I shake my head, missing the feeling of my long earrings that ought to brush against my neck when I do, but I can’t wear them at work. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself.’
For months I’ve been preparing for this day. I know how to deal with stress, how to stay calm even when everything around me is in chaos. If I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t work here and couldn’t do what I’m passionate about.
Now he smiles as well. ‘Good. How’s the girl with the tibia fracture doing?’
‘The colleagues from pediatrics are about to pick her up,’ I reply. ‘Fortunately, the additional X-rays of her hip, spine, pelvis, and the entire leg axis were unremarkable.’
‘You ordered additional images?’ He tilts his head to the side and looks at me searchingly.
Of course. ‘The little one fell off a climbing frame; I had to check her musculoskeletal system for hairline fractures to be on the safe side.’
He briefly furrows his brow. ‘You were more than thorough there.’
‘You can never be too careful.’ Which is why I’ll also recommend a CT scan in the emergency report—better safe than sorry. X-rays simply can’t make every problem visible.
‘She’s in the best hands in pediatrics,’ he replies, and I can’t shake the feeling that he’s trying to reassure me.
‘Absolutely,’ I say, thinking of my roommate Autumn, who’s having her first day there tomorrow. Who knows, maybe she’ll be the one to continue treating the girl. ‘I’ll get the paperwork for the little one done, then.’
After my boss nods in agreement, I turn away.
‘Oh… Dr. Moore, one more thing,’ my boss calls after me. ‘A few of us are going out for a drink later. Will you come along?’
In five minutes, the colleagues from the evening shift will be here, then this unscheduled stint in the ER will be done. My body has held up; as soon as Dr. Franks and I have caught up on the introductory meeting, I really should go home and rest.
I turn back to him. ‘I can’t today,’ I reply deliberately casually, even though my muscles tense up at the mere thought of going out. At some point it will be possible, hopefully, but not today.
On the way to the doctors’ room, I take several deep breaths. As I pass the coordination desk, the two double doors that lead outside suddenly swing open. With a rush of fresh air,three employees in paramedic uniforms come in, together with doctors and nurses from the ER who must have been waiting outside for the ambulance to arrive.
‘Male patient, 30 years old, unconscious, fever, severe abdominal pain,’ reports the man with jet-black hair and five-day stubble, whose dark blue paramedic uniform is covered in wood shavings and dust. ‘He collapsed in a shed.’
I step aside to make room for the team. Something tells me that this paramedic doesn’t notice me. He’s too focused on what he’s doing.
Quickly he pushes the stretcher farther down the corridor, his expression concentrated, his muscles tense. ‘Temperature 39 Celsius, pulse 130, blood pressure 80 over 53, respiratory rate 27. Ringer’s lactate infusion is running.’
He passes me, and a mix of wood scent and aftershave wafts into my nose. I don’t even really know why I do it, but I watch him go.
Wait a second.
Is that blood on the back of his head?
‘No abnormalities en route, condition poor but stable,’ he now informs the attending physician.
I catch up with him. And in fact, he has a laceration, quite a large one, actually.
‘Trauma room three is ready,’ someone calls. An orderly runs ahead and opens the doors.
The team pushes the gurney inside. ‘Suspected appendicitis, possibly perforated.’ His deep voice is full of emphasis.
Suspected diagnoses from paramedics are actually not part of the handover. He should be focusing on the facts; the doctors are responsible for diagnosis and treatment. Besides, he doesn’t even seem to notice that he himself is injured. With a peculiar mix of fascination and incomprehension, I watch as he now also refuses to leave the room, even though the handover is finished.
‘Thanks, we’ll take care of him.’ An orderly steps up beside him with a warning look.
Now the blond paramedic grabs his injured colleague’s arm and pulls him out of the room. ‘Come on, Jaden, we’ve got a lot to do.’
So the guy’s name is Jaden. Is he new to his job and hasn’t internalized the procedures yet? Or is there another reason why he’s having such a hard time tearing himself away from the patient?
The doctor gives the first instructions for further treatment, an orderly closes the doors to the trauma room. As if a storm had just swept through and then suddenly died down, calm returns. Jaden’s shoulders slump forward, and he lets out a long breath.