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BEFORE THE NIGHT NURSE had run into the Canter family, she had been in Rose’s room checking on her patient. The room was a cacophony of piercing bells and flashing lights. The monitor alarms were shrieking as if an atomic bomb alert was going out. The ear-splitting noise implored the nurse to check the patient. And that’s what she was doing, checking her patient. Tall, squiggly, green lines sped across the black computer screen. Red letters at the top flashed v-tach, meaning her patient’s heart was quivering and not pushing blood through efficiently. After the ventricular tachycardia, ventricular fibrillation or v-fib, as the medical personnel prefer to refer to the dangerous rhythm, would make an entrance as fine squiggly lines showing the heart’s attempt was futile. Then asystole, the flat line, would claim the spotlight waiting for the angels to appear to collect the patient and whisk her off to the great beyond. The ventilator was beeping with a low-pressure alarm. Air to her patient was being impeded. All these alarms imploded the room like explosives and demanded action.
The young nurse was as calm as an old cat strolling to the door to take a peek at who was chiming the doorbell. She glanced up at the lines and hit the silence button. One look at her patient and she knew it was artifact, not v-tach. Her attention next went to the ventilator. She silenced the alarm. Rose was chomping down on the tube in her mouth as if it was a candy cane that she was determined to bite in two.
“Calm down, Rosie,” the young nurse told Rose in her mild, motherly voice. She put a hand on Rose’s arm. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine.”
Rose’s eyes flashed over the room, her lids blinking rapidly like a camera shutter with its photographer snapping off pictures. Her lips were moving wildly around the breathing apparatus trying to form words that were trapped by the tube.
“Rosie, you can’t talk because of the breathing tube.” She was still stroking Rose’s arm. “You’re fine. I’m going to get something to calm you.”
Rose was shaking her head side to side. No, no, no, she was trying to communicate to the nurse. The room was quieter now. All alarms silent. The hissing of the ventilator was back as the Chinese lantern expanded and compressed. The sound was comforting music to the nurse’s ears. She held Rose’s hand. It was small, soft, and warm. Another nurse poked his head in asking if his assistance was needed. He could see everything was under control.
“I’ll be at the desk if you need me,” he told his coworker. “Oh, and the pharmacy called and said the Propofol is on the way up.”
The young nurse shot a dispirited gaze at him. “It should have been here long ago. There was no reason for us to run out. Rosie’s drip ran dry and now she’s awake, and agitated, and scared.”
The nurse’s attention flipped back on her patient. “You don’t want something to calm you down?” the nurse asked using her soothing, indoor voice as if speaking to a toddler. Rose shook her head. “You want to tell me something?” Rose’s eyes were big and scared, intense on the nurse’s as she tried to send her questions telepathically. The nurse gave Rose’s hand a caring caress. “Rosie, I secured your hands so you wouldn’t accidentally dislodge your breathing tube if you woke up alone. I’d like to remove these little buggers, but you have to promise not to touch the breathing tube. Can you do that, Rosie? Squeeze my hand once for no and twice for yes.” Two squeezes. “Alright Rosie, I’m going to get a pad and pencil from the counter so you can write out what you’d like to tell me.”
Rose tracked the nurse with her eyes as she went over to retrieve the communication utensils. A milk chocolate truffle. That’s what the nurse reminded Rose of. Her hair was like perfect brown Twizzlers. To Rose, the nurse looked no older than herself. The nurse returned and released the slip knots. She held the pad and pencil out to Rose. She started writing instantly as soon as the instruments were in her hand. She was like a columnist anxious to write the hot story.
“Your name.” That’s what Rose wanted to know first—the name of the nice nurse. The nurse read the words as Rose swept them across the page in big, shaky letters. “Devyn. My name is Devyn.”
