Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
M ichael came in the limo with me. On the way, we had a good laugh about our times together and how many times we’d worked the same cases and commiserated afterward over a glass of beer or in my case, a shot of vodka.
“I’m so glad you could come and help out,” he said, shaking his head. “Of all the surgeons I’ve worked with over the years, and there have been many, you were the first one I considered. I knew I was asking a lot of you, given you have a young daughter and an older son with special needs, not to mention a beautiful wife. But I also knew I could count on you to help in a crisis. So, this is me thanking you one more time.”
I smiled and nodded. “I could never say no to you, Michael. Not in a crisis. Hell, I could never say no to you not in a crisis. You need me, I’m there. You’ve been there for me over the years. I’ll never forget that. Plus, it’s what my father would do. Anywhere, everywhere, right away if there was need.”
He exhaled. “Dear Liam. How I miss the heroic bastard.”
We said nothing for a moment, both of us thinking of my father and how he was a hero in every sense of the word, working at the drop of a hat for Doctors Without Borders when he could have kept a very lucrative and sane schedule at his practice in the United States.
Dying because he was so committed to answering the call in any emergency and his plane crashed on an emergency call.
I hoped I inherited some of his character. In comparison to him, I had a pretty easy life, so far. Yes, there had been a few difficult experiences, but I’d lived a better life than most humans who ever lived on the planet, and I tried not to forget it, even when I had to face adversity.
“I miss him, too. Pretty much think of him every day at some point.”
Michael smiled. “That’s the think about your loved ones, parents, children. Brothers. Sisters. They’re always with you, even if only in your memories.”
We arrived back at the hotel, and I thanked my driver, gave him an extra big tip and asked him to wait around for Michael’s return trip when our little party was over.
He tipped his hat and opened the door for us.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay up with you and the crew,” I said, yawning as we entered the front of the hotel. “I could fall asleep standing up.”
“Not tonight you won’t,” he said. “Just one drink to celebrate. I had a response from two of my top contenders, who have accepted my offer. Unfortunately, they won’t be able to start until the beginning of next month, so I hope you can agree to stay on until then. I know,” he said and stopped me, his hand on my shoulder. “I know I said a month or less, but that’s the easiest they could start, given existing contracts. You understand…”
I sighed. I’d been hoping that my stay at the hospital in Nairobi would be over in two weeks at most, but this meant a whole month.
“I said I’d do it, and I will,” I replied and put my hand on his shoulder. “Kate is leaving New York tomorrow, and so at least she and Sophie will be here to keep me company when I’m done at the hospital.”
“Good, good. I can’t wait to see them both again. Right now, I’m parched. Let’s get a drink, shall we?”
“Lead on, Macduff.”
He laughed at my reference to Shakespeare’s play Macbeth.
He stopped. “You realize that in the play, Macduff kills Macbeth, and that the actual quote is ‘Lay on, Macduff, ’ right?”
“You’re going to spoil the mood, old man,” I said with a laugh.
We entered the brightly lit interior of the hotel and went directly to the bar, which was at the west side of the hotel next to its lavish restaurant. The bar was busy, with a dozen or so patrons sitting at tables or drinking at the long bar with ornate brass fixings. Some music was playing over the sound system, and there were even a few people up dancing on the small dance floor.
I was honestly too tired to be there, let alone having a drink or dancing, but I wanted to make Michael happy. I took in a deep breath and put on a smile when we saw a few of our staff sitting at a large table to the side of the room.
The one staff member I did not want to see was there as well.
Sam Cuttington.
If I never saw her face again, it would be too soon.
I felt a vague sense of unease and decided to make sure I sat nowhere near her for the entire night. If she joined my table, or tried to make conversation, I’d excuse myself and leave, using a text as an excuse.
Most of all, I hated that she could force proximity to me whenever she wanted because we worked together at the same hospital again. Since I’d reported her and she’d been disciplined, lost her job, and was reinstated on an emergency basis, we had only passed each other in the hall.
I hoped it stayed that way until this was over, and she was gone.
“I’ll get us a drink,” I said and pointed to the bar. “Do you want your usual?”
“Yes, thanks,” Michael said and pointed to an empty table next to the group. “Join me there.”
