just_muse_me | 29.9. Life has a tendency to come back and bite you in the ass
[Contains minor spoilers for Miami Medical 1x13 "Medicine Man"]
The biggest factor about trauma was that it was unpredictable. The cases that passed through the hands of trauma surgeons were often freak occurrences, and left even the savviest of doctors baffled some of the time. There was just no way to anticipate things that could land in your lap. As far as Dave was concerned, no matter how much he tried to convince himself he could cope with the patient he found him and his colleague dealing with that day, sometimes things just floored you and left you incapable of finding your footing again to deal with it.
The patient was only about five years older than Dave. She came in following a head-on collision on the freeway that, on first sight, didn't seem to have any cause. She wasn't drunk, any tox screenings coming back negative. Someone suggested she fell asleep at the wheel, which seemed likely. It wasn't until later that they realised the thirty one year old single mother and school nurse had a heart attack behind the wheel, blacked out, and cause the crash. Completely and utterly out of the blue. While the Alpha Team of MT1 dealt with a bus crash and gun shot wound that somehow involved a duck and weird hat, Charlie Team were doing their best to pick up the pieces of the head-on smash, and they needed to find the answers of why a seemingly healthy young woman would have a heart attack. Of course, this mean Cardiovascular needed to be paged, and for the first time since they started dating, Dave and Aimee found themselves working a case together. It was strange at first, both unsure of how to really face it for a few brief moments until their professionalism clicked in. Aimee was there with her senior attending, thankfully not Sable, and it was decided to get the patient into an OR to try and see why the heart had failed.
They didn't even get a scalpel to breach the skin for the surgery when the patient went into cardiac arrest again. Dave was the one who ended up knelt over her on the table giving the cardiac compressions, but what felt like hours, and was only really minutes, she continued to have no rhythm response. They kept fighting, trying to shock her back and find the answers, which came not from the exploratory surgery but a nurse appearing with some pathology print-outs. The patient didn't just have a heart attack. She had cancer, very late stages of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, and it caused her heart to fail. The hurried confirmation of the results came like a sharp and heavy blow to the gut for Dave, and it took his breath away. There was a vague awareness that someone was telling him to stop, to call the time of death, and he did, abruptly. The compressions were halted and he just gaped at the nurse holding the fast-tracked pathology. He would eventually realise it was a shock he would never have had the capacity to deal with, not like this. He stumbled back off the bed, turning to look at the patient who was flatlined with no hope of saving her. Obviously the whole Rayner meltdown was still fresh in the minds of all MT1 employees, and Dave really did not want to draw attention to himself, but he had to get out. He had to get out immediately. It felt like the walls were suddenly trying to crush in on him, and it was getting hard to catch his breath. He had to get as far away from the place as possible.
He peeled off his his mask and surgical cap, feeling his way along the glass wall so he didn't stumble and loose his footing, but he exited the OR rapidly without saying anything to anyone. The sharp, continuous hum of the flatlined heart monitor was ringing in his ears, feeling like it was drilling his brain. The nearest exit he came across was a fire escape, and bolting down the stairs was a blur to him by the time he reached ground floor and pushed out into the forecourt of MT1. The hot, summer breeze hit him and didn't do anything to help the already hot, panicked feeling engulfing him. Luckily there was some grass there when he got to the railing, which he leant over and vomited forcefully. It wasn't time fro any meal breaks, and not being a main entrance of the facility, there was hardly anyone around. When he was done, he fell back against the nearby brick wall, panting heavily for his breath and putting a hand on his chest to feel his heart beating so hard in his chest, he feared for a moment he was about to have a heart attack, too. Not quite, though. Any good doctor knew that a simple panic attack could be just as terrifying as that of a heart, though.
It took close to ten minutes before he managed to calm himself down enough to get a hint of clarity back in his thinking. The heat was oppressive, and his stomach was churning again, leaving him feeling uncertain as to whether he was going to vomit again or not. If he did, so be it. He couldn't move anywhere yet, anyway. His legs were shaky, feeling like jello, and if he even tried, he would probably just end up collapsing. There would be some explaining to do after this, he just hoped he had time before he needed to face that. Time for what, he wasn't exactly sure, but having his patient die under his hand from the same death sentence he had battled not too long ago... the chilling reality came crashing back to him, and for the first time since his diagnosis, he felt completely and utterly terrified.
