Just as she finished, she felt a shiver go through her body; a moment later she felt another and then another. Suddenly, she couldn’t stop shivering. Tommy was worried about hypothermia given the air temperature and the temperature of all the debris that buried her.
“Okay, Sarah. Are you getting cold?’
“Oh, I’m so cold. I can’t stop shaking.”
“Okay if I take your temperature, Sarah?
“Why am I shaking?” she asked as she nodded her ascent, teeth chattering like cartoon characters she had watched as a child.
“Well, let’s see what the thermometer says and then I’ll be in a better position to give you an answer.” Tommy reached into his bag for the digital thermometer and then put it into her left ear. In seconds it beeped. Tommy looked at the reading: 94.9 F/35 C. Shit. Now he had to worry about hypothermia on top of everything else. He hoped they got this woman out of her death trap soon. Tommy gave a knowing look to Ed.
“Okay, Sarah, your temp has dropped a bit because it’s a freezing cold day and your body is just trying to warm itself by shivering. That’s all the shaking means. It’s completely normal, a natural response to the cold. That’s all it is.” Ed radioed ahead to the ER to be ready with warming blankets.
Tommy was right about getting Sarah dug out quickly. Eighteen minutes after the German shepherd discovered her, the rescuers had removed most of the debris from her body. It was then that they saw why she couldn’t move her leg. A steel construction stud from the condo project — ten feet long, six inches wide, and nearly two inches thick — was planted across the blood-tinged shearling boot covering her right shin. Her lower leg was lying at an unnatural angle, apparently fractured at the calf by the steel stud. A firefighter with a hydraulic demolition shear was there in moments and started cutting through the steel. As he worked, the others stood back, waiting for the moment when the last remnant of their victim’s entombment would be cut away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
As rescue efforts were ramping up just blocks away, Jeff Gotbaum was finishing a successful surgery on a seventeen-year-old girl who had been injured in a car crash on the FDR Drive. Changing out of his scrubs, he congratulated himself on acing the femur repair. Just as he was tying his shoes his cell went off, alerting him to an incoming trauma. He had been looking forward to grabbing something from the cafeteria after the four-hour procedure. Instead, he pulled a protein bar out of his locker and headed to the ER.
Coming through the doors, he immediately knew something big had happened. The place was hopping. Then he heard the harpist playing, a new initiative aimed at calming patients during their time of distress. It gave him the willies and he guessed he wasn’t alone. He made a beeline for the nurses’ station.
“I’m Dr. Gotbaum, orthopedics,” he said, identifying himself to an attractive ER nurse he had never seen before. He glanced down at her left hand and noticed her ring finger was bare. “You have a patient in need of my finely honed skills and expertise?”
To his disappointment, the pretty nurse’s response was all business. “Trauma room 2. A thirty-two-year-old primigravida, full term, open, multifragmentary fracture of the lower right leg.”
“Thanks very much.” Jeff made a mental note of the nurse’s name — Cheryl Aiello — and walked quickly to the trauma room, where emergency surgery could be done if need be. Perhaps they were thinking of delivering the fetus immediately. That would make his job easier.
Trauma 2 was abuzz. He recognized the OB, Dr. Catherine Hanna, but he didn’t know the other attending. Probably a neonatologist for the fetus. The ER docs were working to stabilize the patient. From the looks of the monitors, things were okay on that front. She was already getting a unit of whole blood. He motioned to Dr. Hanna to meet him outside so he could get brought up to speed. The OB joined him in the corridor.
“Hey, Catherine. So what have we got here?”
“The woman was hit with falling debris from the crane accident over on Lexington. They had to dig her out. I guess she was buried alive.”
“You’re kidding. There was another crane accident? Wasn’t there one a couple of months ago?”
“Hey, Jeff, one more crane falls from the sky and I’m getting out of the city. What good are lower crime rates and cleaner streets when cranes keep toppling from construction sites?”
“I know, it’s nuts. But tell me about our patient.”
