“If you ignore the spitting, hissing, and swearing, you could hear he was actually saying ‘Bianca, I was worried about you because I care about you and value you.’ See. There he is.”
Glazier stalked by and dropped four blankets on the bed. He didn’t even pause.
“Aww. I think.” Lillian was very glad she didn’t hang out anywhere near Ortho. This month she had learned bossy guys held very little attraction for her.
“It’s cute—like a cat bringing you a dead mouse so you know it loves you.”
“Dead mouse. Umm?” Lillian shook out the blankets.
“I ought to stop watching Animal Planet between cases.”
The phone on Lillian’s belt rang, and she said before answering, “No TV for me today. This is Dr. Hernandez.”
“We need you upstairs in L and D. Neo is tied up, and they’re doing a C-section of a 20-weeker in the OR.” It was a nurse from L and D.
“A what?!” The only way they’d be doing a C-section before the baby could survive meant a mom was on the brink of dying, and there hadn’t been anyone on the board fitting that description.
“Dr. Morgan is in the OR. She wants to know if she should resuscitate.”
“No. Comfort care only.” Lillian turned to face the busy scene behind her in the ER. No one ever wanted to say it couldn't be done, but the chance of survival was zero. The staff in every section of the hospital was pushed to the brink, she couldn’t spend the time and resources on futile causes.
“Are you sure?” the nurse asked.
Lillian gritted her teeth. Must every single person question her clinical judgment? Hard calls hurt, but someone had to make them, and that someone today was her. “We can’t save anything before 23-weeks. Am I clear?”
“Yes, doctor.”
Lillian rapidly clicked the admission button, which requested transport for Ms. Lincoln. By the time she sprinted upstairs, she was already too late.
The second she badged to L and D, she knew. There was only one nurse at the front desk, which meant they’d stripped the rest of the staff to be in the OR. Peds often went from the nursery into the OR since the four C-section rooms were situated between the nursery and the back hallways to the NICU.
She slowed down to a walk when she entered the nursery. The lights were off and a man sat alone in the corner of the room, head down. He wore the ‘bunny suit’ of a C-section visitor and held a motionless small bundle in his arms.
The lack of nursing staff in the nursery spoke volumes. The hospital required a nurse always be present when there was a single live baby in the nursery.
Rather than intrude on his private moment as a total stranger, she went through the next door to the attending work room between the nursery and the ORs. She found Clarissa and the medical student Doug ransackingthe Toys for Tots box which had recently began collecting donations in the hallway by the entrance to Labor and Delivery.
“What are you guys doing?”
“We couldn’t find any baby clothes small enough,” Clarissa answered, a strange frightening smile plastered on her face.
Doug didn't appear to be in good shape. “So small. And so much blood.”
“This one might work.” Clarissa found a box containing small baby doll in blue and ripped it open, tossing the empty box toward Doug.
The med student turned green and grabbed the empty box barely in time to retch out the contents of his stomach.
“Why don’t you go to the scrub room and clean yourself up?” Lillian suggested.
“Actually, catch a nap. Nothing else is on the board.” Clarissa waved him away without checking his progress.
He fled with his box and left Lillian alone with Clarissa. “Dr. Morgan, are you okay?”
“I'm fine. These things happen.” Clarissa deftly removed the baby doll clothes and tossed the doll in the trash. “Sorry about the mess.”
“I don’t care about the mess. What happened?”
“Crash C-section under general anesthesia on a woman from antepartum. She’d been on bedrest of two weeks because her placenta accreta kept bleeding. They thought it was under control until she started hemorrhaging this morning. Twenty weeks along. It was a boy.”
