Chapter 39 - Cat
Cat
“What is your approach?”
“We need to start the patient on a round of beta-blockers and stabilize them before moving to imaging. I’ll call cardio, but I suspect they’ll want to place a stent, maybe two,” Isa says confidently as my eyes dart over the chart.
“Yes, move forward.” I nod. “Oh, and Isa,” I add as she turns away, “what are you and Carmen doing this Saturday?”
Her face flushes, and her eyes sparkle at my question. Even though they have been seeing each other for a while now, the novelty of being an official couple still brings out the jitters in both of them. I love reminding them of that.
“We were hoping to go to that new place on Main Street,” she hums, “but nothing is set in stone. Why?”
“Do you want to come with Mary and me to the beach? We have something to celebrate.”
Something in Isa shifts as I extend the invitation, and her eyes light up. She nods, quietly but determinedly.
“I shall let Car know. Do you want us to bring anything?”
“Maybe some snacks. I’ll bring a cooler, and was thinking we could have dinner at Baia.” I pause, and Isa raises her eyebrow in question. “I mean, it’s a celebration. Baia would be better than Plaza Mexico, no?”
“Ah, Cat, claro que no.” Her voice comes out warm but stern. “This is Mary we’re talking about. She doesn’t care for fancy white tablecloths and expensive wines. She wants warmth, family, home.”
I nod. She is right. Of course, she is right, and I know this. That’s why I hesitated.
“I just don’t want her to think that this milestone doesn’t deserve something grand.”
“Grand is not tied to money.” Isa smiles. “It will mean so much more to her if she can spend it in comfort and with joy than in cold luxury that doesn’t allow her to be herself. Make a reservation at Plaza.”
She squeezes my arm before turning, and once again I wonder how I got so lucky with all these beautiful people in my life.
I huff a soft laugh, earning me a surprised look from the nurses at the station, and walk over to one of the available computers.
I am about to log in when the radio comes to life.
The radio nurse darts her fingers over the keyboard while she answers the call, and I do not pay much attention to it until she goes completely quiet.
I glance over my shoulder to see her frozen in her seat.
“ETA?” she croaks, her voice hoarse.
Her eyes dart up and find Wilder, who has just walked in. She raises a single eyebrow in question at her co-worker, the concern visible on her face.
“Turn on the news,” the woman mouths, and Wilder instantly moves.
I rise from my seat and turn toward the small TV mounted in the corner.
The moment the channel switches, the impact is clear.
Cold seeps into my bones while the images of a broken plane scattered all over the highway flash across the screen.
The bay becomes silent when every head turns toward the scene.
We all know what is about to happen, what we need to do, but somehow none of us seem ready. We never seem ready, yet we always are.
“Listen up,” the Radio Nurse calls, and I blink myself back into reality. “We have an estimated thirty casualties coming in, ten critical. ETA five minutes.”
“All right, Mitchells, empty as many beds as you can. Andrews, prep the trauma bays. I want every room stocked with supplies. Paulson, secure as much O-neg as you can. Let’s move.”
Wilder instantly slips into charge nurse mode.
She doesn’t waste a single second but hands out the commands while her eyes cut sharply through the room.
When they land on mine, she gives me a small nod.
The message is clear. Truce. At least for now.
We are in this together. Lives are at stake, and we can’t have our personal issues come between us. I return the nod.
“Whitman, page Roberts and Honda. You’re with me for triage. Where the hell is Carmen?”
My eyes glide over the trauma bay, but my best friend is nowhere to be seen.
“She is with a patient. Want me to page her?”
“She’ll be here soon enough. Cancel all surgeries for this morning.”
I grab the phone and press the number while my eyes glide over the bay once more. The waiting area is buzzing, but not filled to capacity.
“Parkinson.”
“Durand here. Activate disaster protocol. Page all additional staff.”
The words roll off my tongue like the practiced mantra that they are, but settle in my stomach like heavy stones.
By the time I finish the call, my heart is slamming against my chest. It’s ironic that the reason I became a trauma surgeon in the first place is also the one thing I can never get used to.
“Hey, baby,” Mary’s voice sounds a little shaken behind me.
I whirl around to see her standing with two cups of coffee in her hands. Shit.
“Maria,” I whisper, just as Honda comes running.
“Catherine?”
His eyes dart to Mary, and he squints slightly, but refrains from commenting. I throw her an apologetic look, roll my shoulders back, and snap back into trauma mode.
“Mass casualty coming in. Expect burns, blunt trauma, amputations—”
His face goes white.
“What happened?”
“Plane crashed on the highway. You’re running secondary triage.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“And James?”
He turns to face me.
“I need you out there.”
His jaw twitches, and his eyes dart back to Mary before finding mine. I feel an additional rush of adrenaline flooding my system, spiking my nervous system. Then something in his face softens.
“You can count on me.”
He is off before I can respond. There is no need. I can’t tell yet if he has made his peace, but today, we will all work as a team.