- Aimee [learninghearts] referenced with permission
Word Count | 973
The biggest factor about trauma was that it was unpredictable. The cases that passed through the hands of trauma surgeons were often freak occurrences, and left even the savviest of doctors baffled some of the time. There was just no way to anticipate things that could land in your lap. As far as Dave was concerned, no matter how much he tried to convince himself he could cope with the patient he found him and his colleague dealing with that day, sometimes things just floored you and left you incapable of finding your footing again to deal with it.
The patient was only about five years older than Dave. She came in following a head-on collision on the freeway that, on first sight, didn't seem to have any cause. She wasn't drunk, any tox screenings coming back negative. Someone suggested she fell asleep at the wheel, which seemed likely. It wasn't until later that they realised the thirty one year old single mother and school nurse had a heart attack behind the wheel, blacked out, and cause the crash. Completely and utterly out of the blue. While the Alpha Team of MT1 dealt with a bus crash and gun shot wound that somehow involved a duck and weird hat, Charlie Team were doing their best to pick up the pieces of the head-on smash, and they needed to find the answers of why a seemingly healthy young woman would have a heart attack. Of course, this mean Cardiovascular needed to be paged, and for the first time since they started dating, Dave and Aimee found themselves working a case together. It was strange at first, both unsure of how to really face it for a few brief moments until their professionalism clicked in. Aimee was there with her senior attending, thankfully not Sable, and it was decided to get the patient into an OR to try and see why the heart had failed.
They didn't even get a scalpel to breach the skin for the surgery when the patient went into cardiac arrest again. Dave was the one who ended up knelt over her on the table giving the cardiac compressions, but what felt like hours, and was only really minutes, she continued to have no rhythm response. They kept fighting, trying to shock her back and find the answers, which came not from the exploratory surgery but a nurse appearing with some pathology print-outs. The patient didn't just have a heart attack. She had cancer, very late stages of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, and it caused her heart to fail. The hurried confirmation of the results came like a sharp and heavy blow to the gut for Dave, and it took his breath away. There was a vague awareness that someone was telling him to stop, to call the time of death, and he did, abruptly. The compressions were halted and he just gaped at the nurse holding the fast-tracked pathology. He would eventually realise it was a shock he would never have had the capacity to deal with, not like this. He stumbled back off the bed, turning to look at the patient who was flatlined with no hope of saving her. Obviously the whole Rayner meltdown was still fresh in the minds of all MT1 employees, and Dave really did not want to draw attention to himself, but he had to get out. He had to get out immediately. It felt like the walls were suddenly trying to crush in on him, and it was getting hard to catch his breath. He had to get as far away from the place as possible.
He peeled off his his mask and surgical cap, feeling his way along the glass wall so he didn't stumble and loose his footing, but he exited the OR rapidly without saying anything to anyone. The sharp, continuous hum of the flatlined heart monitor was ringing in his ears, feeling like it was drilling his brain. The nearest exit he came across was a fire escape, and bolting down the stairs was a blur to him by the time he reached ground floor and pushed out into the forecourt of MT1. The hot, summer breeze hit him and didn't do anything to help the already hot, panicked feeling engulfing him. Luckily there was some grass there when he got to the railing, which he leant over and vomited forcefully. It wasn't time fro any meal breaks, and not being a main entrance of the facility, there was hardly anyone around. When he was done, he fell back against the nearby brick wall, panting heavily for his breath and putting a hand on his chest to feel his heart beating so hard in his chest, he feared for a moment he was about to have a heart attack, too. Not quite, though. Any good doctor knew that a simple panic attack could be just as terrifying as that of a heart, though.
It took close to ten minutes before he managed to calm himself down enough to get a hint of clarity back in his thinking. The heat was oppressive, and his stomach was churning again, leaving him feeling uncertain as to whether he was going to vomit again or not. If he did, so be it. He couldn't move anywhere yet, anyway. His legs were shaky, feeling like jello, and if he even tried, he would probably just end up collapsing. There would be some explaining to do after this, he just hoped he had time before he needed to face that. Time for what, he wasn't exactly sure, but having his patient die under his hand from the same death sentence he had battled not too long ago... the chilling reality came crashing back to him, and for the first time since his diagnosis, he felt completely and utterly terrified.
- Aimee [learninghearts] referenced with permission
Word Count | 973