“She’s full term and for the moment the baby is hanging in there with a heart rate between 130 and 140. Jeff, I’m no orthopedic surgeon, but I’m thinking her lower leg may be beyond even your fine surgical powers. I’d like to get that baby out right away and then let you go at it.”
“That’s fine with me. Do we have any imaging?” Jeff inquired.
“She’s been x-rayed and scanned. No internal bleeding to major organs, which is incredibly lucky from what the EMTs told me about the scene.”
“So are you thinking of doing the section here, or do we have time to get to the OR?”
“There’s an OR ready, so I’d rather do the section there and then just hand her off to you.”
“Is the patient alert?” Jeff asked.
“Amazingly, she has her wits about her. She was headed toward hypothermia laying out in the cold under all that debris. But since she arrived in the ER, we’ve gotten her temp back up to 96.8. She’s desperate about her baby. I don’t think she has any idea what shape her leg is in.”
“Do I have time to take a look before we head upstairs?”
“What kind of time are you talking about?”
“Give me five minutes,” Jeff said. “I’d like to introduce myself to the patient and lay eyes on the trauma.”
“I’ll give you three, and then we’re outta here.”
Jeff had to make his way through a gaggle of nurses, aides and doctors to approach the patient. What he saw was a very pregnant Caucasian woman, her curly hair caked with reddish-brown dust. Her brow was cut but the rest of her face was pale and smooth. It was a face that seemed somehow familiar. Then he caught it: The woman was a dead ringer for Rick’s old girlfriend, Sarah — or her sister, if she had one. It was the patient’s wristband that was the stunner: Abadhi, Sarah. The ER doc, Jim McReynolds, snapped Jeff back to attention.
“Hey, Jeff,” McReynolds said, beckoning him to the corner of the room. “We’ve got an open, compound fracture. Pictures show both the tibia and fibula were crushed by a metal construction stud the rescue guys had to cut off her with the Jaws of Life. She was pinned for about thirty-five minutes before they got her out. Circulation was compromised. Some blood loss, so we started her on one unit. The patient is responsive.”
“Thanks, Jim. I know her — a friend of a friend. Has her husband — or the baby’s father — been called?”
“There’s no father in the picture. We asked. Her parents have been called. I guess they’re on their way.”
No father. What the hell? But he had no time to figure out how Sarah could be ready to deliver a baby. “Okay, thanks, Jim. Let me take a look,” Jeff said, trying to sound detached and professional.
Returning to Sarah, he lifted the sterile dressing that covered her right leg. As McReynolds had reported, the tibia and fibula appeared to have multiple fractures. Bones protruded through the skin in at least three places. He found a strong pulse in her left foot and a significantly weaker one in her right, which was no surprise given the magnitude of the injury. With a break caused by such a high-energy impact, it was amazing that major blood vessels hadn’t been severed.
This was exactly the type of devastating injury he’d trained for, and as a first-year attending he was already gaining a reputation as something of a miracle worker. He hated to admit defeat and, more times than not, he didn’t have to. That doggedness, that refusal to give up until he had tried every approach to the problem at hand, set him apart from other surgeons who lacked the hunger to hit it out of the park every time they scrubbed in.
After covering t
he injured leg with the sterile dressing, he turned to McReynolds and told him to page a vascular surgeon. He flashed back to the three of them — Jeff, Rick and Sarah — running along the river, with him struggling to keep up. Now he would have to pull out all the stops to save her leg.
His promised three minutes were up and he had yet to share his anticipated treatment plan with the patient. He wondered if she would recognize him — particularly given all that had apparently transpired since their morning runs.
“Sarah. It’s Jeff Gotbaum.”
Sarah turned toward the voice and opened her eyes to see a familiar face.
“Jeff? What are you doing here?” Sarah whispered. She thought she heard a harp. Maybe she was hallucinating. “Is it really you, Jeff? I feel like I’m in a dream.”
