not that I can remember. Isn't he the same guy who tried to get Roy fired a few years ago?”
“If you're referring to Roy Desoto, yes, I am,” said a voice. “Dr. Terrence Sunderland. Are you Mrs. Stanley? I certainly hope my past experience with Desoto won't be a problem.”
Louisa nodded a greeting and reached out to shake hands with the doctor. “That's right,” she said, disliking him on sight. “I don't let my personal feelings get in the way of doing my job, Doctor.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” replied Sunderland . “How long have you been a nurse, Mrs. Stanley?”
“About a year, and, please, call me Louisa. I also work in the lab when I'm needed.”
Just then, the base station crackled to life. “Rampart, this is Squad 36. How do you read?”
“We read you loud and clear, 36,” rapped the doctor. “Go ahead with your transmission.”
“Rampart, we have a male, age approximately 55 years old, suffering from chest pain. Patient has no prior history of cardiac problems. Vitals are pulse, 68, BP 138/84, respirations, 26 and labored. We are ready to transmit a strip. This will be Lead 2.”
Louisa stood beside Sunderland , writing quickly. The doctor grabbed the strip as it emerged from the machine, biting his lip in concentration. “Patient is showing multiple PVCs, 36. Start an IV with Ringer's Lactate and start a lidocaine drip. Is there an ambulance at the scene?”
“That's affirmative, Rampart. An IV with Ringer's and start a lidocaine drip. Our ETA is approximately fifteen minutes.”
“Acknowledged, 36,” answered Sunderland . “Give me a new set of vitals when you're enroute. Rampart out. Do we have a treatment room set up, Louisa?”
The young woman nodded and handed him the chart she had begun. “Three is ready and waiting.”
“Good. Page me when the paramedics arrive.” He walked away and knocked on Dr. Brackett's office door. A second later, he disappeared inside. “A moment of your time, Doctor?”
Brackett looked up and laid aside the report he was reading. “Certainly. What's on your mind?” he asked.
“Tell me about Louisa Stanley,” replied Sunderland , sitting down. “Is she a competent nurse?”
Kel smiled and folded his hands on the desk. “Extremely competent. In fact, she's one of the best nurses I've ever worked with. Not only is she very intelligent and eager to learn, Louisa worked as an EMT when she lived in Montana .”
“Very interesting,” answered Dr. Sunderland. He jumped up when a page came over the intercom. “Dr. Sunderland to Base Station stat!” He dashed out of the office and slid to a stop near the radio. “What's happening?” he barked.
“Squad 36's patient went into v-fib about ten seconds ago,” answered Louisa. “They've started CPR and are waiting for further instructions.” She pointed to the cardiac monitor.
“Squad 36, this is Rampart. Defib at 300 watt seconds. Hurry, damn it! You're losing him!”
After a few tense moments, Miguel Sanchez's voice replied. “No conversion. We are starting CPR. We are pulling up to the doors now, Rampart.”
Fifteen seconds later, Rick Collins raced by, pushing a gurney. Sanchez was standing on the rails, panting as he applied the chest compressions. As soon as they reached the treatment room, Louisa took his place, her eyes focused on the data scope resting between the man's knees. Sunderland moved past her, charging the defibrillator and snatching up the paddles. “Clear!” he barked. The patient's body arched upward as the electricity shot through his chest. “Sinus rhythm,” he murmured. “Louisa, get me a new set of vitals!”
The young woman complied and said, “Pulse is now 58 and BP is down to 96/52, Doctor. Respiratory arrest!” She bent forward, breathing air into the man's lungs. She leaned back, taking the artificial airway Rick handed her and glanced up, waiting for Sunderland 's approval. She muttered a curse when the monitor blared monotonously, signaling cardiac arrest. After defibrillating three more times, the doctor switched of the machine, shaking his head sadly. “Time of death, 08:43. We did the best we could,” he said softly. “Is his next of kin present, Collins?”
The paramedic swallowed and nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “His wife's in the waiting room,” he whispered.
“Louisa, notify the morgue, if you please. I'll go break the news to his wife.” Sunderland yanked off his gloves and threw them across the room. He almost tore the door of its hinges as he left the room.
Louisa bit her lip and turned off the respirator. “He was so young,” she said to herself, forgetting that Sanchez and Collins were still there. She jumped when Miguel laid his hand on her arm. A tear slid down her cheek before she could wipe it away. “Give me a hand, will you?” she whispered, her voice raw with suppressed emotion.
“Are you all right?” asked Rick. “You want me to call your husband for you?”
“No, thanks anyway,” answered the young woman. “I'll be fine; I'm just a little shook up, that's all.”
