I nod my head, as I absorb the information. Asher speaks up, “Levi, Zeb and I will go in for the extraction, with Prospect driving the van, and Naphtali, Reuben and Ephraim guarding the exits. Eph,” He turns to address me specifically, “I need a route to and from his place with minimal exposure.” As Road Captain, I typically handle our runs, charity drives and logistics.
I nod, then move the lap top closer to me so I can get started. It’s going to be a long night, but worth it if we can get Dalton Gellen off the streets and out of innocent women’s apartments.
Priscilla 15.
Garrett’s text bummed me out, but I understood they had “club business” to attend to. And it gave me a naughty thrill that he couldn’t talk to me about it, because he was doing bad, bad things for the right reasons. I might need to cut back on the MC books I read. They may be messing with my head, can’t say I’m not glad I don’t have sweet-butts or club whores to contend with, though.
“Priscilla.” The PICU charge nurse, Ellen, calls from the end of the nurse’s station.
“What’s up?” I ask, even though I’m already rising, grabbing my stethoscope and heading towards her. She always gets this look on her face when something is going on.
“Got a patient coming in from surgery recovery. 7 year-old boy, father claims the boy fell off the stone wall of their driveway, severe brain swelling, craniectomy was performed successfully, broken right arm was set and stabilized, hip dislocation was addressed, we are waiting for swelling to decrease…everywhere, then we can assess his orbital fracture.”
“My God, that poor boy. All from falling off the driveway wall?” The injuries seem excessive, but I will learn more once we get him here for evaluation. Often times, the ER manages to stabilize just in time for the OR to repair, and then we can finally do a full body work-up once they are in our care.
“ETA 10 minutes, make sure 713 is ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I move down the hallway, grabbing the attention of one of our CNA’s to assist. As soon as the boy, Jason Wells, comes into our unit, it’s a flurry of activity to get his machines placed properly and plugged in, checking the IV, ventilator.
Then I begin with his toes and work my way up his body, noting old and new bruising, burn marks, and fingerprint bruising around his neck. The CNA and I carefully adjust him to view his back, finding more of the same and a boot print starting to form in the soft tissue. The kid is skin and bones, obviously malnourished. Sick to my stomach, I step out after the assessment, excusing myself to the bathroom.
That little boy, how could someone do that to a child, how could his parents allow that to happen or not notice or inflict that harm themselves? I drop to my knees in time to hurl. I have never vomited at work before, while I usually get upset, I have also never seen anything like this before.
After cleaning up, I make my way to the nurse’s station to make my notes in the chart. Dr. Stanton comes charging into the PICU, face twisted into a grimace. I’m not sure why he is here, he is a pediatrician, but this is out of his expertise, I would think.
“Dr. Stanton, is there something I can help you with?”
“I’m here to see my patient, Jason Wells.” He shifts on his feet, impatient.
Looking back at Jason’s chart, I do note that Dr. Stanton is his regular pediatrician, but he is under the care of several specialists right now. “I have just finished his PICU intake evaluation. I’m concerned, Dr. Stanton, about some of the other injuries I noted on Jason’s body. Older injuries.”
“Listen, Columbo, I don’t have time for your concerns, just tell me what room he is in, so I can check on him and be on my way.”
“713.”
A buzz at the main doors diverts my attention, and I notice a well put together man staring into the camera. “Can I help you, sir?”
“I’m here for my son. Jason Wells.” He says into the intercom, sounding bored. Not at all frantic like you would expect from a concerned parent whose child is fighting for his life.
I unlock the door and stand waiting for him. “Mr. Wells, my name is Priscilla. I am a nurse here in the PICU. Dr. Stanton has just arrived and should be in the room with your son now. I can show you the way.” At his nod, I lead him to Jason’s room.
Mr. Wells enters after me, giving a brief nod to Dr. Stanton. “Bob.”
Dr. Stanton steps away from the IV pump and returns the greeting. “Steve.” Then he just leaves. What the fuck? I turn back to Mr. Wells to see him leaning over Jason’s prone body, with an almost disinterested look. I feel like ice has taken over my stomach.
He’s an aesthetically appealing man; dark brown hair, tall-ish, not muscular but certainly not lanky and he walks with an air of authority. But, his lack of concern is disconcerting.
“Mr. Wells, will your wife be joining you? I’d be happy to go over Jason’s condition with you both.”
“Nah, she’s at home.” He finally meets my eyes and I fight the urge to step back. “I told him a million times to stay away from the driveway and not to play on the wall. But does he listen?”
“Is Jason accident prone?” I ask cautiously.
“What 7-year-old boy isn’t?” He laughs humorlessly.
“Right. Well, he is stable right now, we will keep a close eye on him as he his swelling goes down, and the doctors will be by in a few hours to check his progress. They usually make their round again in the mornings around 8 a.m.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be back
