The Surgeon's Christmas Wish. Annie O'Neil

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Sorry to disappoint you.” Tara’s dark eyes turned quizzical, obviously wondering why a lack of extreme trauma would upset someone who’d taken the Hippocratic oath to care and protect.

      “We do get the odd spinal injury, and the rescue crews have seen their share of fatalities over the years. To be honest, I try not to dwell on the extreme cases, because it just means someone’s life has gotten a whole lot harder.”

      Fraser sighed heavily, nodding in agreement. He could relate to that. “It’s part of the job. Seeing people’s lives, their dreams, come to an abrupt halt.”

      Tara felt herself examining Fraser more closely. The cavalier guy who’d been trying to win her over with her favorite coffee seemed to have been spirited away. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Something dark. Was he lost in the same black hole she’d been pushed into after her ex had betrayed her? She scanned his face. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge.

      Don’t go there, Tara. He’s male. Emotions only run skin deep. No loyalty.

      “Listen.” She stabbed her fork into a final triangle of pancake. “I’d bet none of the injuries we have here are different from what you’ve seen at any other ski resort. Probably the biggest difference up here in Deer Creek are the bears.”

      “Bears?” Fraser felt his eyebrows raise a little too high. Had his voice risen too? Unlikely.

      Tara laughed and clapped her hands, “You should see yourself! A big strong man like you getting all nervy over a little grizzly bear.”

      So she thought he was big and strong, eh? That was a plus. Little grizzly bear? Yeah, right. Fraser cleared his throat, trying to regain some professional composure.

      “What do you do in the cases of a severe injury on the slopes?”

      “The ski patrol up here is really good,” Tara enthused. “The boys work on the same radio frequency as we do and they are all trained to a high level of first aid. In fact, a couple of them are the local ambulance medics during the summer, so they know their stuff.”

      Fraser felt himself nodding along with Tara’s breakdown of how the ski support staff all worked together in Deer Creek. Sounded like a smooth operation. Good blueberry muffins as well. He could definitely do with one of these every morning.

      As if on cue, Tara’s radio began to crackle to life with the ski patrol radio tag. She pulled it off her belt and set it between the two of them on the table.

      “Morning, team.” They heard the male voice continue, “Afraid we’ve got a fifty-three-year-old male presenting with a cardiac arrest. Ski Patrol Unit One is administering CPR. They are about five minutes out from the clinic on the Starlight Slope. Tara, do you read? Switch to Channel Two. Over.”

      Tara simultaneously picked up the radio and rose from her chair. Speaking into the radio, she gestured for Fraser to follow her and gave Marian a quick wave goodbye. “We’re on our way to the clinic now. Do you need an AED on site? Over.”

      “Negative. Patrol has a defibrillator on the skidoo. Prepare for arrival of patient. Over.”

      Tara pulled on her jacket, giving Fraser a concerned glance. “Are you sure you’re up to starting now? You’re not scheduled yet.”

      “You bet your woolen socks I’ll help.” Fraser was all too aware that the first few minutes after a person suffered from cardiac arrest were critical in terms of maintaining an oxygen-rich blood flow to the body’s vital organs. Compromising those precious opportunities just because he wasn’t on a roster? Not a chance.

      As they jogged the few yards to the clinic, Tara looked up at slopes at the sound of the approaching skidoo. The ski patrollers were highly visible in their bright red jackets with white crosses on the back. She saw one of them administering CPR whilst riding on the rescue stretcher with the patient.

      Not a good sign.

      Tara ran into the clinic, calling out to Liesel about the incoming patient.

      “Already on it!” replied the nurse, pulling open the double doors to the trauma room housing all the necessary equipment.

      Tara did a quick scrub at the sink and turned round to see Fraser carrying in the stretchered patient along with one of the patrollers. Good to see he wasn’t afraid to lend a hand. On Fraser’s quick count, they shifted the man to the exam table.

      “How long has he been out?” His voice was all business.

      “Two to three minutes max. The patient is suffering pulseless ventricular tachycardia,” came the reply. It was Brian, an EMT based in the Valley. Tara had worked with him on a couple of river rescues over the summer. Reliable. He would’ve been doing all he could. “You guys need me in the room?”

      Tara looked up quickly at Fraser, “I think Dr. MacKenzie and I have this one?” He nodded a quick assent, simultaneously unzipping the man’s jacket to reveal a skintight ski shirt.

      “Scissors?”

      Tara quickly pulled a pair out from a drawer and handed them to him, while steering the heart-rate monitor to the head of the gurney.

      “Update before you go, Brian?” Tara worked as she spoke, reaching for the defibrillator.

      Brian spoke from the doorway, giving the doctors room around the patient, “We administered on-site CPR for three minutes and confirmed chest rises, but no pulse. We administered one shock from the defibrillator, and received a weak pulse and heart rate. We then lost the pulse after loading the patient onto the rescue stretcher so I continued to administer CPR until now.”

      Tara thanked Brian, who slipped out of the room as Fraser efficiently cut away the clothing surrounding the man’s chest, applied lubricant and stood clear in order for her to apply the shock from the defibrillator.

      They both stood completely still for a moment, waiting for the tell-tale beeps on the heart-rate monitor. Silence. Silence.

      They repeated their motions—each working wordlessly—only looking to one another for confirmation of the other’s movement. Eighty percent of patients could survive a heart attack with prompt defibrillation.

      Tara increased the charge. “Clear!”

      Fraser stepped back.

      They waited again, listening, watching the patient for signs of a response.

      Silence.

      Beep. Beep. Beep.

      Tara heaved a sigh of relief. They’d done it. She looked up at Fraser and received a broad smile of confirmation. A shot of heat poured straight into her stomach. Espresso hot and just as stimulating. Uh-oh. She hadn’t experienced girly flutterings like this for some time. A long time. And that was just the way she liked it. Clean and simple. No feelings. Just medicine.

      She tried to shrug away the growing suspicion that working with Fraser would be much more than “just medicine.” They’d saved this man’s life. With medicine. And now just one lovely, warm smile and her knees were going all wobbly. Terrific.

      “Arthur Jones.”

      “What?” СКАЧАТЬ