After the orderlies had removed the man's body, she cleaned up and left the treatment room. Dr. Sunderland caught her eye and motioned for her to join him as he comforted the patient's wife. “Mrs. Robbins, this is Nurse Stanley. She assisted with your husband's care.”
The woman smiled shakily and extended a hand. “I know you did everything you could,” she said quietly. “Jake's father had a history of heart disease. I begged him to see a doctor when he had chest pains a couple weeks ago, but he just laughed it off.”
Louisa took the seat next to Mrs. Robbins and squeezed her hands in sympathy. “I'm very sorry for your loss,” she murmured. “Is there anyone I can call for you? A family member or a friend perhaps?”
Mrs. Robbins shook her head. “No, all our relatives are back East. Is there someplace I could go to pray?”
The young woman raised a questioning eyebrow at Sunderland . “Come with me and I'll take you to the hospital chapel.” She slid an arm around the woman's shoulders and guided her to the elevator, talking to her in a low voice.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Louisa returned to the ER, Dixie was waiting, a cup of coffee in her hand. She handed the mug to the young woman and steered her into the lounge. “You may say you're fine, but I know better. Come on, talk to me. How are you really doing?”
The young woman smiled thinly. “I never could fool you, Dix,” she answered, taking a sip from her cup. “This isn't the first death I've seen, but for some reason, it hit me harder than I expected. It never ceases to amaze me. One minute, a person is alive and the next, he's gone. No fanfare, no flashing lights, just…nothing. They're dead and there's not a damn thing we can do about it. Mr. Robbins was only fifty-five, too young to die. You know, he was the same age my Papi was when he died.”
“I remember you telling me that,” answered Dixie softly. “The first time I saw a patient die, I burst into tears, right there in the treatment room. It was a little girl about five years old. She had been playing with her friends and fell out of a tree house. She was almost gone when the ambulance brought her in, but we still tried to revive her. Just before she died, she opened her eyes and looked straight at me. She had the most beautiful blue eyes I'd ever seen. For days afterward, I saw her in my dreams. It took me a long time to get over it, too.”
“How did you?” asked Louisa in a whisper, her own eyes huge.
“I had a long talk with the minister at my church,” replied the nurse. “He told me that God had a reason for taking that little girl and nothing I could have done would have prevented her death. It's the same with Mr. Robbins, Louisa. As hard as we try, there are some patients we won't be able to save, not matter what we do. If you take each death personally, you'll never survive or you'll go crazy trying.”
The young woman bowed her head and studied the table top. “My mind knows you're right, but my heart hasn't received the memo yet,” she chuckled. She looked up, a smile stretching her lips. “Thanks, Dix. I feel a lot better now. I guess we should get back to work before Sunderland sends out a search party.”
“He may be a good doctor, but between you and me, he's a bit of a pill,” grinned Dixie . “Anytime you need to talk, I'm here and so is Kel. Don't forget that, and that's an order!” she teased.
“Yes, ma'am,” giggled Louisa. “I'd rather not get one of your lectures. Save them for someone who needs them, like a certain charming paramedic we know and love.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
To her surprise, Dr. Sunderland asked Louisa to join him for lunch. When they were seated in the cafeteria, he revealed his reason for the invitation. “I wanted to thank you for taking the time to sit with Mrs. Robbins this morning,” he said. “It shows that you have the compassion and dedication to be a good nurse, Louisa.”
“Thank you, doctor,” answered the young woman. “That means a lot to me. I know a lot of people can't handle the kind of suffering we see every day, but I consider myself to be a strong woman. If I wasn't, I doubt I'd be here.”
“I understand what you mean,” replied Sunderland . “My father was an orderly during the Second World War. What he saw over there changed him forever. After he came home, he decided that medicine wasn't for him.”
“What did he do after the war?” asked Louisa curiously.
“He became a mortician,” grinned the doctor. “No, I'm joking. He bought land in Kansas and raised wheat. It was a hard life at times, but he loved it. Dr. Brackett told me you used to live in Montana ,” he continued, changing the subject. “What did you do up there?”
The young woman's eyes brightened. “I worked on a horse ranch,” she beamed. “My cousin Antonio worked there, too. My family visited him one summer and I fell in love with the land. Everything was just so open and clean, it was like living in Paradise .”
“What brought you to Los Angeles ?” questioned Sunderland , taking a bite of his sandwich.
“I came down to visit my family,” replied Louisa with a grin. “My Mami and I had a fight before I left home and I hadn't seen her or my brother Marco in almost five years. I didn't even come home for my sister's funeral. I've always regretted that I let my pride hold me back. While I was here, I met the man who ended up being my husband and decided to stay. If I hadn't met him, I probably wouldn't be sitting here right now.”
