“You probably don't want a nursing home resident on methotrexate for rheumatoid arthritis with dementia.”
“Is the resident twenty-five and 364 days years old?”
“Actually, I do have someone.” Perkins skimmed the list. “Twenty-five year old African American female, hypothermia post MVA.”
“Anything broken after the car accident?”
“Nope. Non-surgical, supposed to be admitted overnight for obs.”
“She could be a kid if that helps you out,” Lillian offered.
Perkins, for lack of another word, perked up. “Really? Anything would help me out.”
“Cardiac monitors and re-warming all night, right?”
“Yep.” Perkins handed her a chart. “One down, thirty-four to go.”
Lillian took the chart and headed over to Curtain 24, passing several firefighters and a woman in cast. She found the curtained bed space a few curtains past the four trauma rooms.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Hernandez. I’m going to be admitting you to my service for overnight observation. I understand you are Ms. Bianca Lincoln, and you have hypothermia.” Lillian squeezed through the bear hugger inflatable rewarming device and a pile of blankets surrounding the patient.
“That’s me,” the woman said, letting Lillian listen to her heart and lungs. She’d been pretty lucky since she didn’t have any other obvious injuries beyond a forehead bruise. “Does your badge say ‘pediatrics’?”
“Yes, as far as our pediatrics unit is concerned, you are seventeen years, and three thousand days old.”
The woman broke into a dazzling smile, “You're funny. I like that.”
Bianca seemed in pretty good spirits for someone who’d nearly died. "Your chart says you work here at MetroGen?"
"I'm a scrub tech on the sixth floor, which is why I was on the road. Trying to get to work."
"In this weather?"
"I'm the newest hire. I finished my training program six months ago with the Rescue Alpha lady paramedics."
Lillian had heard of Rescue Alpha. There had even been a photo-op a few months ago. Nicole hadn't eased up on her schedule to attend it. What had she said back then? ‘We already have plenty of diversity.’
Pushing the memory of a time when she hadn't spoken up aside, Lillian said, "You could have stayed home. It was good of you to try."
"And also stupidly brave."
"I can see if surgery wants to admit you instead.”
“No way,” Bianca said, shivering. “This’ll be hard enough to live down. I’d rather be in a unit where no one knows me.”
“Cold? The firefighters who brought you in reported you might have been there a few hours. Let me get you some more blankets.”
“I’ll be okay. Aren’t you a doctor? You should be too busy to get blankets.”
“Who cares about getting blankets? We’re so low on transport staff, I might have to push you up to the eighth floor myself.”
Suddenly, the curtain behind them was flung to the side, and a huge bald White man in a ski jacket yelled, “Are you fucking stupid?”
Lillian shrank back and wished Security Guard Murphy had been there. He at least had a taser, though this guy towered over her so he could probably take Murphy apart in five seconds.
Bianca didn’t even flinch. “Good to see you too, Dad.
The man was waving a hand at Bianca. “Do you understand what a Level 3 Snow Emergency means? You could have died, and then who the fuck would scrub into my surgeries, Sunshine?”
