Redemption (3)

Dave was hovering over me like a mama bear. One of the other nurses had called him back downstairs when I'd thrown up. I appreciated it, but it was also irritating. I had my head between my knees to deal with the dizziness and could see his foot tapping. Not in impatience though. It was moving too quickly.

"Annie, two things-" He started. I held my hand up and waved him off. He passed a cool washcloth to me. I wiped my face, laid the facecloth on the desk and placed my cheek on it. I opened one eye to look at him. He was holding a syringe in one hand and something else in the other.

"Dave -" I started.

"Oh no, you're taking this Gravol." He pushed my sleeve up and swabbed my deltoid quickly before injecting the contents of the syringe into my arm.

"Ow. You suck at that."

"Cry me a river. Go lay down in the staff room. I'll drive you home on my break."

"I'm not sick, Dave."

"Annie, you know you can't stay at work if you've been puking." I took my facecloth and headed toward the staffroom, walking past Jake's room in the process. I leaned in the door.

"Just so you know, it wasn't because of you. I wasn't feeling so hot coming in tonight, and probably should have stayed home. I thought you were lovely in 'Home', but the dude who plays Thor is more my speed." I smiled weakly. Jake let out a bark of laughter.

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind while I'm considering who to allow to visit me."

"I hope your surgery goes well, Jake."

***

I awoke the next evening with the same nausea. Instead of avoiding eating, I made myself a cup of soup and ate some crackers and felt infinitely better. I debated calling in sick, but until the insurance came through, I had a mortgage to pay, and bills coming in. I had to truly be sick. I knew it wasn't a virus. I had no symptoms, no fever, and I'd only thrown up the one time.

While I showered, I weighed my options, and finally decided it would be a better plan to just go in to work. I just hoped we would be fully staffed.

Dave was waiting in the locker room, leaning against my locker when I arrived.

"Are you sure you aren't contagious?"

"No fever, no further episodes of vomiting, no other symptoms whatsoever. I'm tired, run down and feeling stressed. I think you remember how I was in nursing school." Dave had been in most of my classes through school. I'm quite sure he remembered by tendency to faint, barf and otherwise get physically ill any time I was stressed.

"I'll be watching you."

"I appreciate that, creepy nurse." I shoved him out of the way, and got ready for work. He handed me a cup of coffee as we headed into report.

"Dude's been asking for you, by the way."

"Who?" I asked, completely perplexed. Dave gave me the look. The one that asked, in one simple raised eyebrow, if I was a complete and utter moron. I wracked my brain. Surely he didn't mean the movie star.

"The actor?"

"None other. Apparently made the dayshift crazy. Wanted to know if you were okay. If you were working tonight. If you were married." He rolled his eyes, "That was understandably an awkward one for all of them."

"Whatever. I don't believe you."

***

His call bell was lit up right as report ended. I sighed and walked into his room.

"Mr. James?" I reached above his head and turned off the light. He smiled broadly.

"You must be feeling better."

"What did you need, Mr. James?" I tried to keep the flush from my cheeks, but just remembering the previous night was humiliating in the extreme.

"I'm glad to see you're back."

"Is that all?" I could see why he'd made Days crazy.

"Actually, I really don't feel too hot. They weren't able to do the surgery today, and I've been feeling crappy all afternoon."

"I'll see if you can have something for pain. I'll be right back, Mr. James." I turned to leave, but his hand found mine and stopped me.

"It's not pain. I feel weak." I narrowed my eyes and took a good look at him. His colour was crap. He was kind of sweaty. I dashed from the room and got an oxygen monitor. When I came back, I raised the head of the bed, and checked his oxygen levels. They were low. His heart rate was high.

"I'll be right back, Mr. James." I dashed out again to grab some oxygen tubing and called for Dave. I told him to page the doctor, and order a portable chest x-ray and get respiratory up STAT for arterial blood gases. Dave nodded and picked up the phone without a word. I hooked Jake up to the wall oxygen and kept the oxygen monitor on his finger. His pulse was slowly climbing, and his oxygen level was really not improving. I tapped my foot and stared out the door, checking his pulse with my fingers to double check. The doctor rounded the corner into his room and looked at me expectantly.

"I think he has an F.E. I've ordered ABGs and a portable chest x-ray, but I think you should move him downstairs." The doctor looked at the oxygen monitor, nodded and left the room.

"What's going on?" Jake asked. I was cut off from answering by the x-ray tech coming in, and shooing me out of the room. I waited outside the door, and reentered with the respiratory tech.

"Okay, Mr. James -" I started.

"Please just call me Jake. I've been telling you that since you came on." He interrupted. I blanched but continued.

"Jake. This is Mike, from respiratory. They're the keep you breathing people. He's going to give you this crazy looking oxygen mask and get you perked up. I have to go talk to the doctor. I'll explain everything else when I get back, okay?" I waited for his answer. He nodded, and looked over to Mike, who was hooking up the crazy Star Wars mask. I headed to the doctor.

"He's getting confused. His temperature is up to 39.6. His pulse is 154 and getting erratic and his sats are down to 61%. You need to move him before he codes." Jake had a fat embolism. I was not allowed to diagnose, but I knew that was what it was. It sometimes happened with fractures and breaks of the long bone in the leg. The doctor nodded.

"The ICU has a bed free, can you take him down?" He handed me the chart. I turned and headed back into Jake's room. I spoke while I unplugged his bed and kicked the brake.

"Jake, we're moving you to a different ward, and I'm going to explain why. We think you've got what's called a fat embolism, which happens when the marrow escapes from the long bones. It causes all kinds of exciting things, like the high pulse, and low oxygen, which is why you feel like crap right now. You following me?" I tugged the bed out from the wall, and steered it toward the door. Dave fell in at the foot of the bed and helped me move down to the elevator. Jake nodded.

"It's also making you confused, and can put your lungs and heart at risk. So as a precautionary measure, we're taking you down to the ICU, and your doctor is going to make sure you are okay and fully safe to have that surgery. That means he might need to ventilate you. I don't know how familiar you are with medical terms, but that means he might need to put a tube down your throat."

Jake's eyes widened and he said something, but I didn't catch it through his oxygen mask. He pulled it away.

"You need to stay with me."

"Jake, I work on surgery. I'm not trained as an ICU nurse. They're much more capable of taking care of you." I put the mask back down on his face. He shook his head and grabbed at my hand, again speaking into the mask.

"I'll get you settled, okay?" I offered. He sighed but wouldn't let go of my hand, which made pushing the bed kind of awkward once the elevator stopped. One of the ICU nurses was waiting for us and helped us get him into the unit. We transferred him into the ICU bed and I quickly gave report. Jake reached for me again as I was talking to the ICU nurse. I rested my hand on his bed rail, and his fingers closed around mine briefly, then slacked and shook a little. Both the ICU nurse and I turned in time to see his eyes roll back in his head as he began to convulse.