“Your husband is a Captain in the Fire Department, isn't he?” asked the doctor.
“Uh huh. He works out of Station 51. Roy Desoto and John Gage are on his crew, along with both of my brothers and royal pain in the rear named Chet Kelly.”
Before Sunderland could reply, he and Louisa were paged back to the ER. “No rest for the wicked, I guess,” he joked, pushing away his plate. “Wonder what we have this time.”
“Whatever it is, I can almost guarantee it won't be dull,” laughed the young woman, following him into the elevator.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dixie was standing at the base station, taking a transmission from Station 51. She glanced up when Louisa and Sunderland approached. “It's 51's,” she said. “They're assisting Station 19 with a gang fight down in Compton . Three victims so far, with more still untreated. The first ambulance should be here any minute. Oh, Joe and Kel are on the way, too.”
“Rampart, this is Squad 36. How do you read?”
Louisa picked up a blank stat form and replied. “I read you loud and clear, 36,” she said. “A doctor is on the way. What have you got?”
“Rampart, we have a 17-year-old male with multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen. Pulse is 130 and thready, Bp 92/48, respirations, 12 and shallow. Estimate blood loss at about 1,000 cc's.”
Dr. Early came up behind the young woman and read the stat sheet over her shoulder. “Squad 36, start two IVs, one of Ringer's and the second normal saline. Has the bleeding been controlled?”
“Affirmative, Rampart,” answered the filtered voice of Rick Collins. “One IV of Ringer's and one of normal saline. We will be ready to transport in ten minutes. Ambulance is on scene.”
“10-4, 36. Get him in here,” replied Joe. “Louisa, set up Treatment Two for me. Be ready to type and cross-match for five units.”
“Right away, Doctor,” returned Louisa, already halfway to the treatment rooms.
The first ambulance arrived and Gil Robinson jumped out, pulling the gurney behind him. Sunderland met him and pointed to Treatment One. The doctor and his patient disappeared inside, the door swishing closed behind them.
Fifteen minutes, Squad 36 arrived with their victim. Dr. Early directed them into Treatment Two, smiling when he saw Louisa standing with a needle and syringe in her hand, ready to draw a blood sample. She ignored the injured gang member's angry curse when he felt the needle enter his vein. She handed the vial of blood to a waiting lab technician and waited for Joe to speak.
“Get a new set of vitals,” barked the silver-haired neurosurgeon. He jumped back when the teenager tried to punch him, his eyes full of rage. “Get the Hell away from me, old man!” growled the boy. “You and the broad just leave me be!”
Louisa matched the injured teen's glare. “Knock it off, kid, or I'll give you something to complain about,” she retorted. “If you wanna die, that's your business. Now shut up and let us do our jobs.”
“My name ain't ‘kid', you stupid bitch,” he hissed angrily. “It's Rocco. Do what you gotta do and let me out of this butcher shop. I got things to do.”
“Yeah, I'll bet,” countered Dr. Early. He lifted the bloody bandages covering Rocco's abdomen to examine the wounds. He nodded silently when Louisa gave him the updated vital signs. “Let's get him up to surgery.” He stepped away from the gurney and opened the door, waving to a pair of orderlies standing in the hall.
“Didn't you hear what I said, Grandpa?!?” yelled Rocco, his face contorting with fury. “I told you, man! I ain't staying here!” He slid his hand into his pocket and came out with a pearl-handled switchblade. He sat up, yanking the IV needles from his arms. Louisa gasped when she saw the knife and backed away, her eyes wide with fear. The teenager grinned evilly and plunged the blade into her chest, ignoring the blood spurting from his perforated veins. The young woman screamed in pain and collapsed on the floor, the front of her uniform turning bright red.
The neurosurgeon whipped around, his jaw dropping in shock. Rocco raised the knife and moved it back and forth in a slow arc. “Move out of the way, Pops,” he spat. “Don't make me kill you.”
“Just relax, son,” said Joe, never taking his eyes off the bloody switchblade. “No one's going to hurt you.” The door leading to the next treatment room opened a crack and a uniformed police officer slipped inside. His hand dropped to his service revolver and he drew the weapon as quietly as he could. “Drop the knife, buster!” he shouted, his finger on the trigger.
The gang member paused for an instant before he darted forward , intent on stabbing Early. A shot rang out and he froze, a bloody hole in his side. The switchblade fell to the floor with a clatter and Rocco collapsed, his eyes rolling back in his head. He twitched for a few seconds then lay still.