Page 6 of Burning Obsession

"That was a rough call," he says quietly, his voice cracking.

I don't answer right away.

Because he's right. Last night's cardiac arrest hasn't left either of us. He was an older man who collapsed in front of his wife and grandchildren after making it out of their family home.

We had to have done CPR for thirty minutes with no positive result before we finally had to call time of death.

He was gone. Just like that.

But he died knowing his family was safe, and I honestly don’t think the man would’ve wanted it any other way. I know I wouldn’t.

"It was," I finally say.

Potts lifts his hands, rubbing them roughly against his forehead as if he’s trying to erase the memory.

"I keep thinking..." he starts, and I already know where he’s going with his thoughts. Like I said, I’ve been there before and I see myself in Potts.

"You need to leave it here."

He looks over at me, eyebrows lifted, clearly confused by what I said. "What?"

"Leave it at the house."

He frowns.

"I can't just—"

"No. Listen to me. You have to." I point toward his chest. "If you carry every person we lose home with you…" I let out a heavy sigh. "You'll eat yourself alive."

His shoulders slump. "I just..."

"No." I cut him off before he can finish the sentence. "There wasn't anything else you could've done."

He opens his mouth to speak, but I’m not done. He needs to hear what I have to say.

"You did everything right. The proper compressions, the right dosage and amount of medications. You shocked him. You worked that call exactly how you were trained to do."

He looks down at the concrete floor of the bay before letting his head fall back, and looking up at the ceiling.

"But…” He lets out a low growl of frustration.

"There isn't a but." My voice stays calm. I don’t want him to think I’m being harsh. Potts just needs to understand that he did all he could. "Sometimes people die."

The words never feel good coming out. They aren’t supposed to. No one wants to think about the finality of death or that we didn’t do enough to keep some here on this earthly plane with us.

They aren't supposed to.

"But that's not the same thing as you failing."

Silence settles between us.

Finally, Potts lets out one long breath.

"I get that. I really do, Lawson. It’s just I can’t get his wife and grandchildren out of my head. The look on her face killed me. Made me think of my grandparents in this same situation."

"I know,” I tell him. “You’re not the only one. We’ve all been there. Still find ourselves there at times. But we’ve learned to separate ourselves from it. To accept we can only do as much as we can.”

"I keep hearing her crying,” he says softly, a slight hitch in his voice, and I know he’s fighting back tears.