Taming Her Navy Doc. Amy Ruttan

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СКАЧАТЬ take my leg.” This time he was begging; the grip on her arm eased, but he didn’t let go. “Don’t take it. Let me serve my …” His words trailed off as the sedative took effect, his eyes rolling before he was unconscious.

      His passionate plea tugged at her heart. She understood him, this stranger. She’d amputated limbs before and never thought twice. She had compassion, but this was something more. In the small fragment she’d shared with the unnamed SEAL, she had understood his fear and his vulnerability. It touched her deeply and she didn’t want to have to take his leg and end his career.

      If there’d been another way, she’d have done it. There wasn’t.

      The damage had been done.

      If he’d gotten to her sooner, the infection would have been minor, the gunshot properly cared for.

      It was the hazard of covert operations.

      And her patient, whoever he was, was paying the price.

      “Let’s get him intubated and into the OR Stat.” The words were hard for her to say, but she shook her sympathy for him from her mind and focused on the task at hand.

      At least he’d have his life.

      “Petty Officer, where is my patient’s commanding officer?” Erica asked as she came out of the scrub room.

      “Over there, Commander. He’s waiting for your report.” The petty officer pointed over her shoulder and Erica saw a group of uniformed men waiting.

      “Thank you,” Erica said as she walked toward them.

      Navy SEALs.

      She knew exactly what they were, though they had no insignia to identify themselves. They were obviously highly trained because when she was in surgery she’d been able to see that someone had some basic surgical skills as they’d tried to repair the damage caused by the bullets. Also, the bullets had been removed beforehand.

      If it hadn’t been for the bacteria which had gotten in the wound, the repair would’ve sufficed.

      At her approach, they saluted her and she returned it.

      “How’s my man?” The commanding officer asked as he stepped forward.

      “He made it through surgery, but the damage caused by the infection was too extensive. The muscle tissue was necrotic and I had to amputate the left leg below the knee.”

      The man cursed under his breath and the others bowed their heads. “What caused the infection? Couldn’t it be cleared up with antibiotics?”

      “It was a vicious form of bacteria,” Erica offered. “I don’t know much about your mission.”

      “It’s classified,” the commanding officer said.

      Erica nodded. “Well, you obviously have a good medic. The repair was crude, but stable.”

      “He was our medic,” someone mumbled from the back, but was silenced when the commanding officer shot him a look which would make any young officer go running for the hills.

      “If it hadn’t been for the bacteria getting in there … Depending on whatever your situation was, it could’ve been caused by many factors,” Erica said, trying to take the heat off the SEAL who’d stepped out of line.

      “Like?” the commanding officer asked, impatience in his voice.

      “Dirty water?” Erica ventured a guess, but when she got no response from the SEALs she shook her head. “I’m sorry, unless I know the details of your mission I can’t help you determine the exact cause of how your man picked up the bacteria.”

      The commanding officer nodded. “Understood. How soon can we move him?”

      “He’s in ICU. He has a high temperature and will require a long course of antibiotics as well as monitoring of his surgical wound.”

      “Unacceptable,” the commanding officer snapped. “He needs to be moved. He can’t stay here.”

      Erica crossed her arms. “You move him and he develops a post-op fever, he could die.”

      “I’m sorry, Commander. We have a mission to fulfill.”

      “Not with my patient, you don’t.”

      “I’m sorry, Commander. We’re under strict orders. I can give him eight hours before our transport comes.” The commanding officer nodded and moved back to his group of men as they filed out of the surgical bay.

      Erica shook her head.

      She understood the protocols. It was a covert operation, but she didn’t agree with all the regulations.

      Their medic was useless. He needed medical care for quite some time and as a physician she wanted to see it through.

      When that young SEAL had blurted out that the man she’d operated on was their medic, her admiration for her patient grew. He’d operated on himself, most likely without anesthetic, and probably after he’d removed the bullets from the other man they’d brought on board after him. That man didn’t have the same extent of infection but, from what she’d gleaned from a scrub nurse, the gunshot wound had been a through-and-through. It hadn’t even nicked an artery.

      The man was being watched for a post-op fever and signs of the bacterial infection but would make a full recovery.

      Her patient on the other hand had months of rehabilitation and, yes, pain.

      I wish I knew his name.

      It was a strange thought which crept into her head, but it was there all the same, and she wished she knew who he really was, where he was from. Was he married? And, if he was, wouldn’t his wife want to know what she was in for as well?

      Her patient was a mystery to her and she didn’t really like mysteries.

      She headed into the ICU. He was extubated, but still sedated and now cleaned up. There were several cuts and scratches on his face, but they hadn’t been infiltrated by the bacteria.

      Erica sighed; she hated ending the career of a fellow serviceman. She grabbed a chair and sat down by his bedside.

      She had eight hours to monitor him, unless she appealed to someone higher up about keeping him here for his own good. At least until he was more stable to withstand a medical transport to the nearest base.

      USNV Hope was a floating hospital. It was not as big as USNV Mercy, but just as capable of taking care of his needs while he recovered. And it wasn’t only the physical wounds Erica was worried about, but also the emotional ones he’d have when he recovered.

      She knew about that. There were scars she still carried.

      Her patient had begged for his leg because he wanted to serve. It was admirable. Hopefully, he’d get the help he needed. The help her father hadn’t had.

      She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

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