Second question, big, shaky letters again. “Why am I here?” Rose was feeling anxious and hollow. The flutters in her stomach were gone. She felt as if something essential was missing, something as vital as a heart or a brain. She let the communication instruments slip to her chest. She ran her hands over her abdomen. Her eyes squeezed closed and hot tears slid from the corners. The familiar bump was missing. The little bump that kept her company at night. The tiny lump that she had been singing her love to and reading her favorite books to at night. The stories that she had loved when she was younger. The ones she kept on her bookcase.
Abortion. The word rang out loud in her thoughts. The abortion she had scheduled herself for an hour away from home. The appointment she knew she would not have been able to go through with. She loved the little lump, wanted it with all her heart. Now she knew that this was her penance. She squeezed her lids tighter. If only she could let out a wail, a scream, any sound to help release the elephant pressure that was constricting her chest.
As Devyn watched her pain-stricken patient, her eyes began to sting. “Rosie, I’m so sorry, so, so, sorry.” Devyn placed her hand in Rose’s. Rose clenched Devyn’s hand and Devyn held on tight. Held on trying to comfort a young patient who was just learning her baby was gone.
“Rosie, can I give you something now? Something to calm you?” Devyn’s eyes were soft and caring as she watched Rose and waited for her to agree. The agreement didn’t come. Rose reclaimed her writing utensils. “My baby. Can I see my baby? Can this tube come out?”
“Rosie, lift your head off the pillow and hold it up until I count to ten.”
Rose’s head lifted off the pillow. Devyn counted to ten. Rose was able to hold her head up for the entire count.
“I think you’re strong enough that we can remove it, but that decision is going to be up to the doctor.” Devyn peered through the doorway into the corridor and called to her coworker, “Jon, would you...”
Jon was already ambling toward the doorway with the bottle of white calm in his hand held up high for Devyn to see. “It’s here,” he told her in a rushed tone. “I’ll hang it for you,” he offered.
Devyn threw up a halting hand. Jon stopped as if he had hit an invisible door. Devyn’s attention went back to Rose. “We’ll get this tube out, Rosie, but I need to be sure you’re ready. If we take it out too soon, we’ll only have to put it back in. Do you understand?”
Rose nodded her head. “You’re doing great, Rosie.” Devyn gave Rose’s hand a squeeze. To Jon, she motioned with her eyes for him to hang the Propofol. He complied. Devyn continued to talk to Rose in her mild manner using soothing words telling her how well she was doing. The white liquid began to drip into the clear chamber of the IV tubing and then continuing its trip to Rose’s vein. Devyn knew exactly when the drug reached its destination. Rose’s grip on her hand relaxed. The tortured expression riddling her face was gone and her lids closed. The air in the room even seemed to quiet.
She thanked Jon as she scooted a guest chair close to Rose’s bed. Her patient’s fears and pain struck a familiar chord inside her heart and she wasn’t ready to abandon Rose yet. So, she sat and watched Rose sleep. Watched the drug induced peace. She wanted to say some things to Rose. Tell her that she was young and could have more children, but she didn’t dare say those hollow words aloud. She knew those words were not comforting. They were meaningless proclamations that belittled a lost life and the grief of a mother. As if you could ever replace a child like you would replace a worn-out garment, Devyn thought to herself.
Instead, she leaned over Rose’s bedrail, held her hand and said, “I know exactly how feel.” She sighed. She wasn’t sure Rose could hear her, but she pushed on. “It will take time, and work, and a lot of tears, but you will get through this.” Devyn hung her head and began to tackle her story. “When I was in nursing school, I got pregnant. It wasn’t the right time. Maybe not even the right guy. We married anyway. I graduated when I was nine months pregnant. I was so proud waddling across the stage to claim my degree. Everyone was there to cheer me on. It was the happiest day of my life.”
Devyn choked back her emotions. She didn’t want to cry. She had never shared her story with anyone. It was hers. It lived bottled up inside her, but now the story wanted to be free. It wanted to be shared.
