I hold out my fake Nessie and snap a terrible photo of it (her?) with the lake in the background. This is a missed opportunity if I’ve ever seen one, but I can’t do any better. I’m an hour and a half from my car. More, if I start feeling worse.
A fresh wave of heat hits me, and I stare down at the cool grass, contemplating lying down. Perhaps a rest is what I need. Something tells me, though, that I need to get moving.
The scramble down the rocks becomes exponentially harder as I grow weaker. When I reach the previously neat andinteresting ladder, it takes all my strength to climb over. By that point, the hike flattens substantially and I should feel relieved, but I’m suddenly very cold. I pause to put my long-sleeved shirt back on and take a sip of water. I’m not sure if it will be helpful or not, but water always seems like the right thing to do.
I throw up a little bit. So considerthatmystery solved. Water is not always the answer.
Why are there no other people here today? There’s no strapping young lad to help me the rest of the way down the hill. Did they all get together and decide today isn’t the day for hiking? Obviously, they were right.
I’m beginning to shake as I pass by the gate and the last of the ferns, and finally see my rental car. It’s been over two hours, and my body is about to give out.
There’s no service here. Nothing to do but drive until I can call someone.
I allow myself five minutes to rest in the car. I lean the seat back and close my eyes. The pain has moved to my lower right side and it’s sharper. I’ve never experienced anything like this.
When my time is up, I drive toward civilization like a great-grandmother in an ice storm. I make it to Drumnadrochit and park at a church where I finally have service. I call 999. Things have escalated. I can’t just go back to the cottage and sleep. That’s not going to fix whatever I have going on here.
I’m not sure how long I lie in my car waiting for anambulance, but it feels like an eternity. I’m on the edge of consciousness when a woman shows up at my door. Everything from there is a blur.
8
Malcolm
“Twenty-eight-year-oldfemale,suspectedappendicitis.She’d been hiking, and we picked her up in Drumnadrochit. She was in and out with pain and exhaustion during transport. She’s had one litre of saline.”
Rory directs the medics to roll the trolley into room two while I pull on gloves. As I walk toward her, I look at her face to check her coloring.
“Makenna!”
“Makenna, is it?” Rory looks at me with raised eyebrows.
“I know her. I mean, I met her.” She looked good last night. Perfectly healthy. But if this is appendicitis, that makes sense. It comes on quickly.
She wakes groaning, and curls in on herself. I lean over,trying to get in her line of sight, but I can tell she’s not really seeing me. “Makenna, I’m gonna press on your abdomen.”
I examine her as quickly and gently as I can. Still, the noises she makes break my heart.
“Her temp is 101, and her B.P. is 80/55,” Rory says.
I watch Elsie finish the blood draw and head toward the lab.
“Let’s get her to C.T., but go ahead and call the O.R.,” I tell Rory. “Tell them to prepare for an appendectomy.”
When the need for surgery is confirmed by bloodwork and C.T. scan, I accompany Makenna upstairs where, thankfully, our best general surgeon awaits. He quickly assesses her and her results and agrees she needs surgery now. I stand outside the operating room for a moment, feeling stressed. I say a quick prayer for her safety and healing, then remember she has celiac disease. I unlock my tablet, add it to her chart, then head back to the E. D.
Rory’s on me as soon as he sees me. “Where have you been, man? Elsie and Cat have been on me again about dating Cat’s granddaughter. Why aren’t they after you?”
“They gave up and switched to you when you started working here.” I sit down in the chair next to Rory. “I went up to see Makenna to surgery.”
“Special treatment for this mysterious Makenna.” Rory pumps his eyebrows up and down.
“Not special,” I say, knowing full well that I wouldn’ttypically stay so long upstairs, I’d have been back down here moving on to my next patient. But, apart from Makenna, the E.D. has been quiet today, so I had the time. And, yes, I feel a small amount of responsibility for her, but that’s it.
“Uh-huh. So how do you know this girl?”
“I met her last night. She was eating dinner at the pub. You could have met her if you’d shown up, ya nyaff.”
“Hey. I can’t come to all your shows.”
