Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
“Operable?” he asked.
She nodded. “Dr. Hughes wants to operate.”
“She’s a stellar surgeon,” Kent said. “One of the best in the state.”
“I’ve read as much online.”
“You’re unsure?”
Kent’s cell phone dinged with a message. He glanced at it briefly and saw it was from the nurses’ station, letting him know Maeve was awake. As much as he wanted to stay and chat with Palmer, he needed to see his girlfriend.
Palmer shrugged. “The decision I make will change my life, no matter which path I choose.”
“Brain surgery is no joke,” Kent said. He pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote his name and number down on the napkin. “If you ever need anything, call me. Don’t hesitate. And if you call 911, you can ask for me to respond. I can’t guarantee it’ll be me, but if I’m available, I’ll be there.” Kent slid the napkin toward her.
“They do that?”
“Sometimes. It depends on the dispatcher and how their shift is going. It doesn’t hurt to ask, though.”
“Thank you.”
“I gotta run,” he said and stood. He pushed his pie toward her. “I didn’t take any bites, if you’re interested. See ya around, Palmer.” Kent winked and strode toward the exit. Maeve was on his mind, and he wanted to get back to her.
Back on the main floor, the hecticness of the emergency department had calmed down a bit in his absence. Kent went past the desk and ran right into Dr. Molina.
“You can go in and see her. She’s in and out of consciousness. I expect her to wake fully in the next hour, maybe two. Her CT came back clear, no head trauma. Once she’s awake, I’ll be in.” Dr. Molina gave him Maeve’s room number and pointed in the direction he should go. It was funny to Kent that Dr. Molina seemed to have forgotten that he spent a lot of time in her ER and was aware of where the room was. They had moved her from a trauma room to a critical care room, still in the care of Dr. Molina, which meant they intended to keep her overnight for observation once she woke up.
He thanked Dr. Molina and went into Maeve’s room. The door was open, and he went right in and stood at the end of her bed. Maeve had bandages on her right wrist, and her left arm had a splint. It was likely broken, and if that was the only thing wrong, then that was a win in his book. He was there. He saw the car. Maeve was very lucky.
Kent sat down in the chair next to her bed. He rested his head on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch her, and let his tears flow. The feeling was cathartic. It was freeing. He sat back in the chair and watched the rise and fall of Maeve’s chest. Kent tried to compartmentalize being a medic, but he’d never be able to stop his training. When he wasn’t focused on her breathing, he paid attention to the sphygmomanometer when it started up. Kent liked the number he saw, and deduced Maeve was going to be just fine once she fully woke up.
Maeve’s hand twitched, and then her forehead creased. Kent’s heart raced with anticipation. “Please open your eyes,” he begged.
Her eyes fluttered, and hope sprang for Kent. He carefully touched her hand and said her name, coaxing her awake. Maeve blinked a couple of times before she opened her eyes fully. She looked at Kent and smiled, and then something shifted. Her eyes became frantic, and she cried.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. Everything is okay.” Kent gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders and consoled her.
“What happened?”
Kent gave her a muddled version of the accident. She didn’t need to relive the memories playing in his head. He left out the man she was with, though, mostly because he didn’t have any information on him.
“Am I interrupting?” Dr. Molina asked. Kent stood and helped Maeve wipe her tears.
“She just woke up.” Kent beamed at Maeve, who stared at Dr. Molina.
“My timing’s perfect, as always.” Dr. Molina laughed at her joke. She held the chart open in front of her, closed it, and then looked at Maeve. “You have a broken arm, which we’ve set and will need to cast once the swelling goes down. You have a right wrist sprain, and you have ten stitches in your arm where we pulled out shards of glass. You also have a concussion, and some deep contusions on your thigh, which we need to watch for hematomas. That’s all the bad news,” she said with a wry smile.
“What’s the good news?” Maeve spoke for the first time.
“The accident didn’t cause any harm to the fetus. The ultrasound shows you’re around ten weeks. An obstetrician will be in to speak to you later. We’re going to keep you for two to three days for observation. Congratulations.”