“That night I went into labor. The pain was awful. I had expected it. Other mothers told me the pain would disappear and be forgotten as soon as I heard my little bundle of joy cry and I held her in my arms.” Her voice faltered. “Only, I never heard her cry. She never made a sound. I held my breath waiting for my baby to utter a sound. She never took a breath. I thought I would die with her, but Rosie, I’m here, and I’m living, and I’m happy. It was a long, tiring, bumpy road. I couldn’t do it alone. I had to seek out a counselor. She saved my life, Rosie. You’re strong. You can do it. Live, Rosie.”
Devyn tapped Rose’s hand and eased up off her chair. She gave a long, guilty look at the sleeping girl. “Forgive me, Rosie. You’ll be stronger in the morning,” she said softly.
The room felt as if the walls were closing in and the air was heavy and stagnant. A brisk walk, Devyn thought. A brisk walk to shake off the past. She stepped into the corridor and searched for Jon. She wanted him to watch over her patient while she went on her head clearing walk. Ruthie, another nurse was at the monitor station.
“Hey, have you seen Jon?” she asked. “I want him to keep an eye on Rosie since he already knows her.”
“Girl, you’ve been in that room so long I guess you didn’t even hear the new patient come through. He’s admitting a patient from surgery.” Ruthie scanned Devyn’s face. “You look like hell. What were you doing in there?” She fanned her hand in the air. “Never mind. Go. I’ll keep a look out for her. Just give me the highlights.”
Devyn hit the important details and headed for fresh air. She took the steps down to the first floor, ambled through the dim lobby, down the dim corridors to the ER, and exited to the outdoors. The night air was cool and refreshing on her face and arms. She paced all the way around the brick hospital admiring the orange ball in the blackened sky as it peeked in and out of the clouds. A few stars twinkled as she tried to pick out a constellation as she had done with her father on their nightly summer walks.
By the time she made the full circle and was once again at the ER doors, she felt rejuvenated and was ready for a hot cup of coffee or a cool soda. She would decide in the canteen. She walked briskly through the halls. She’d been gone for a while and needed to get back, but when she reached the doorway of the canteen, she saw the Canter family. They saw her at the same time and they were staring at her with haunted expressions.
“Has something happened?” Agnes blurted out.
Devyn put on her soothing face, “No, Rosie’s fine.”
“You call her Rosie?” Faith asked. “She hates that name.”
“Oh my,” Devyn said looking puzzled. “She didn’t seem to mind when we were talking.” Her words had an apologetic tone.
Agnes’ eyes went wide and her face alight. She was up and out of her chair heading for the nurse. “She’s awake! The breathing tube is out? She can talk!”
Devyn placed a hand on Agnes’ arm. “She was awake, but the tube is still in. She’s sedated now. It will be best to take it out in the morning. She’ll be stronger. Let’s sit down, Mrs. Canter.” They both took seats back at the table with Joe and Faith.
Devyn donned her friendliest smile. “I came down to get a drink. I’m glad I ran into you. Rose is doing wonderful. She will be sedated the entire night. The doctors make rounds at eight in the morning. They will get some blood work and then let her wake up and remove the tube. You really should go home, get some rest, and come back in the morning so you will be fresh and rested when she wakes up.”
Agnes and Joe wore reluctant expressions. “We want to be here when she wakes up,” Joe said.
“Not a problem. We will start weaning her around nine and hopefully she will be tube free before lunch time.” Devyn smiled sweetly at the family. “She’s in good hands. Get some rest. You need to take care of yourselves so you can care for Rose.”
“Well, maybe she’s got a point,” Joe agreed looking at Agnes.
Agnes nodded in agreement. “Okay, we’ll be back in the morning, but if anything happens call us. Promise.” Agnes’ eyes were pleading to the nurse.
“Of course,” Devyn said. “That’s not a problem at all and if you need to call in and check on her, we are here 24/7.” Devyn pushed her chair back and stood. “I’m just going to get a soda and head back up.”
Devyn headed back to the ICU and the Canter family headed home to turn in with the rest of Marston unaware that tomorrow would not be just another day.