She hadn’t even taken a break to pee.
Might be wishful thinking, but she hoped things would be different once she was on shift as a provider. She loved being a nurse, always had, but had never been great at taking directions from other people. She’d still report to a physician once she officially made the move, but she’d also have more autonomy than she did now.
She didn’t expect things to be less stressful, per se, but in most situations the more control she had, the better she fared. She’d take on more liability, but also had room to be part of the decision-making team. She’d be the one ordering medications rather than giving them, the one interpreting and responding to lab results rather than the one drawing the blood. Each piece was critical to do well, but she was ready for a change.
Progress in the love department hadn’t budged in a long time, so she focused on taking a step up in her career instead.
Sirens in the distance edged closer and finally shut off when the vehicle parked outside the unit. The doors to the ambulance entrance burst open and the standard flurry of movement commenced. Paramedics barked information to the receiving staff, and the attending physician who had been alerted of the incoming patient shouted orders and demands to get out of his way as they wheeled the patient to the nearest trauma bay.
Claire glanced up briefly, planning to stay well out of the way at this point, but her eyes landed on a familiar face.
Noah stood just inside the doors, his face pale and eyes wild. It took her several long seconds to piece together why he was here, and why he’d come through the ambulance entrance. Fear shot through her like a bolt of lightning, and she jumped to her feet, catching a glimpse of the patient’s lower half before the door swung shut to the trauma bay.
Pushing aside the unnatural angle of his right leg, her brain homed in on the green shorts—the same ones Graham often wore climbing.
She blinked twice before her brain caught up.
“Noah,” she cried out, and his eyes found hers. She stumbled toward him, pushing off the counter, but with each step her lungs squeezed tighter. She tried to breathe but her throat was closing in. At the edge of the nursing station she gripped a chair and slid to the floor, knowing she might pass out if she remained on her feet.
Noah was at her side immediately, kneeling down and with one hand on her shoulder.
“It’s Graham?”
He nodded, his expression grave. “I don’t know what happened. He was at the top of a cliff to anchor the rope. We haven’t top-roped in a while, but it’s basic, beginner stuff and I’ve seen him do it a hundred times. I noticed he didn’t anchor himself first, but I don’t know why. I was at the bottom, waiting. We all were.” He shifted onto his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. “Claire, when he hit the ground I thought he was dead.”
Her stomach heaved and she whirled around to reach behind the counter for a trash can. By the time she’d emptied her stomach, Ruthie was there, her hand on Claire’s back. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Claire shook her head and lifted a shaking finger to the room where they’d taken Graham. “That’s my friend. My roommate.”
“Shit.” Ruthie’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “Hang tight. I’ll see if I can move your patients around, okay?”
Claire pressed a trembling hand to her forehead and nodded.
“But...you can’t go in there right now.” Ruthie’s eyes were empathetic but stern. “Okay?”
Claire’s whole body began to tremble, and Noah put an arm around her.
“Is there somewhere we can go?” he asked Ruthie. “While we wait?”
Ruthie finished tying the plastic bag and pulled it out of the trash can, then glanced around the ER. “Take her over there to pod 7. You can pull the curtain. I need to speak to a few people and I’ll be there soon, okay?”
Noah helped Claire to her feet, though as they crossed the shiny linoleum floor, she wasn’t quite sure who was supporting who. His skin had gone past white and was now tinted a shade of green, which could have been from witnessing Claire getting sick, or everything hitting him now that he was out of the enclosed environment of the ambulance.
He deposited Claire into a chair against the wall and pulled the curtain before he sat in the chair beside her.
She stared straight ahead at the clean hospital bed in the center of the room. “What did they say on the ride over?”
“A lot of stuff I didn’t understand,” Noah said. “Broken leg, but not through the skin. Likely concussion. Thank God he was wearing a helmet. They put a tube in his throat...” His voice cracked and he dropped his face into his hands.
They had to intubate him? Another wave of nausea crashed over her, and she slumped over and pressed her forehead to Noah’s shoulder. “Did they mention his blood pressure? Give him any medications?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
If they’d been required to give vasopressors to maintain blood pressure, Noah would have noticed. That was good. Hopefully it meant Graham hadn’t gone into shock, or lost so much blood he wasn’t perfusing.
Panic decreased a tiny, tiny notch.
“Was he awake?”
“Not when I first got to him. But he came to, seemed really confused, then passed out again.” Noah shuddered and pressed his palms to his eyes. “I—I can’t... This is too much like what happened with Nathan—”
Claire immediately put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Did you call Mia?”
“Not yet.”
“Call her. You need her.”
He sniffed and nodded, then pulled out his phone.
While he spoke to Mia, Claire stood and peeked out from the curtain, eyeing the room Graham was in. A few people came and went, and they weren’t running. Or covered in blood.
That was good.
Another tiny improvement in her mental state, but she wouldn’t completely calm down until she spoke to the doctor.
She needed answers, and needed to know exactly how bad it was.
Fractured tibia and fibula.
Concussion.
Bruised jaw.
Three bruised ribs and too many muscle and tendon strains to mention.
It could have been worse.
He’d spent several hours in the ER and was transferred to the ICU. Claire had been at his bedside for hours and so far ORL, ortho, trauma, and nutrition had been by.
For a man who liked attention, it was too bad he was so loaded on pain meds he couldn’t enjoy it.
Not that he’d be able to flap his gums at any of them, though—which would have been his favorite part. If he could talk, he’d say, “I’m fine” or “You shoulda seen that fall” or “No worries, I’ll be back on the side of a mountain in no time.”
But there would be no talking for a while. The doctors determined he didn’t need airway support and extubated him, but in the brief moments when he’d been awake he’d had trouble talking. It wasn’t common, but vocal cord injury from the tube was possible, and the doctor said even if he wanted to talk—which many people didn’t for several days because of throat pain—he might not be able to for a week or two.
Graham was gonna be pissed.
The leg would be an even bigger problem. It was a complete fracture that required surgery, which they’d take him away for any minute now. He’d need a cast and wouldn’t be able to put weight on it for several weeks. For the most active man she knew, Claire was certain when he came to and heard the news, he’d be devastated.
Over time he’d lose muscle and to regain function would need physical therapy. In fact, his ability to get back to the active lifestyle he loved was in question. He should be able to walk again, but doing things at the level he had before...it was possible he’d never be there again.
Patient rooms in the trauma ICU only allowed one visitor at a time, so Noah, Mia, and Chris were in the waiting room. Claire had rotated with the others at first, but finally used the excuse that as the only health care professional of the group she wanted to be present as the specialists came through. She knew which questions to ask and better understood the news they passed on.