“Victoria, right?” he asked, with a voice that was as rich and smooth as decadent chocolate.
“Uh, do I…know you?” I asked, peering into the darkness.
“No, but you’re the guest of honor, so I guess everyone knows you now, right?” he joked.
“Oh...right. Forgot I was announced earlier,” I said.
I looked away to break the awkwardness I felt standing alone in the dark with this stranger, a very good-looking stranger at that.
“Was I in your way out here?” His tone sounded amused, as one corner of his mouth lifted slightly into a smile.
“No, I just…I just like to take a little time to walk and enjoy the property when I come out here. This is one of my-favorite spots,” I lied, but at least it made sense…maybe?
“Yeah, your parents have a very nice property out here. It’s hard to believe that we’re only twenty minutes away from Dallas. Feels like true Texan country.” His eyes searched mine for longer than I felt comfortable, and I broke the gaze again to stare at the dark ground, “Although, it’s got to be a kinda hard to enjoy it when it’s too dark to see where you’re walking, don’t you think?” the man asked, repressing a laugh.
I did not find his joke funny, but I did find something else—my voice. Good looking or not, I would not be his punch line.
Okay Tree Man…you’re on.
“Well, I don’t really need much light since I’ve been out here a thousand times. I can understand though, how it might be a little harder for a guy who’s at a party for someone he’s never even met until now. Excuse me; I need to go check on my guests.”
My voice shook and my face burned from embarrassment as I turned away. As I headed toward the patio, begging my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I thought I heard him say, “That’s not entirely true.”
But I didn’t care to banter with him, not at my expense anyway.
After another round of hugs and false promises to stay in touch now that the prodigal child had returned, Stacie and I left the party. I was utterly exhausted. And for the first time since the accident, I thought about something other than that horrible night while riding in a car after dark.
I thought about the stranger at the bridge.
FOUR
After a lengthy process at security, I left with my new hospital ID badge in hand and took the elevator up to the 6th floor. Today was session two. My long weekend of thinking and rationalizing made me realize these sessions were just a means to an end. If I wanted to work—and I wanted to work—then I had to get through them. Facts only, of course.
The first half hour was filled with mindless information regarding my high school hobbies, my college experiences, roommates and a lot more detail about my relationship with my parents. At least the church history was easy enough—it was just that, history. I was feeling strong, capable and apathetic as usual, ready to take on the firing squad of questions that was sure to come next. Dr. Crane sat across from me, her legs crossed. After busily scratching on her notepad, she looked up, perfectly poised.
…and armed with her secret arsenal.
“Victoria…I know it must be difficult to talk about the events of April 9, 2010, but I want to hear them from you—in your own words. Take as much time as you need and I will only interject with questions if necessary. Please start prior to getting in your car that night. Let’s just see how far we can get today. If we need to continue at a later date we will.”
Her voice was gentle as she spoke. I wasn’t sure why, but that seemed to cause me to feel quite unsettled. I rubbed my hands on my knees.
Despite all my preparedness, the facts that circled in my head were difficult to separate from the relentless dreams and flashbacks that had made this nightmare my constant reality. It was a nightmare I had revisited every day for the past seventeen months. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, shoving down the vividness that had not lessened with time. My only goal was to try and speak from a place on the sidelines.
You can do this, Tori…tell her. Tell her the facts, then you can get back to work.
“It was a three day weekend in April, eight weeks before graduation. I was working at Dallas East, and studying for my Boards. That night was my sister’s birthday dinner held out at my parents’ house in Middleton. I got off late, so I was running behind schedule, but I made it in time for the dinner.”
Just in time to be seated and avoid the dirty looks from my mother. She would see my tardiness as rude, even though I had been awake for nearly twenty-six hours straight. She had no clue that I had just aided in an emergency C-section where both mother and baby were in critical condition when I left.
But there are no excuses in the Sales house.
“The party went well into the evening. After the cake and gifts, the guests started to leave. I had only had one day off, and I really wanted to get caught up on sleep so that I could study. When I left, I noticed a change in the temperature outside, but chalked it off to the weird weather patterns of Dallas. About two miles down the road, Stacie called and said there was a severe weather warning issued for all Collin and Dallas Counties. She told me I should turn around and go back and stay with them for the night.”
I paused; reflecting for a moment on what was my biggest regret from that night, and likely my whole life.
I had ignored her warning. I did not turn around.
Why didn’t I just turn around? I was too selfish and self-centered; I thought I was immortal.
Unfortunately, I was.
“But the roads and sky were clear, and I saw no immediate threat. I just wanted to get home. I thought I could get back to my apartment before the storm hit, but a few minutes after I hung up with Stacie, I heard the sirens start.”
“The tornado sirens?”
“Yes. Just seconds after I heard them I saw the first lightning flash, and then felt the rumble of the thunder.”
I paused again. This time it took longer to push the memory down and find the facts.
What were the facts?
“You’re doing great, Victoria, please continue,” she said, leaning into my space.
The hail came next.
