“So, the IV medications that they’ve started Breanna on are working?” John, the young father, asked, looking hopefully across the room where his newborn daughter lay.
“For now, but it’s only a temporary fix. Breanna still needs surgery and there will be more surgeries necessary later,” David said.
As David went on to explain the procedures that were needed and the many surgeries that would be necessary, Sarah found herself impressed with how understanding and patient he seemed to be with the parents’ questions and concerns.
Before they left the room, Sarah listened to the baby’s heart and lungs, noting that even with the medications that were keeping the ductus open, the infant’s color was still a sickly gray. She pulled out her phone and texted the cardiologist on call with her concerns, then used the computer at the bedside to order the tests that would be needed before they took the infant to surgery.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t been officially assigned to the case, I shouldn’t have taken over like that. I get a little carried away sometimes. It’s just...” said David. “It’s better that they know what they’re up against from the beginning so that they can prepare themselves.”
“We have a great team here and we stress the importance of making sure all our parents understand what is going on with their child, but sometimes they’re in such denial that it just takes time for them to come to terms with their child’s condition,” she said. Sarah understood his frustration only too well. She remembered being on the other side of those conversations when her mind had been unable to wrap itself around what she was being told by the medical staff.
She forced the thoughts of those days away, and mentally shut the door to where she kept the memories of a life she’d had before locked away. There was only one place where she felt safe to take those memories out and it certainly wasn’t here at the hospital. She’d always been very careful to keep her work life separate from the personal memories she had of this place.
“There’s nothing that can prepare them for how their life is going to change. Right now it looks like they have a strong marriage. We can only hope that it will be up to the test that having a critically ill child brings,” David said as they headed toward the next room.
Was that a hint of bitterness that Sarah heard? There was a story there, she was sure. Glancing over at David, she tried to catch a glimpse of the man she had seen earlier, the man with the haunted eyes. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had something she kept hidden away.
They made their way through the critical care unit and then continued down the acute pediatric cardiac floor, looking in on patients recovering from surgery and those who had been brought in for assessments for surgery or for placement on the transplant waiting list. They stopped at the room of a teenage boy, Jason, who had been brought in after collapsing on the baseball field at his high school a couple of days ago.
Sarah had tried to get the boy to talk to her on her last two visits, but he’d answered her with only one word responses then focused on his phone when she had tried to start a conversation with him.
“Jason’s scheduled tomorrow to have a defibrillator implanted, but he’s refused to agree to the procedure,” she told David as they stopped outside the room.
“I know it would be best to have his agreement, but the fact is that he’s a minor so we only need his parents’ consent,” David said.
“Well, yes, but that’s not the point. He’s the one who’s going to be living with this for the rest of his life.” A point she had made to Dr. Benton the day before.
“Do you mind if I see him alone?” David asked as he moved toward the room. “I’ll leave the door open so that you can hear.”
“Give it your best shot,” she said. “He’s certainly not responding to me or Dr. Benton.”
David rapped his knuckles on the door and entered leaving the door partially open as he had promised.
“Hey, Jason, my name is Dr. Wright.”
Sarah wasn’t surprised when she heard the boy answer with a grunt and the sound of the boy’s computer keys continuing to click. So far it was teenager one. Dr. Wright zero.
“Today’s my first day here on the unit and I wanted to introduce myself,” said David.
Another grunt came from the room now making it teenager two, Dr. Wright still zero, but she had to give it to David, he wasn’t giving up.
“I’m a thoracic surgeon here to study transplantation,” David said.
“I don’t need a transplant,” Jason said with an exaggerated sigh.
Sarah couldn’t help but be impressed. That was more than she had been able to get out of the kid in the last two days. Still, from Jason’s uninterested tone, she’d have to consider the point a tie.
“No, you don’t,” David said, his voice still patient. “Nice computer. The graphics are amazing.”
“Yeah, they are. It’s the best one I’ve ever had,” Jason said. “You play any games?”
Sarah listened as David and Jason discussed computers and various aspects of computer gaming versus something called console games. After a couple minutes of computer terminology that she didn’t understand, she heard David ask to see the teenager’s computer.
“There are a couple videos I want to show you. It will explain a lot of what the doctors have been talking about as far as how they’re going to fix your heart,” David said.
As David explained the procedures alongside what they seemed to be reviewing on
