Chapter Eight

 

 

 

 

 

Jumping out of the cab, Ashlynn ran through the huge, double, automatic, glass doors of the Emergency entrance of Children’s Medical, made an immediate left and sprinted for the stairs at the end of the hall. Crashing through the door, she hit the stairs like she’d been shot out of a cannon, before taking the steps three at a time and landing on the painted concrete floor of the basement in record time.

Speeding towards the Surgical Suite, she was met by Tracy and Angela, the two nurse practitioners who were part of her surgical team. Hitting the double doors leading to the Scrub Room with her back, Ashlynn spun towards the huge, deep, stainless steel sinks and began scrubbing in as one nurse helped her out of her clothes and into scrubs while the other gave her vital information on her patient.

“BP is Sixty-seven over thirty-two, hemoglobin at four and white count at fourteen-point-six as of fifteen minutes ago.”

The emotion in Angela’s voice was controlled, but nonetheless still there. It was no secret that they’d all gotten close to Timmy. He was a good kid who’d been dealt a raw deal by genetics, Fate, Destiny or whatever bastard was responsible for kids with bad hearts and rare blood types.

“Our boy’s got an infection,” Ash commented, unconsciously scrubbing her skin so hard her skin turned bright red. Pulling her hands from the water and bending her elbows upright so Tracy could slide the surgical gown onto her body, Ashlynn continued, “Liver functions, creatinine, and A1C are off the charts?”

“They are,” Angela confirmed before Tracy added, “And his fluid retention is damn near more than an adult three times his size,” while stuffing Ashlynn’s long, light-brown braid into her pink, flowered surgical cap and tying it tightly at the base of the surgeon’s neck along with the strings to her surgical mask. Covering Ashlynn’s mouth with the thick cotton-like fabric, the nurse tied the second set of strings atop the crown of the young surgeon’s head and confirmed, “The shield for your eyes is on your tray next to your light and scope.”

“Thanks, Trace.” Ash took her first deep breath since racing into the hospital and calmed the twinge of nerves she always felt right before surgery. At first, those uneasy feelings had worried her, made her think she wasn’t cut out to be a surgeon, but Dr. Higgenbotham, her professor, and mentor, was quick to reassure a then resident praying with words she still repeated before every procedure. “Nerves are good. They remind you that you are human. That you are about to hold another human’s life in your hands. As long as you have a conscience, you have a soul, and therefore, respect the sanctity of life. You, Ashlynn, will always give all that you have to your patients. Never fear the nerves, embrace them, let them fuel your desire to preserve the life you have sworn to protect. You are one of the good ones, Kiddo. Make me proud.”

I plan to do just that, Dr. H. Wherever in Heaven you may be, I thank you.

“He’s in multi-system failure. Get ready ladies, we’re about to replace the stent, hook him up with a pacemaker, and give our boy a few more weeks, so, we can find him a new heart.”

“We’re right behind you,” the nurses answered in unison as Ashlynn once again used her back to open another set of doors. Turning, she looked at her patient, so young, frail and very much in danger of losing his life.

Glancing up at Dr. Williams, the anesthesiologist Ash most liked to work with, she nodded, “You got our boy good and asleep?”

“He’s ready for your magic, Doc.”

Giving the other doctor a wink and grinning even though she felt anything but jovial, Ash looked at the entire surgical team and shoving as much positive energy and good vibes into her voice as she could, instructed, “This one’s for all the marbles. Prayers, good thoughts, and healing energy along with everything Dr. Simmons and I can do is what’s gonna save Timmy. Thank you for being here. Let’s get to work.”

Stepping up to the table supporting her young patient, Ashlynn’s eyes met Bob Simmons’, the assisting thoracic surgeon, and in unison, they gave each other a single nod before getting to work. Nine-and-a-half long, soul-sucking, energy-draining hours they worked to replace the stent on the anterior cardiac artery, place a new one on the posterior side and also implant a pacemaker to keep the boy’s heart beating at a regular, healthy rhythm.

During the long, treacherous procedure, Timmy went into cardiac arrest twice, had to be given ten pints of blood – which meant he lost not only the eight pints he’d come into surgery with, but also two additional units- and was on the razor’s edge of death more times than Ashlynn wanted to think about. Staying until Dr. Simmons had the boy’s chest closed and the nurses were taking him to recovery, the young surgeon held her head high, got out of her bloody clothes, changed into a new set of scrubs and headed out to talk to his parents.