“ETA?”
“Thirty seconds.”
“To the bay, move.”
I turn to face Mary. Her eyes are large as she takes in the madness around her. She has never seen this, seen me like this, and she is not going to.
“Baby, you need to go. Now.”
It is not a question but not exactly a command either.
Too soft, too personal. I can’t bring myself to usher her out like I would any other civilian.
She’s mine. But she doesn’t argue. She snaps out of it, nods, and walks away without another question.
And somehow, she still manages to leave the promise behind. Later.
I rush to the entrance to join my team right as the doors swing open. An EMT is kneeling over the patient on the gurney, driving compressions into his chest with all his weight. The patient’s chest sinks under each press. Whitman snaps to attention.
“Male, sixty-five, crush injuries. Lost pulse five minutes ago. Patient is not responsive to epi.”
Her eyes dart to mine.
“Black.”
I nod.
The next victim already rolls in before we can process it.
***
It is almost midnight when I finally step back into my office, the events of the day pressing down on me like a weighted blanket.
We lost twenty-one patients today, five of them children, more than half of the casualties that came in.
The numbers have never been this high, but then again…
we have never experienced a plane crash before, either.
The fallout was horrible. All the passengers were dead on impact except for one young boy.
Thirteen years old, his leg ripped clean off him, and somehow, he managed to stay conscious for the whole ride.
He lost everything in that crash. His parents, his sister, and the only uncle he had left were all pronounced dead while the paramedics were working on stabilizing him.
He will not only have vivid flashbacks of the crash, but will also have to deal with survivor’s guilt.
This boy will carry that moment with him until his very last day.
I run my hand over my face and sink into the chair. My head throbs, my back aches, and I can’t even feel my feet anymore. I’m completely and utterly spent. Even my emotions have been drained out of me.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and stare at the black screen for a good two minutes before I realize I need to actually turn it on to see something. My thumb flicks over it, revealing a missed from my parents, a voicemail from an unknown number, and a text from Mary.
04:13 p.m. – Mary Mary
Hey, baby, I know you will not see this until after, but I didn’t want you to sit with it alone.
I have no idea what has happened or how bad it was, but I know it wasn’t good.
And I know you will feel that. Take whatever time you need.
I will be here. If you want me to come to the hospital, let me know.
04:15 p.m. – Mary Mary
Te quiero
Despite my state, my lips tick up in a brief smile. My fingers dart over the keyboard.
00:03 a.m. – Katherina
Te quiero también, amor. I’ll be home soon.
I tuck my phone away, remove my coat, and take off my sneakers.
The benefit of having your own office is not having to use the changing room every single day.
I slide into my heels, wincing a little at the protest of my feet, and pull on my jacket before I slip out the door.
The movements are mechanical, like I am on autopilot.
I don’t stop to question it. This is what will get me home, what will get me to Mary.
And right now, that’s the only thing I want to be thinking about.
I shuffle through the now nearly deserted and quiet hallway.
The two nurses at the night station look equally exhausted.
Their jaws are tight, their eyes glued to the screens, the silence laced with the fragility of dropped cortisol and insulin levels.
They still nod as I walk past them. Days like today bring us all closer, and in this moment, I’m feeling it more than ever.
I take out my phone again, open the Domino’s app, and order a dozen pizzas to be delivered to the bay before pushing through the door.
The waiting room is still filled with people.
Patients who likely had to wait the whole day to see somebody and at one point refused to go home because they’d already wasted all that time.
I’d almost pity them if it weren’t for them now keeping the night crew slammed as well, which will result in a backed-up queue in the morning.
At least they had the decency to be hushed in the lull of the night.
I’m so tired that I don’t even register the ride home. I really shouldn’t be driving in these conditions, but all I want is to crawl into bed with Mary instead of spending the night in some on-call room.
When I open the door, the warm light washes over me, and the scent of garlic and tomatoes wafts toward me.
There is a soft humming in the kitchen, and when I find my way there, Mary is swaying her hips to some imaginary music while stirring something in a pan.
It smells divine. I walk over and slide my arms around her waist. She startles for a breath, but then relaxes back into me.
“Hola, mi amor. You are still awake.”
“Hi, baby,” she hums and turns her head so that she can kiss the corner of my mouth. “I just wanted you to have something warm to put in your stomach after today.”
I gaze at her, my eyes pricking with tears that have no business showing up.
“You cooked for me, even though you didn’t know what time I’d be home?”
“Of course,” she states simply. “Or, well… I tried.”
Her voice is more hesitant now, and I quirk a questioning eyebrow.
“I made ropa vija, but it is my first time, so I’m not sure if it is any good. I mean, it tastes good to me, but what do I know? I only had the—”
I cut her off with a deep, hard kiss, turning her in my arms so I can pull her closer against me. I squeeze my eyes closed, but the tears fall anyway. What did you do to get this lucky, Katherina? I don’t know what, but I’m happy I did.