I nodded and went to the bar to order us drinks — a craft beer for Michael and a bottle of water for me. I didn’t want to drink at all, because I was exhausted and wanted to stay awake so I could Skype with Kate and Sophie as soon as I could reasonably escape to my room. Then, drinks in hand, I went over to the table where Michael was seated. He’d been joined by a couple of staff members, and they were laughing when I sat down and passed him his beer.
“What’s that?” He pointed at my bottle of water with a frown. “Water? This is supposed to be fun. You’re getting old, young man.”
I laughed. “I have to be sober for my nightly Skype with my beautiful wife and wonderful daughter.”
I glanced around and raised my bottle of water. “Cheers, and thanks to everyone for your hard work in a crisis.”
I noted that Sam was frowning at me, and I wondered if it was my reference to my beautiful wife and child. Regardless, I opened the bottle and had a long drink of the cool fresh water.
The four of us spoke for a while about the floods, about the workload, and about the game of soccer that was being replayed on the flatscreens around the room. Nairobi residents and the guests of the hotel were all rabid soccer fans. It was impossible to escape soccer.
We sat and drank our drinks, chatted about work and the weather, and before long, Michael got us another round of drinks.
Then another.
Soon enough, I was feeling more relaxed. Sam hadn’t done or said anything that would indicate she was angry at me. Then, when I was up at the bar getting another bottle of water, Sam sidled up next to me.
“You’re no fun tonight.” She smiled, but I could see hate in her eyes all the same.
“I have an early surgery,” I said and grabbed the bottle of water and glass of beer for Michael.
“You used to be more fun, if I remember correctly. You loved doing shots. I seem to remember vodka shots off my belly or between my breasts.”
I said nothing and started walking back to the table. “I’m a happily married man now. And like I said, I want to be in good shape for tomorrow.”
“Party pooper. I just bought you a vodka martini. With olives, if I remember correctly. Consider it a peace offering. If we’re going to work together for the next few weeks, we can at least be civil towards each other.”
She pointed to the table and sure enough, there was a martini sitting there with a couple of olives on a toothpick. “One vodka — how could that hurt?”
“Thanks. You’re right. We should be civil to each other if we’re going to work together. But as I said to the group, I have a Skype session with my beautiful wife and wonderful daughter coming up. Don’t want either of them to see me drunk.”
I went to the table and sat down, handing Michael his beer. Then, I pointed to the martini.
“Sam bought me a martini, but I’m not drinking. So, if anyone likes them, please be Sam’s guest. Right, Sam?”
She sat across from me and pasted on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. “Of course. We’re not all grumpy old men.”
Michael laughed out loud at that. “Speak for yourself!”
He reached out and took the martini. “Miranda will take it, won’t you?”
“I’d love it. Never had one with an olive before.”
“Cheers to grumpy old men,” Michael said. “May we all be so lucky as to get old and grumpy. I know quite a few of my contemporaries who haven’t gotten this far. I’m happy to be one.”
Everyone held up their glass and toasted grumpy old men. Across from me, Sam was not at all happy, although she raised her glass as well.
I really wanted to be upstairs in a few moments so I could enjoy a Skype goodnight with Kate and Sophie, so I let my mind wander while others were speaking of something.
I couldn’t wait to get up to my hotel room so I could speak with her.
I had glanced at my watch, hoping I could finally excuse myself when I heard a cough, and beside me, saw that Miranda was holding her throat. Her mouth was moving but then, no sound was coming out. She knew enough as a nurse to make the universal sign that she was choking, and I knew right away what the problem was.
She had accidentally inhaled the olive.
I jumped up and went behind her, sliding my arms around her to lift her up and away from the table, then I pounded her five times on the back, followed by putting one of my fists above her belly, performing the Heimlich maneuver five times in a row to dislodge the olive that was blocking her airway.
When she was still unable to speak and was still motioning to her throat, I repeated the five strikes in the middle of her back followed by five more Heimlich maneuvers. I struggled with her as she was a bit wide around the middle and made a few bigger thrusting motions with my fist and arm, but the obstruction had not yet cleared. This went on for several moments — I lost count and then she seemed to go limp in my arms.