Walking into the waiting room, she was immediately met by Mr. and Mrs. James, along with Timmy’s grandparents, two aunts, and an uncle. Motioning for them to sit back down, Ash pulled up a chair and sat in front of the semi-circle the family had formed while waiting.

Smiling at each person as she spoke, Ash assured them, “Timmy did a fantastic job. He’s a real fighter, super strong, you should be proud.” Taking Mrs. James’ hand as the mother with red-rimmed eyes and cheer-stained cheeks reached for her, Ashlynn continued, “You know that I’m always honest with you, so, here goes. Tim’s heart did stop twice, he did lose a lot of blood, and he’s still not out of the woods.” She watched as everyone held their breath waiting for the good news and hurried on. “All of that being said, he rallied back and held tight as we put in two stents and a pacemaker. He will be on daily dialysis until he’s off the ventilator as a precaution. We need to be sure he doesn’t retain any more fluids than absolutely necessary. We do not want his heart working any harder than it has to.” She squeezed Mrs. James’ hand and smiled at Mr. James. “I will be calling Houston, San Antonio, Seattle, Baltimore, and D.C. as soon as I can get to a phone and speak with the heads of their Transplant Units to see if they have any information on an AB negative match for Timmy.”

Letting go of Mrs. James’ hand, Ash stood and made her way around to each relative, shaking their hands as she concluded, “I’ll be here until he wakes up. Tracy and Angela are with him in recovery, as well as, Barbara and Kristine, so, y’all know he’s in the best hands we’ve got.” Winking as she pointed at the coffee pot, she added, “I’ll call Culinary and have them come up with some brunch and drinks.”

“Thank you so much,” Mr. James’ low, Texas drawl rang out right before the entire family echoed his appreciation. “If anyone can help our boy, it’s you, Dr. Ash.”

Holding back the tears, Ashlynn smiled and nodded, “I’m sure gonna give it my best.”

Walking out of the room, still maintaining her air of confidence, she made it into the elevator, up to the tenth floor and into the Chapel before letting her tears of sadness, fear, exhaustion, and utter confusion at a world where a boy like Timmy could suffer so much, fall. Glad the Sanctuary was empty, she slowly made her way to the front pew. Sitting on the end closest to the far wall, under the shroud of shadows caused by the glow of the electric candles perched in the golden candelabras, Ashlynn talked to God.

“I know you were in the Operating Room with us. I could feel your guidance with every cut, every decision, every step of the way. I have asked a lot of you over the years, probably more than I had a right to, but I have to ask more. Please, if it is your will, help me help Timmy. Whatever way that may be, in whatever form you deem necessary, I am asking you to be with that amazing little boy and not let his suffering be in vain.”

Unable to speak as her sobs continued to grow, Ashlynn continued her plea silently, letting go of her need to control and fix in favor of the Higher Power she knew with all her heart would lead her to the answers she needed to make sure Timmy had a long, healthy life. Thinking of her mom and dad and grandma Judy, she thought of all the times they’d prayed together as a family for one of her dad’s patients or her mother’s clients. Growing up with a father who was also a surgeon, a mother who was a social worker and a grandmother who was a retired nurse, all who had a strong faith in not only God but also in the inherent goodness of people, Ashlynn truly believed everything happened the way it was supposed to in its own time – and Timmy’s situation was no different.

It was almost as if she could hear her father’s voice reassuring, “You’ve done all you can, Doodlebug. You gave it you’re all. The rest is up to God. Believe, and your answers will come.”

“I do, Daddy. I believe so much it hurts. I know with my heart and soul that Timmy is destined for great things. I just have to help him make it there.”

Waiting for the reply she knew wasn’t coming, Ashlynn jumped to her feet when a voice called out over the loudspeaker, “Code Blue Recovery. Code Blue Recovery. Code Blue Recovery.”

Racing out of the chapel, she collided with a tall, handsome man whose hands gently closed on her upper arms as he kept her from hitting the floor. Icy hot goose bumps rose on her flesh. Her own heart skipped a beat, and the air was forced from her lungs.

Looking into his gunmetal-blue eyes, she felt something weird happen in the deep recesses of her soul. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere or the way one look made her want to jump into his arms and never leave.

Not able or willing to examine what was going on as the terrifying words ‘Code Blue’ continued through the halls, Ash exclaimed, “Sorry. Thank you. So Sorry.”

Racing towards Recovery, terrified at what she might find, for a split-second her steps faltered as the words, “My pleasure, Ashlynn. We shall meet again,” floated through her mind.