"Coup de Foudre" 75
Triage.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, July 2016
Allegheny General was a large urban hospital and on a Friday evening in July, with the weekend just beginning, the Emergency Room was already hopping.
Justin and Gus stumbled through the doors of the E.R., unsure of where to go.
“Move it!” A team bringing a stretcher in from an ambulance was on their heels.
“Sorry!” Justin pulled Gus out of the way before they were trampled.
“Where’s Dad?” Gus was barely keeping himself together. “I want to see him!”
“They got here way ahead of us, so I’m sure the doctors are checking him out now,” said Justin, on the verge of panic, but trying not to show it.
“I want to see him now!” Gus demanded.
“Calm down,” said Justin. “I’ll find out.”
The Triage desk was dominated by a tall, stout woman in a baby blue scrub coat who looked like she didn’t put up with any nonsense. Phones were ringing and people were asking questions and doctors and nurses in white coats and colorful scrubs were moving back and forth behind the glass partition.
“Excuse me! Please, can I get some information?” Justin pushed himself to the front.
“Wait your turn, sir,” said the woman, picking up a phone and reading off some numbers. Another women in polka dot scrubs brought a stack of folders and set them down. “Busy night and it’s only started.”
“I know,” the second woman commented. “Fridays are insane.”
“Excuse me,” said Justin. “Can I get some information on my friend?”
The woman in charge looked at him evenly. “Name?”
“Justin Taylor,” Justin said automatically.
She scanned a list on a clipboard. “We don’t have anyone by that name.”
“Fucking idiot,” Gus murmured.
Justin shot him a look. “I mean, Brian Kinney. He was brought in here less than an hour ago. Motorcycle accident.”
The woman frowned. “Motorcycle accident. In Point Breeze?”
“Yes, that’s the one!” Justin said with relief.
The woman found the name on her list. “Mr. Kinsey is being seen by the doctors. Please take a seat for now.”
“Kinney,” Justin corrected. “Brian Kinney. K-I-N-N-E-Y. Not Kinsey, Kinney.”
She made a note on her list. “Please take a seat.”
“What’s his condition?” Justin pleaded. “Can you tell me how he is?”
“I can’t give you that information, sir. Please wait and the doctor will call you.”
“But… I’m his partner and this is his son!” said Justin. “Can’t you tell us if he’s… he’s alive?”
“Please take a seat, sir,” the woman repeated. “The doctor will see you when there’s any news.”
Justin and Gus found seats as close to the desk as possible, but the waiting room was quickly filling up with people waiting to see a doctor, or for word on a loved one who was being treated. Every few minutes there were new arrivals, either walk-ins or EMT’s bringing patients in by ambulance. In the corner a television was tuned to CNN, but the sound was turned off. Children chased each other up and down the rows of hard plastic seats. Most people either stared into space or at their phones, their brows furrowed. A woman across from them clutched her stomach and moaned quietly. Another held a fidgeting, feverish child. Waiting - all of them waiting.
“Should we call someone?” Gus asked. He was turning his phone over and over in his hand nervously. “Should I call my mom? Or Uncle Michael?”
Justin had already considered that. “I think we should hold off for now. Lindsay will freak out, but she’s in Toronto and there’s nothing she can do. We don’t have any news yet and this place is already a madhouse without Michael and Ben and Debbie and Carl and who knows who else adding to it. Once we get inside, we can see what the situation is and decide what to do.”
“How much longer do you think we'll have to wait?” Gus squirmed in his seat.
“I don’t know,” said Justin. “At least we know Brian’s in there. Some of these people won’t see a doctor for hours.”
Gus looked at the moaning woman. “How do they decide who goes in?”
“That’s what Triage is for,” said Justin. “They figure out who is the sickest and they go first. If the ambulance brings you, you go right in. Otherwise, you have to wait.”
“But we aren’t sick!” Gus sniffed. “I want to see my dad!”
Justin hesitated. He didn’t want to scare Gus, but he had to be truthful. “He might be in surgery. If he is, we might wait a long time.”
“Surgery?” Gus sank down in the hard seat. “Oh, God! I know he’s going to die!”
The woman with the child looked at Gus and shook her head.
“Try to be calm,” said Justin.
“Why did they take him so far away?” said Gus. Allegheny General was on the Northside, across the river. “There are hospitals closer to our house.”
Justin swallowed. “This hospital has the best trauma unit in the city. That’s why they take people with brain injuries here. For neurological treatment.” That’s why they brought me here, he thought. And I lived. Brian will live, too. He has to!
“Is Dad going to… to need brain surgery?” Gus’s voice was shaking.
“If he does, this is the best place to be,” said Justin, his heart racing. His hand went to his head, feeling for something under his hair. The scar was almost imperceptible now, but he still knew the exact spot.
“How the fuck do you know?” said Gus. “You’re just saying that to shut me up!”
“I know because…”
“Kinsey?” The woman at the Triage desk called out.
“Here!” Justin and Gus jumped up and ran to the desk. “It’s Kinney,” said Justin. “Brian Kinney.”
The woman shrugged. “Go through those doors and down the hall. The doctor will speak to you now.”
“Is he dead?” Gus blurted out.
The woman sighed. “The doctor will talk to you about Mr. Kinsey’s condition. He’s through those doors.”
“Come on,” said Justin.
“I’m afraid,” said Gus, hanging back. Hospitals terrified him. All he could think of was Ron in a silent, darkened room.
Justin took the boy’s hand. “I’m here with you. It’ll be all right.”
