Rescue - By Anita Shreve Page 0,64
a normal sinus rhythm.
“Beautiful, beautiful!” Webster says with awe. He loves the normal sinus rhythm. Loves it. “Way to go, Susan!” Webster says, pretending to high-five the woman.
“ETA,” he shouts to Powell.
“Two minutes.”
“Step on it.”
When they reach the ER, a med tech and a nurse run out to the bay and take over. After the ER has transferred the patient from the rig stretcher to the hospital’s, the probie rolls it back to the rig. Webster heads for the medic room and completes his report: what they saw and what they did. He tears off the ER copy, takes it back to the cubicle, and lays it across Susan’s legs.
“Good work,” says the attending. “I was sure you were bringing in a DOA.”
Webster shrugs and nods.
Back in the bay, Webster sees that the rig’s back doors are closed, indicating that it has been cleaned and disinfected. Powell is in the driver’s seat already. Webster climbs in and faces the kid.
“You lied about the BP,” he says to the newbie.
Powell has red circles on his cheeks. His ears are enormous. “I couldn’t get it.”
Webster doesn’t need to raise his voice. “Never lie. Never. Just tell me you can’t get it. A wrong BP can lead to wrong treatment. And wrong treatment can lead to a disaster. Do you understand me?”
The probie nods his head.
“And what the hell was that with the IV bag?” Webster asks. “You could have shocked yourself to Montreal.”
“I didn’t think,” the rookie says.
“You didn’t think. From now on, probie, think. Think so much your brain hurts. Every move, every procedure. I can’t have a situation where I’ve got two patients on the floor.”
“No, sir.”
Webster rolls his eyes. “Everyone you come in contact with for the next week, I want you to take his BP. I see you without the cuff, you’re suspended. I want you taking BPs twenty, thirty times a day. We clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The name is Webster. You can’t say your partner’s name, you’re going to have a real problem. Let’s go.”
The ambulance rolls out into the night. On the horizon is the first lining of dawn.
Webster leans his head back and closes his eyes. He hasn’t had a save in three months. He smiles. Nothing better than waking up the dead.
Webster sits in the cruiser, uniform on, the field not twenty feet from him. The kids are used to his car. Even the uniform won’t bother anyone. He checks his watch. He has maybe a half hour before he has to report to Rescue. During the season, he tries to get to as many games as he can.
Today, he feels the need to see something normal taking place—something so far removed from what he does for a living and his visit to Sheila that he might as well be in Kansas. At some point, he’ll have to tell Rowan about his trip to Chelsea. What the hell will he say? I found your mother, but she wants nothing to do with you?
He locks the cruiser and walks, with his hands in his pockets, to the end of the bleachers. The girls have games on Saturdays and Wednesdays, mostly Wednesdays, which allows Rowan to keep her job. He can’t tell what inning it is because there’s no scoreboard. He could ask, but he doesn’t need to socialize. He knows most of the parents in the bleachers—by sight, if not by name. He’s been sitting with them for years at one game or another. Rowan, in her maroon uniform, plays first base, her reach and her stride long, her arm accurate. She likes the spot because it provides her with action.
The runner is off the bag two long steps. Rowan, glove extended, is watching the pitcher for any sign of a pickoff. Webster hopes for a double play. He’s made it to about half the softball games this season. Just watching his daughter on the field brings back memories of sitting for hours during Little League games when Rowan was six, seven years old. Rowan with her cap too big for her, her T-shirt hanging down to her knees, running as if she had a load in her pants. At some point, her posture changed and with it her center of gravity, but those early years were the great ones.
The batter gives the ball a good wallop. Rowan leaps into the air to catch it. The runner takes off to second and keeps going when she sees that Rowan has missed it and that the ball has