“The hail started. It came down hard and fast. I slowed my car some, but the tornado sirens urged me to find shelter as quickly as possible. The hail continued to get more intense and larger in size. I thought it was going to come right through the roof of my Honda. The buildup of hail on the ground made it slick and I couldn’t see anything. The power on the road had gone out and I couldn’t even see the yellow divider between the two lanes anymore. There was no shoulder to pull off to and no shelter nearby.”
I shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, rubbing my palms on my knees, creating friction.
“As I approached a slight curve I saw the headlights of an oncoming car. I was trying to pull over to the far right of my lane, but had barely started to slow when the back of the oncoming car appeared out of the hail. It all happened so fast.”
Dr. Crane sat looking at me intensely, no longer writing on her notepad. She waited for me to continue.
“As my front bumper slammed into the rear wheel of the driver’s side, both vehicles spun to opposite sides of the road. I got out of my car the second I came to and crawled across the road to the other vehicle. It had spun completely around and was pointing back in the direction it had come from.
“The hail had shifted back to hard rain when I reached up, opened the front passenger door and looked inside. When my vision focused, I saw the driver slumped down in the seat, unconscious. I crawled across the seat, assessed her injuries and was able to support her neck with a jacket that I found on the floor. I looked in the back and noticed the passenger door was ajar. That’s when I saw the empty booster seat.”
“Victoria...I hate to stop there for today, but we are almost out of time and I have a patient right after you. We can pick up there during our next session, but I am curious as to your own injuries sustained that night. You said you crawled across the road?
Why was that, were you in shock?”
I still am.
“I didn’t care much about my injuries. I’m a nurse, I’m trained to help others,” I said quickly, the hardness of my tone breaking my voice.
“But you did have injuries, correct?” she asked, again.
“Yes. I sustained two cracked ribs, a laceration to my forehead along with a concussion, but nothing major.”
I stared at my shoes, not wanting to see any sign of sympathy or pity on her face. My injuries were minor in comparison, but as we both knew, there was no comparison to death.
“I wouldn’t call that minor,” she said, “And you still went after the other victims and treated them? That sounds a bit heroic to me, wouldn’t you agree?”
Heroes don’t let innocent children die.
The chime broke my silence.
Dr. Crane snapped my folder shut and took a deep breath, as if cleansing my aura from the room.
“I’d like to see you back Friday morning prior to your shift. Please don’t let yourself shut down, Victoria. I know this must be painful, but it’s an important step to retell the details of what happened that night. It’s then that we can work through the aftermath. I have spoken with your charge nurse, Meg Holt, regarding your schedule. You are set to work three 12 hour shifts a week, rotating weekends like the others. The only exception is, of course, no on-call hours or extra shifts until I sign off. It’s important that you let yourself rest and reflect as we go through this process.”
“And what process is this exactly?” I asked, looking up for the first time.
I could not even begin to contemplate what four days a week of no work would do to me. My brows furrowed, pushing down the scream welling up inside my chest. I knew though, it wasn’t meant for Dr. Crane.
It was meant for Dr. Susan Bradley, my friend in question.
“Well, let’s get into that on Friday, shall we? I’d rather have more time to discuss it with you properly. Enjoy your first day back in Trauma, Victoria.”
I felt the pressure rising again in my chest as I left her office. I walked quickly to the restroom, once there I turned on the cold water. Soaking my hands and wrists, I stared at the woman reflected in the mirror. I leaned in to examine the aftermath on my face. It was my scarlet letter, reminding me and everyone else of the hideous debt that forever marked my life. No amount of powder or cover-up could erase it entirely.
It was me now.
I closed my eyes, seeing her again.
Anna.
I brush her long, blond, blood-stained hair off her face; her lips and cheek already swelling from where she hit the ground just minutes before. She is limp and unresponsive, and there is so much blood. The trauma that sought to tear through her innocent body, however, had failed to mask her beauty. I have never wanted anything as much as to see her breathe. I have never prayed for something so hard.
I rip off my shirt, using it as a compress for the wound on her side. I try in vain to do CPR. I keep going until I can’t see, can’t hear, and can no longer feel.
And then I’m lifted. The strong hands pull me up—pulling me off of her. I scream until my world goes dark. I have failed.
I found my reflection again in the mirror.
Only four more sessions…and then I can bury this back down and never talk about it again…to anyone.
The clock told me I had exactly 45 minutes until my first shift started. I exhaled deeply and headed toward the elevators. All first floor Emergency Rooms have the same general look no matter which city in the U.S. one lived. Emergency was Emergency.
The smell greeted me immediately, like a long-lost friend coming to visit. Other people might be repulsed by the smell of hospitals—a mixture of sweat, urine, vomit, and bleach—but to me it was home. My first couple of weeks would be spent shadowing a senior Trauma RN while learning the protocols and layout of Dallas Northwest Hospital. Due to my age, I was still considered “green” in the eyes of any Emergency Staff team. To me that simply meant that saving lives could not be my only purpose; I also needed to prove myself.
My “initiation” into the ER in Phoenix was so far beyond anything I had ever seen or experienced prior. I had done some work as a tech in Urgent Care during my first couple years of nursing school. That was probably the only reason my resume and application were accepted so quickly. That and the fact they were desperate for help.