“Yes, indeed. You’re not dreaming. It’s really me. Jeff Gotbaum, at your service. We’re kind of in a hurry to deliver your baby, but after that I’m going to be fixing your leg.”
Jeff’s words about delivering the baby focused her attention. She started to talk, but Jeff couldn’t make out the words.
“What was that?” he asked as he put his ear closer to her face.
“You’re going to be my doctor?”
“Sure am. Lucky coincidence, eh?”
“That’s good. Take care of the baby first,” she whispered. “Please, Jeff. That’s the most important thing.”
“You’ll be in the OR in a couple of minutes and Dr. Hanna will be delivering your baby by Cesarean section. After that, you’ll be all mine,” Jeff said. “Your right lower leg has suffered a high-energy injury. I am going to do my best to fix it. I anticipate that the surgery may take several hours.”
“Can I be awake to see the baby born? Can I hold it?”
“I’m not really sure what Dr. Hanna has planned for anesthesia, but it’s possible she’ll order a general, since we’ll be coming in right after her to work on your leg. If that’s the case, then you’ll get to hold the baby as soon as you come out of recovery.”
She started to tear up. “Oh, please. I want to see the baby born. I want to hold it. Please.”
Jeff swallowed hard. He would prefer general anesthesia, given the extent of the injuries, but if he had to, he could work with an epidural and have the anesthesiologist give Sarah enough sedation to make her out of it during surgery.
“I’ll see what Dr. Hanna says. I’ll do what I can. But Sarah, your health and the baby’s health have to come first. I promise, if it’s a general anesthesia I will personally hold your baby and welcome it to the world. And your parents are on their way, so Grandma and Grandpa will take over after that.” He looked up to see the transporters from the OR, ready to take their patient upstairs.
“Jeff. If they knock me out…it’s Eric for a boy and Anna for a girl.”
Jeff looked at her, confused. Then he understood. “Oh, those are your names for the baby?”
Sarah nodded.
“Got it: Anna for a girl and Eric for a boy.”
Sarah nodded again and then gave a little smile. “Thanks, Jeff.” Then she closed her eyes as she was rolled out of the ER and into the waiting elevator.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It was only because her college was on semester break that Eva was home that January afternoon. She was working in her study on a collection of short stories, her first. She was deep within the world of her characters when the telephone rang. The interruption annoyed her; she was on a roll and the story was almost writing itself. She entertained the idea of letting it go to voice mail before thinking better of it. It could be her mother, felled by some insult spawned by old age. And, of course, Sarah was getting close to her due date.
“Hello,” Eva said as she cradled the receiver between her ear and her shoulder so she could finish typing the sentence she was working on.
“I’m calling from the emergency room at University Hospital in Manhattan. I am trying to reach Eva or Joseph Abadhi, parents of Sarah Abadhi.”
Eva stopped typing and put the receiver in her hand. “Excuse me. Who did you say you were?”
“My name is Reginald Washington, ma’am. I’m an emergency room nurse calling for the parents of Sarah Abadhi. Do I have the correct phone number?”
“Yes,” Eva answered cautiously, afraid of a scam artist fishing for information. “Why are you calling?”
“Am I speaking with Eva Abadhi?”
“Yes.”
“There was a large construction accident this afternoon around East 73rd Street and Lexington Avenue and your daughter was a pedestrian in the area. She was injured in the accident.”
Seventy-Third Street. Close to Sarah’s apartment. But she wouldn’t have been there at that time of day. “I’m sorry, sir. What is your name again?”
“Reginald Washington, ma’am.”
“My daughter is at work in Midtown, Mr. Washington. I just spoke to her a few hours ago. You must be mistaken.”
The ER nurse was patient. It was not uncommon for the news he had to deliver to be received with suspicion or disbelief. He would take his time to get the needed information to the victim’s next of kin before ending the call.
“No, ma’am. There is no mistake. The information comes from the EMTs who worked with your daughter. Ma’am, have you been listening to the radio or watching television this afternoon?”
