“Rogue River!” I hollered. “Rogue River, 344.” I tried again, but nothing.
“Boys.” My voice cut through the silence and bounced back to me.
I’m trapped inside the walls of some dark place and I have no idea how I came to be here.
The sky splintered with shards of amber light, bullets screamed through the thick black of night. My hand reached for the letters in my breast pocket. Letters fromher. Pulling one from its special place next to my heart, I pressed it to my lips. I inhaled her scent. Her words. Just her. She was my lifeline in a world of hate and greed. She was the one who takes the God-awful screams from my head at night when I was alone with the guilt and memories of the men of war.
Shame washed over me. My mother would hate that this is where I was, this is what I had become. A shell of a man killing for his country.
CHAPTER TWO
Gracie-May
Isat in a chair giving the changeover report for Intensive Care, the unit I was in charge of. Some of our patients had been with us for a couple of days, but the man whose file I held in my hands, had not long arrived.
He had come to us by way of emergency surgery after being evacuated out of Iraq, they’d had no choice but to bring him home to New Zealand, even though it endangered his life. Once they’d stabilized him in the sadly lacking hospital, the doctors had made the call to send him to us rather than to a country nearby. I didn’t fully understand why, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened and probably wouldn’t be the last.
“Lieutenant Kaden James came into the hospital on base at Rogue river at 1900 hours with severe injury's sustained from an IED to the Humvee his unit was traveling in. He’s the team leader and lost two men in the attack.”
I took a deep breath.
“His injuries include a fractured skull and some damage to the brain tissue, which we won’t have full understanding of until he’s awake. Due to the pressure of the extreme blast, the brain sustained impact against the side of the skull, swelling and bruising is evident. Doctors have inserted a shunt and he is being administered Hypertonic Saline.”
I glanced down at the notes before continuing.
“He has sustained four broken ribs, a ruptured eardrum, lacerations to the face, arms, legs, torso and back. He has severe burns to the left side of his body and his lungs collapsed on route. A breathing tube was inserted and he is currently being kept in an induced coma. His left tibia and fibula sustained serious breaks and an open reduction was performed in surgery this afternoon, several screws are in place and a brace was fitted. The rotator cuff in his right shoulder had extensive shrapnel damage and was also repaired. Shrapnel was removed from large areas of his body, dicloxacillin is being administered to prevent infection.”
I closed the file and looked at the nurses and registrars who were coming on shift.
“This man has been through hell and is very lucky to be alive. As usual, I expect he will be given the very best of our care and respect. I will tolerate nothing less. Fifteen-minute observations are to be strictly adhered to until further notice and I expect to be notified of any change immediately.”
The nurses stood and filed quietly from the monitoring station to attend to their duties. My heart broke for the young man who lay fighting for his life in Bed 3. I knew from experience, as well as clinical injuries, this man would continue to wage an internal battle for many years to come.
He would be fighting much more than the impact of an IED to his Humvee in the dark of night. I could already see it in the way his face contorted, his breathing quickened and his body spasmed. Rigid one moment, arched from the bed, before becoming slack moments later. The soldier was fighting against being kept in the dark, but he needed to remain under until some of the swelling on his brain had receded. He needed time to begin healing.
“Are you ready to leave, Gracie-May," Dr. Andrews asked me as he crossed to the monitors and checked the readings.
“No, I’ll stay for a while. I have notes to finish and I need to try and find Lieutenant James’ family.”
I rolled my chair closer to the desk where I was seated, a stack of files before me. The morning sun filtered through one of the windows where the blinds head been slightly opened.
“You’ve been here all night on a ten-hour shift, Gracie. If you don’t rest, you’ll be no good to anyone and we need you. You’re well aware, if something is going to go wrong, it has a habit of happening during the night. It’s why you’re so valuable. You have as much knowledge as any of the doctors here, I’ve lost count of the patients who owe you their lives. We can’t afford to lose you to illness.”
His words hung between us, I knew what he was saying was right, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I felt a connection with the soldier which was unexplainable and I needed to ensure his family was found. I couldn’t bare to see him alone, with no-one.
I peered over the patient noticeboard to where the soldier lay motionless in the bed. A nurse was checking his vital signs, flicking the small penlight torch across his pupils before lowering his eyelids. There had obviously been no response.”
I gazed up at the doctor. “Here is where I need to be, Chris.”
His nose crinkled up and his brows furrowed. “It's hopeless isn't it? I'm wasting my breath telling you to leave, aren’t I?”
I pulled the end of my pen from my mouth, chewing it was a bad habit of mine. “You know it.” I winked at him and a smile curved his mouth.
“You care too much, Gracie, it’s what makes you the best nurse Rogue River has ever had.”
My cheeks heated. Chris was a passionate and dedicated doctor. He really was amazing at his job, extremely handsome and knew it. Women dropped at his feet around here and he loved it.
I watched the duty nurse, a new girl, checking something on an iPad. It wasn’t something I approved of, but it seemed more and more nurses and doctors relied on the damn things. Details on each patient were recorded on a central laptop at the nurses’ station, but up to the moment notes, were recorded the old-fashioned way – in a paper file kept in a metal holder at the end of each bed.
