in the room were a mixture of the electronic beeping, the cycling of respirators, muted voices of the nurses, and a low hum of powerful HVAC motors keeping the air in the room clean and cool.
Right behind Lynn, a gurney came crashing through the swinging doors, bringing in a fresh post-op patient and making Lynn jump out of the way. An OR nurse was pulling at the front. In the back was an anesthetist pushing while making sure that the patient’s breathing was not being compromised. A nurse from behind the central desk came around to help guide the gurney alongside an empty bed.
As the patient was efficiently moved from the gurney onto the bed, Lynn took a quick loop around the room, trying not to be conspicuous. None of the staff seemed to notice her. Carl was not there. She would have recognized him immediately. There were two peoplewho had had knee surgery with CPM machines to keep their knees constantly flexing and extending. Neither was Carl.
Confused and not knowing exactly what to do, Lynn wandered over to the counter facing the central desk. She assumed she would soon be challenged, but felt it no longer made a difference. If Carl was not in the PACU or on the fifth floor, then where the hell was he? And why was he not on the orthopedic floor? There were beds available, according to Hank. Of course maybe Carl had been finished so soon that it was before the beds on five were ready. Hank had said that they had been vacated just that morning. Lynn felt that had to be the explanation. Yet the ongoing mystery was starting to upset her, fanning the subliminal tension she had felt upon awakening that morning, the same tension that had made her laugh so hard at Ronald’s off-color joke about the angel.
“Can I help you?” a voice questioned.
Lynn turned to face a PACU nurse almost as tall as she. The nurse was gowned over her scrubs. She regarded Lynn with a questioning, steady gaze.
“I hope so,” Lynn said. “I’m looking for Dr. Weaver’s first case. A man named Carl Vandermeer.”
“And who are you?” The woman’s voice wasn’t challenging or truculent, just authoritative.
“I’m Lynn Peirce, a medical student. I did a rotation in orthopedics and scrubbed with Dr. Weaver.” It was the first thought that came to her mind. It wasn’t a real explanation, but it sounded good.
The nurse eyed Lynn for a moment, then went behind the desk. “The name is not familiar to me,” she said. She took a quick look at the PACU log and found it. “He was Gloria’s case,” she said to Lynn, and then called loudly across the room. “Gloria! What was the dispensation of the Vandermeer case?”
“The neuro consult guys took him to the neuro ICU,” Gloria called back.
Lynn reached out and grabbed onto the edge of the desk to help support herself. The neuro ICU! What the hell did that mean? As she turned and fled from the PACU, she tried not to think. The problem was that she had a pretty good idea of what it meant for Carl to be in the neuro ICU.
4.
Monday, April 6, 11:05 A.M.
L ynn was in a hurry. It was a way to avoid thinking. Without bothering to change back to her street clothes, she went directly to the main elevators, where a number of people were waiting. To avoid the possibility of getting into a conversation, she avoided any eye contact, keeping her attention glued to the floor indicators above the elevator doors. Nervously she continuously pressed the up button. None of the cars appeared to be moving up or down.
“That’s not going to get the elevator here any faster,” a woman said. Lynn closed her eyes, hoping that by not responding she would be spared having to try to be pleasant while her mind was in turmoil. There was nothing about Carl being in the neuro ICU that could be good news, and it was difficult not to imagine the worst.
“You are a fourth-year med student, if I’m not mistaken,” the voice said, undeterred by Lynn’s silence.
Reluctantly Lynn turned to face the woman. As
Right behind Lynn, a gurney came crashing through the swinging doors, bringing in a fresh post-op patient and making Lynn jump out of the way. An OR nurse was pulling at the front. In the back was an anesthetist pushing while making sure that the patient’s breathing was not being compromised. A nurse from behind the central desk came around to help guide the gurney alongside an empty bed.
As the patient was efficiently moved from the gurney onto the bed, Lynn took a quick loop around the room, trying not to be conspicuous. None of the staff seemed to notice her. Carl was not there. She would have recognized him immediately. There were two peoplewho had had knee surgery with CPM machines to keep their knees constantly flexing and extending. Neither was Carl.
Confused and not knowing exactly what to do, Lynn wandered over to the counter facing the central desk. She assumed she would soon be challenged, but felt it no longer made a difference. If Carl was not in the PACU or on the fifth floor, then where the hell was he? And why was he not on the orthopedic floor? There were beds available, according to Hank. Of course maybe Carl had been finished so soon that it was before the beds on five were ready. Hank had said that they had been vacated just that morning. Lynn felt that had to be the explanation. Yet the ongoing mystery was starting to upset her, fanning the subliminal tension she had felt upon awakening that morning, the same tension that had made her laugh so hard at Ronald’s off-color joke about the angel.
“Can I help you?” a voice questioned.
Lynn turned to face a PACU nurse almost as tall as she. The nurse was gowned over her scrubs. She regarded Lynn with a questioning, steady gaze.
“I hope so,” Lynn said. “I’m looking for Dr. Weaver’s first case. A man named Carl Vandermeer.”
“And who are you?” The woman’s voice wasn’t challenging or truculent, just authoritative.
“I’m Lynn Peirce, a medical student. I did a rotation in orthopedics and scrubbed with Dr. Weaver.” It was the first thought that came to her mind. It wasn’t a real explanation, but it sounded good.
The nurse eyed Lynn for a moment, then went behind the desk. “The name is not familiar to me,” she said. She took a quick look at the PACU log and found it. “He was Gloria’s case,” she said to Lynn, and then called loudly across the room. “Gloria! What was the dispensation of the Vandermeer case?”
“The neuro consult guys took him to the neuro ICU,” Gloria called back.
Lynn reached out and grabbed onto the edge of the desk to help support herself. The neuro ICU! What the hell did that mean? As she turned and fled from the PACU, she tried not to think. The problem was that she had a pretty good idea of what it meant for Carl to be in the neuro ICU.
4.
Monday, April 6, 11:05 A.M.
L ynn was in a hurry. It was a way to avoid thinking. Without bothering to change back to her street clothes, she went directly to the main elevators, where a number of people were waiting. To avoid the possibility of getting into a conversation, she avoided any eye contact, keeping her attention glued to the floor indicators above the elevator doors. Nervously she continuously pressed the up button. None of the cars appeared to be moving up or down.
“That’s not going to get the elevator here any faster,” a woman said. Lynn closed her eyes, hoping that by not responding she would be spared having to try to be pleasant while her mind was in turmoil. There was nothing about Carl being in the neuro ICU that could be good news, and it was difficult not to imagine the worst.
“You are a fourth-year med student, if I’m not mistaken,” the voice said, undeterred by Lynn’s silence.
Reluctantly Lynn turned to face the woman. As
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