"Let's get that dressing off, ready with pressure on that bleeder, I want two units of O-neg running now."
Hockey gear is cut away, even more than the EMS had done. All of it blood soaked.
I shift out of the way, keeping one eye on Dr. Okafor for when he might prompt me to help or answer a question, and also paying close attention to the next steps of the trauma team. The laceration is deep, maybe eight centimeters long, and it's pulsing, which means arterial involvement. We’re firmly into "this could go very bad very fast" territory.
"Looks like a possible partial transection," Dr. Okafor says, already pulling on sterile gloves. "We need to get him upstairs."
"OR is ready," someone calls out.
"BP's dropping," one of the nurses announces. "90 over 60."
"Let's move, people," Dr. Valdez says. "Get him to OR now.”
Dr. Okafor lifts the railing on the other side of the gurney. “Francesca, you're with me. Keep Leo here company.”
“Hi Leo,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’m a medical student. It’s my job to watch these experts do their thing. They’re really good at it, by the way. You’re in very good hands.” We’re moving fast now. Elevator doors open. In on one. Close. Up we go.
"We were winning," Leo mumbles suddenly.
“What position do you play?”
His eyes flutter closed again.
“I know a bit about hockey,” I tell him. “So maybe I’ll come and see you in recovery and you can tell me more about the game.”
The elevator dings and we're wheeling him into the pre-op area. The trauma surgeon and anesthesiologist are already waiting.
“We can scrub in to observe,” Dr. Okafor says. “If I get paged again, I’ll leave you here if you want to follow this case through.”
I nod. He can’t know how important it is to me that I see Leo safely make it to recovery, but I appreciate it on both a professional and a personal level. We scrub in silence, and I focus on the mechanical motions of it—soap, water, brush under the nails, count to thirty. Don't think about Logan being in a situation like this.
When we enter the OR, Leo’s already under.
"All right," Dr. Okafor says, his voice calm and focused. “Tell me what the trauma team will do to save this guy's leg."
Logan
Made it to New York
And my sister had her baby
A little girl named Natalia
Talia for short
I check on Leo a few times throughout the night. He goes to the ICU first, but by morning, just before I finish my shift, he’s moved to a step down unit.
We round on him last, so when everyone else moves on, I stay back. I can’t help but think about Logan, now ensconced at a New York City hotel.
“You were telling me about the score last night, do you remember that?”
He shakes his head. “I think we won, though.”
“Yeah, you said that.”
“Creative way to steal the win, have an ambulance come interrupt the game while you’re a head.” He taps his temple. “Gotta remember that one.”
I smile. “Glad you’ve got a sense of humor.”