Gus took a deep breath. And they went through the doors together.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, July 2016
Allegheny General was a large urban hospital and on a Friday evening in July, with the weekend just beginning, the Emergency Room was already hopping.
Justin and Gus stumbled through the doors of the E.R., unsure of where to go.
“Move it!” A team bringing a stretcher in from an ambulance was on their heels.
“Sorry!” Justin pulled Gus out of the way before they were trampled.
“Where’s Dad?” Gus was barely keeping himself together. “I want to see him!”
“They got here way ahead of us, so I’m sure the doctors are checking him out now,” said Justin, on the verge of panic, but trying not to show it.
“I want to see him now!” Gus demanded.
“Calm down,” said Justin. “I’ll find out.”
The Triage desk was dominated by a tall, stout woman in a baby blue scrub coat who looked like she didn’t put up with any nonsense. Phones were ringing and people were asking questions and doctors and nurses in white coats and colorful scrubs were moving back and forth behind the glass partition.
“Excuse me! Please, can I get some information?” Justin pushed himself to the front.
“Wait your turn, sir,” said the woman, picking up a phone and reading off some numbers. Another women in polka dot scrubs brought a stack of folders and set them down. “Busy night and it’s only started.”
“I know,” the second woman commented. “Fridays are insane.”
“Excuse me,” said Justin. “Can I get some information on my friend?”
The woman in charge looked at him evenly. “Name?”
“Justin Taylor,” Justin said automatically.
She scanned a list on a clipboard. “We don’t have anyone by that name.”
“Fucking idiot,” Gus murmured.
Justin shot him a look. “I mean, Brian Kinney. He was brought in here less than an hour ago. Motorcycle accident.”
The woman frowned. “Motorcycle accident. In Point Breeze?”
“Yes, that’s the one!” Justin said with relief.
The woman found the name on her list. “Mr. Kinsey is being seen by the doctors. Please take a seat for now.”
“Kinney,” Justin corrected. “Brian Kinney. K-I-N-N-E-Y. Not Kinsey, Kinney.”
She made a note on her list. “Please take a seat.”
“What’s his condition?” Justin pleaded. “Can you tell me how he is?”
“I can’t give you that information, sir. Please wait and the doctor will call you.”
“But… I’m his partner and this is his son!” said Justin. “Can’t you tell us if he’s… he’s alive?”
“Please take a seat, sir,” the woman repeated. “The doctor will see you when there’s any news.”
Justin and Gus found seats as close to the desk as possible, but the waiting room was quickly filling up with people waiting to see a doctor, or for word on a loved one who was being treated. Every few minutes there were new arrivals, either walk-ins or EMT’s bringing patients in by ambulance. In the corner a television was tuned to CNN, but the sound was turned off. Children chased each other up and down the rows of hard plastic seats. Most people either stared into space or at their phones, their brows furrowed. A woman across from them clutched her stomach and moaned quietly. Another held a fidgeting, feverish child. Waiting - all of them waiting.
“Should we call someone?” Gus asked. He was turning his phone over and over in his hand nervously. “Should I call my mom? Or Uncle Michael?”
Justin had already considered that. “I think we should hold off for now. Lindsay will freak out, but she’s in Toronto and there’s nothing she can do. We don’t have any news yet and this place is already a madhouse without Michael and Ben and Debbie and Carl and who knows who else adding to it. Once we get inside, we can see what the situation is and decide what to do.”
“How much longer do you think we'll have to wait?” Gus squirmed in his seat.
“I don’t know,” said Justin. “At least we know Brian’s in there. Some of these people won’t see a doctor for hours.”
Gus looked at the moaning woman. “How do they decide who goes in?”
“That’s what Triage is for,” said Justin. “They figure out who is the sickest and they go first. If the ambulance brings you, you go right in. Otherwise, you have to wait.”
“But we aren’t sick!” Gus sniffed. “I want to see my dad!”
Justin hesitated. He didn’t want to scare Gus, but he had to be truthful. “He might be in surgery. If he is, we might wait a long time.”
“Surgery?” Gus sank down in the hard seat. “Oh, God! I know he’s going to die!”
The woman with the child looked at Gus and shook her head.
“Try to be calm,” said Justin.
“Why did they take him so far away?” said Gus. Allegheny General was on the Northside, across the river. “There are hospitals closer to our house.”
Justin swallowed. “This hospital has the best trauma unit in the city. That’s why they take people with brain injuries here. For neurological treatment.” That’s why they brought me here, he thought. And I lived. Brian will live, too. He has to!
“Is Dad going to… to need brain surgery?” Gus’s voice was shaking.
“If he does, this is the best place to be,” said Justin, his heart racing. His hand went to his head, feeling for something under his hair. The scar was almost imperceptible now, but he still knew the exact spot.
“How the fuck do you know?” said Gus. “You’re just saying that to shut me up!”
“I know because…”
“Kinsey?” The woman at the Triage desk called out.
“Here!” Justin and Gus jumped up and ran to the desk. “It’s Kinney,” said Justin. “Brian Kinney.”
The woman shrugged. “Go through those doors and down the hall. The doctor will speak to you now.”
“Is he dead?” Gus blurted out.
The woman sighed. “The doctor will talk to you about Mr. Kinsey’s condition. He’s through those doors.”
“Come on,” said Justin.
“I’m afraid,” said Gus, hanging back. Hospitals terrified him. All he could think of was Ron in a silent, darkened room.
Justin took the boy’s hand. “I’m here with you. It’ll be all right.”
Gus took a deep breath. And they went through the doors together.