She had passed out because of lack of oxygen…
This made me more determined. One, two and then three more thrusts and finally, the olive came flying out of her mouth and onto the table in front of her.
She coughed and gagged, and I heard the deep intake of her breath and knew she was able to breathe once more. Her eyelids flickered. She was still gasping for breath. She held her chest, her hands over her heart.
I laid her on the floor in the recovery position, on her side in case she had to vomit.
“What’s wrong, Miranda, love?” Michael asked, kneeling beside her. He leaned over her, his face near hers. “Can you speak?”
“My chest…” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
I felt her pulse which was fast and thready. Every third beat was an extra beat called premature ventricular contractions, or PVCs. She was in her fifties and was at risk of a heart attack because of the stress from the choking.
“Call 9-1-1,” I said. “Let’s get an ambulance. She needs to go to the hospital.”
One of the nurses held up her hand and showed me she was online with 9-1-1 operators. “An ambulance is on its way.”
“Good,” I said and knelt beside Miranda and Michael. “Help is on its way.” I glanced around and saw one of the waiters. “Do you have a portable defibrillator in the hotel?”
“I’ll go check,” the man said and pointed out to the main lobby.
“Thanks.”
I turned back to Michael. “Depending on how long it takes, we may need to use it.”
“Oh, God.”
Luckily, in a few moments, the ambulance came before the waiter returned with the portable defibrillator and checked Miranda out. Then, they loaded her onto a gurney and wheeled her out of the hotel into the back of a waiting ambulance.
I had already asked my limo driver to wait so he could take Michael home when we were finished.
“Do you want me to have my driver take you there?” I asked Michael.
“Yes, please,” he said, his arm on my shoulder.
“I’ll come with you,” I said together, we went out to the waiting limo. We piled in and I directed the driver to take us to the hospital, following the ambulance.
We spoke on the way about the event, and how Miranda had briefly lost consciousness. How the stress of the choking could have given her an irregular heartbeat.
“She’s young enough,” I said, trying to comfort him. “She’s going to get first-rate care. She’ll be fine.”
He gave me a half-hearted smile, but I knew, and he knew as well that it wasn’t necessarily so.
We arrived and went into the ER following the gurney, showing the nurse at admitting our credentials. Then, Michael went to the ER room where Miranda was being seen by one of the ER docs.
I waited out in the ER waiting room.
It was only then that I thought about Kate and Sophie and their Skype call with me. I checked my watch — it was nearly eleven thirty.
I reached for my cell to text Kate that I would be even later than I expected, only to find it was not in my pocket.
Then, I remembered I had it on the table, watching in case Kate texted me. I must have left back in the bar because of the confusion.
I glanced around and went to the Admitting desk to speak with one of the nurses.
“Is there a payphone somewhere? I need to make a call and lost my cell.”
She pointed down the hallway. “If you go to the main lobby, there’s a gift shop that’s open until midnight. They have cell phones you can buy and payment cards.”
“Ah, thanks. Will do.”
I followed the arrows on the walls for the hospital lobby and found the gift shop, which was indeed still open.
I bought a cell and a card with international minutes and called right away, but my call didn’t go through. It didn’t even go to voice mail, which was unusual. Then I remembered that you could block unknown international numbers, so you aren’t inundated with spam.
Damn…
I sent a text to her to let her know I would be late. Back home, it was just four thirty in the afternoon.
I hoped she would see the text and not worry, but unless my text went through, there was no way to be sure. The little icon beside my message didn’t show that my message was received.
I went back to the ER waiting room, and sat in a chair, waiting for Michael to come out and let me know how Miranda was doing. Hopefully, Kate would check her cell and at least she would know I tried to get in touch with her. I didn’t want her worrying about me, given the flooding in the city.
I couldn’t wait for this day to finally end…
Once back at the hotel, I checked in at the front desk to see if anyone had turned in a lost cell, but no such luck. No doubt someone had picked it up and decided to sell it at a local pawn shop. A phone as nice and new as mine would be worth quite a lot to the local people.
I shrugged and went to bed after sending Kate a final text, hoping she’d check her messages despite the fact they were from a number that had no ID attached.