Page 5 of Unforgettable
Somewhere in the distance, a voice surfaced. It was hushed … faint … urgent.
“Stay with me. Can you hear me? You’re in good hands. Stay with me!”
Randi couldn’t move.
She couldn’t speak.
She couldn’t feel.
No. Wait. That wasn’t true.
She began to feel some … thing. It slowly began to surface. A burning. A tearing pain, so sharp, it didn’t feel real. Her eyes welled with tears and overflowed.
The voice returned.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m Dr. Reagan. Stay with me, Randi?”
Stay where? Doctor? What is happening?
Her eyes, her vision became blurred by something wet, thick, and warm slowly gliding down her forehead. She attempted to lift her right hand to wipe the liquid away.
Her right hand.
Was it there? Why couldn’t she raise it?
Darkness edged her vision, slowly spreading. disappearing.
But one thought broke through the chaos, clear and absolute:
I can’t feel my hand.
And then …total darkness … nothingness.
CHAPTER 2
Later that afternoon, the sky hadn’t changed. It was still blue, still calm, still welcoming.
Brew stepped through the automatic exit doors, heading toward his black Lexus sedan, anxious to begin the start of his early evening and next two days off. He was still on call. A man in his position always was.
He reached for the door handle, entered his car, managed to exit the parking lot, and headed toward the Hilton on Broadway where he was staying until his townhouse was being renovated.
It was only a short ten-minute drive, and he hoped to shower, shave, and enjoy a quiet steak dinner with a few glasses of his favorite Sauvignon. No sooner didthe thought occur than his pager beeped.
He sighed heavily, shaking his head and unclipped the pager from his belt buckle. The text read: “Thirty-five-year-old female. Severe trauma to right hand with possible partial amputation. Significant blood loss. ETA four minutes. Air Trauma.”
He knew that attempting to save her hand and the next forty-eight hours would be dedicated entirely to her. As he rerouted his way back to the Center, he prayed.
“Akansha, Maker of All Things, I ask you to clear my mind and steady my hands, that they may move with the precision and grace of the eagle. Open my eyes to see clearly what needs to be mended and give me the wisdom to act with excellence.
Bless this woman, who must blindly trust myself and my team.Guide us through a successful journey today, and may this patient return safely to the "good road" of health and her family. A’ho.”
There was no hesitation. His surgical team was standing in Emergency awaiting his orders.
Millie, his head surgical nurse met him with a sympathetic pat on his forearm.
“How far did you get this time?”
“To N Broadway,” he shrugged. “What do we have so far?”