The supply and demand for trauma nurses was well matched with its position as second highest trauma city in the country. They didn’t seem to mind that I had been a CNA in Labor and Delivery the year prior to graduating, nor did they question my drastic switch from wanting to specialize in birthing babies, to stabbings, broken skulls and overdoses.
That first week in Phoenix had been mind-blowing, and my fear so intense that I was often paralyzed by it. A trauma nurse could be wrapping a broken arm one minute and the next be assisting in pulling a lead pipe out of someone's chest.
What happened in the Emergency Rooms of large metropolitan cities were the nightmares your nightmares had while they slept. People who came through Emergency lived to tell their stories of horror. Those that didn’t leave often died after living out their worst-case scenario. That’s what Trauma was, a world of worst-case scenarios.
After a month of cowering behind the more experienced nurses and pretending to be busy with paperwork, IV’s, and administrative tasks, I was called out of hiding. A bus full of high school football players had crashed on the interstate. All hands were needed, including mine, “green” as they were.
I had watched the trauma nurses work quickly and effortlessly, setting shoulders, bandaging open wounds and applying burn towels to the students who had been closest to the engine when it caught fire. All were busy when my patient was rushed in with a severely mangled leg and arm. He was unconscious and receiving CPR by the EMT. I ran to meet them, shaky and uncertain. But then it happened, a rush of adrenaline like I had never experienced before. It was all-consuming.
The EMT who was using the manual resuscitation bag pointed and yelled for me to do chest compressions until we got to the defibrillator. In an instant I was the breath for his lungs as we raced to bay one. Dr. Bradley met us there as the EMT went over his vitals and injuries.
I lifted the paddles and charged them to life, positioning them on his chest. Feeling the power and the terror of death that hung in the balance, I stood with him at fate’s door. And just like that, he had a heart beat again.
“Good job today, Green,” Dr. Bradley had said later that day.
“It’s Tori—and thanks!” I corrected, smiling at her.
“Ha! I’ll tell you what, ‘it’s Tori’, I’ll call you that after you’ve survived six months here…until then, it’s Green,” she said.
Though it wasn’t as dramatic as pulling a lead pipe from a chest, I had helped a boy come back to life…and I was hooked. The fear would still come, but I no longer hid from the unknown. The adrenaline rushes were more addictive than anything I had ever encountered, and I needed and wanted more.
When adrenaline pumps, every other thought and emotion takes a step back. You are a slave to it; willing to do whatever it asks, no matter what the cost.
And if that cost threatened to make me forget who I was...then I would be a slave to it forever.
FIVE
Noon to midnight was a surprisingly good shift for a newbie in Emergency. It was one that I suspected was not entirely left to chance, but I couldn't let myself dwell on the things I couldn’t yet control. Soon it wouldn’t matter anyway. Once Dr. Crane signed off, I’d be back to working 70 to 80 hours a week if I could just put up with a few more sessions. Last night’s shift was pretty much what I had anticipated: tours of the floor, introductions met with unfriendly exchanges from female nurses and overly friendly exchanges from male counterparts who saw me as another fish in their sea.
It had been a relatively slow evening; nothing too dramatic had been called in, which always made for an int
eresting balance. On the one hand, emergency nurses were happy when the general public didn’t break any stupidity meters by getting caught doing something crazy, illegal or dangerous. On the other hand, it was slightly depressing when we couldn’t be a part of any extreme lifesaving efforts.
Stacie had been online with Jack for the majority of the morning, which was his tomorrow afternoon in Australia. I could hear her contagious bouts of laughter even through the layers of drywall in between us. They had been high school sweethearts and a couple I had secretly hoped to emulate one day.
Fat chance of that now.
Broken and damaged didn’t usually make the top of the list for best life partners.
For almost as far back as I could remember, Jack had been a part of our lives. His jovial personality and big brother-type attitude made him impossible not to love. He taught me to drive, ski, and even how to hold and shoot a gun. He was a computer nerd by trade and an over-achiever to any and all experimental feats and activities. He could master almost anything he tried; whether it was fixing an electrical issue, learning a new instrument, or mastering mixed martial arts. He knew how to dissect whatever was at hand and break it down to steps and strategies, overcoming it mentally before he even laid a hand on it. I poked my head in quickly and said hello to him. Then I went to my room and pulled on my running shoes.
“Tori…if you are thinking about running you should go tonight when it cools down a bit! There is a heat advisory out—supposed to be a hundred-and-four degrees by this afternoon!” Stacie called to me from behind her door.
Urgh…it’s almost mid-September for crying out loud! Aren’t temps supposed to be decreasing instead of increasing already?
“Thanks, I’ll be fine!”
I shut the front door before I could hear her argument and then I was off. The air was hot—stifling really. It was like running head-on into an industrial sized blow-dryer, set to high. I avoided the street where the kids had played the other day and headed down to an area with an open field. It was being groomed for yet another street of mirrored brick houses, each of them the size of a city block.
All For Anna Page 3