“No. No, I’ve been working. Why?”
“There’s been a major accident in the vicinity of 73rd Street and Lexington Ave. I am sorry to inform you that your daughter, Sarah, was hurt in the accident.”
“Just a minute. Let me turn on the television.” Eva ran from her study to the family room to turn on CNN. There on the screen was a live report from the scene of a crane accident on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. The aerial view showed devastation on the order of a bomb blast or gas explosion. The natural light was beginning to recede, and the area was bathed in bright, emergency lighting. She couldn’t imagine anyone surviving an accident of such magnitude. Eva’s knees buckled and the phone dropped from her hand. Sprawled on the floor, she remembered the ER nurse. He had to tell her about Sarah. She grabbed the phone lying beside her.
“Are you still there Mr. Washington?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m still here.”
“Oh my God. Tell me about my daughter.”
“Yes, ma’am. The EMTs stabilized her before she was brought to our trauma center.”
“And the baby?”
“Mrs. Abadhi, I have no information on the condition of the fetus.”
The words reverberated in Eva’s head. No information on the condition of the fetus. The fetus she was sorry Sarah had conceived so carelessly. The fetus she and Joseph had come to accept, whose birth they now eagerly awaited.
“Are you still there Mrs. Abadhi?”
“Yes. Please give me the address of the hospital so my husband and I can get to her. Let me get a pen and paper.” She got up and raced to the kitchen, grabbing a sheet off her grocery list pad. Her hands shook as she wrote down the address.
“Mr. Washington?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Are you really certain this is my daughter — Sarah Abadhi — who was hurt?”
“Yes, I’m certain.” Then the nurse broke from the official protocol to relay the story told to him by Tommy, the EMT. “Mrs. Abadhi, apparently when the rescue team reached your daughter at the scene, she spelled her last name and rattled off your home and office numbers. The EMTs said she was completely lucid and cooperative. They said she was an IKE — I Know Everything. They all got a charge out of her.”
That started the tears flowing. Lucid and talking and the same know-it-all she’d been since she was little. “Thank you, Mr. Washington. You’ve been very kind,” Eva said, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
“Would you like me to inform Mr. Abadhi of the accident?” the nurse asked.
“No. I’d better do it. Good-bye and…again… thank you.”
“Good-b
ye, Mrs. Abadhi. Best of luck to your family.”
* * *
Eva’s blood ran cold at the thought of telling Joseph. Then she had an idea. As she watched the scene on the muted television, she called Sarah’s cell phone. Perhaps it was all a misunderstanding. Maybe Sarah was just on the periphery of the accident. Maybe she had just suffered a few scratches. Sarah’s phone rang and rang before going to voice mail. Hearing Sarah tell her to leave a message sent a shiver through Eva. What if she never heard Sarah’s voice again? She hung up and pushed the speed dial for Joseph, praying that he’d remembered to turn on his phone. On the fifth ring, he picked up.
“Hi, honey. I’m in the middle of something with Bob. Can I call you right back?”
“No, Joe. Don’t hang up. Something’s happened.”
Eva’s voice alarmed him. It was the same voice he’d heard years earlier when her father had suffered a massive stroke. His mind turned immediately to Rivka.
“What happened? Is Rivka okay?”
“No, not her. It’s Sarah.”
“Sarah? Is the baby coming? Is that it?”
“No, Joe. She’s been in an accident.”
His chest tightened. “An accident? What sort of accident?”
Riveted by the images of devastation on the television, Eva found it hard to speak.
“Eva. Eva. Are you there? What sort of accident was Sarah involved in?”
She inhaled deeply, cleared her throat and tried again. “There was…there was a construction accident. In Sarah’s neighborhood. She’s been injured, Joe.”
“Do you know her condition?”
Here was a ray of hope she could convey. “The ER nurse said she was lucid and talking. That’s good, isn’t it, Joe? He said she rattled off our home and office numbers to the EMTs. He even said they got a kick out of that.” Eva willed herself not to cry.
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