CHAPTER 45
Walter Reed National Military Medical Center
“Is that you, Billie?”
The room was pitch-dark, even though it was still light outside. Like a bottle of black ink spilled onto a desk, the darkness filled the room.
Maggie couldn’t tolerate the light. The head injury was seemingly becoming the worst of her several injuries. It had robbed her of her appetite, her taste, and her hearing. There was a constant ringing in her right ear. Maggie was becoming painfully thin, with little desire for the food trays that they brought. The food technicians had tried to increase the calorie count by bringing several meals, which she hardly touched.
“No.”
The figure in the room was dressed in white scrubs.
“Okay. I’m going to just take a short nap.”
The figure had the shape of a man. The voice, even in the single word, was masculine, but many nurses seemed to come and go in Maggie’s room.
In the low light, a syringe was barely visible in the visitor’s hand. The nurse stuck the needle into the IV bag and squeezed the yellow-tinted liquid into the saline solution. He had on surgical gloves.
Maggie heard the glass door slide shut.
Her IV needle started to burn with increased intensity. The pain woke her from the drowsiness of her sleep as it increased, like a wave, pushing her down.
“Oh, God, oh, God. It burns. Please stop.”
She reached for the nurse button, trying to find it in the blanket that was wrapped up in a wad near her chest. Her hand searched frantically for the cord.
“Oh, God.”
Nausea surged through her body. Her stomach churned, causing her muscles to contract. Then it became difficult to breathe. Her lips started to turn black as her skin became a pale white.
“Daddy, please help me.”
“Good God!” Billie Cook put her hand to the pulse in Maggie’s neck. The beat was pounding like a MRI machine at full force. “Hold on, kid.”
“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.”
The pain was now ripping her chest apart. Unspeakable pain stunned her like a child being electrified by a live wire.
“Code blue!” Billie shouted at the top of her lungs. She wrapped the plastic oxygen hose under Maggie’s nose and turned the pure oxygen up. “Hold on, help is coming.”
“I can’t breathe.”
“What’s going on?” The resident for the afternoon shift was standing behind Billie.
“Three fifty-two over one sixty-six.” She looked at the monitor, which was beeping constantly now.
“Someone shut that beeper off. I’m giving her epi!”
The young doctor pulled out a syringe from the crash cart. It had a long needle that extended the length of his hand.
Billie Cook held on to Maggie’s hand. The squeeze was cutting the circulation off in Billie’s hand.
“No!”
The doctor gave her a look.
“No! No!” Billie repeated what she was saying. “She needs nitro, not epi.” Maggie’s heart was already racing at a high rpm, like a race car at Daytona. The veins were already constricted, forcing blood through the pump at an increased speed. Nitroglycerin would relax the heart muscles. The nitric oxide would slow the beat down.
“Okay, Doctor, then give her nitro.” The resident’s order was dripping with sarcasm. He knew after looking at the monitor, however, that it was the right thing to do.
Billie slipped a nitro pill into Maggie’s mouth.
“Okay, honey, just let this melt.”
“Thank you, Billie.” Maggie’s voice was barely audible. She had her eyes closed, locked in a grimace.
Billie watched the monitor, holding her hand, waiting for the numbers to start coming down.
“Come on.” Billie was waiting for the nitric oxide to reach the muscles.
Suddenly, the monitor alarm went off. A steady scream of a beep.
“Shit!” The monitor had gone flat. Maggie’s grip became like a vise, and then it relaxed.
“Clear out,” the resident yelled as he tore Maggie’s hospital gown open. He put the paddles to her chest. “Clear!” The limp body jumped. The line remained flat. “Clear!” Again, the limp body jumped. The line remained flat.
“Let’s declare it.” The doctor looked up at the clock. “Four-oh-six.”
Billie stood back in shock. She had never lost one like this. Death was no stranger to the combat nurse. But not like this one.
“She probably threw a clot. With all of this.” He looked down at her wracked body.
Billie knew was he was thinking: Maggie was a double amputee with a head injury and multiple wounds. The only surprise was that she had lived this long.
“No.” Billie said it in a quiet voice. She pulled the saline bag off the hook, cut the tube, and then tied it off.
“What are you doing?”
By now the room was crowded with the resident and several of the floor nurses.
“I’ll be right back.”
Billie Cook went down the several floors to the basement and the hospital’s lab.
“Is Tommy here?”
The lab clerk looked up from her computer.
“Sure, Billie. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I appreciate your getting Tommy.” She held the saline bag close to her chest.
It didn’t take the lab technician long. The lab was ending the day shift and Tommy was heading out the door when the clerk stopped him.
“Hey, Nurse Cook. What’s up?”
Tommy and Billie had this formal thing where they called each other “Nurse Cook” and “Mr. Carota.” A doctor had harassed them several months ago about being not professional enough for his liking, but as a team they always seemed to get things done. It had irritated the surgeon because, again, Billie’s guess was right. He had refused to run a CBC, which, when Tommy ran it, showed sepsis and saved a young Marine’s life.
“I need you to run this.” She held out the saline bag.
“Billie, it’s after sixteen-hundred and that’s saline. Can’t it wait?”
“No.”
Tommy’s expression changed. For a nurse to insist that a test be run on a saline bag and stay to do it after a shift change told the rest of the story. She was hugging the bag up against her chest. Her body language said that no one was touching this.
“Okay. Let’s go.” He ran his card on the magnetic strip, unlocking the door to the lab. He paused just inside the lab. “Has it occurred to you that if we find anything that it may not be a good idea to do it this way?”
She shook her head. “I already know what’s in it.”