Total pages in book: 296
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
Can’t remember the last time I even had a vacation, and at this moment, I make a vow to myself that this trip will be one to remember.
After we help Mama clean up the table, I pull out my phone and see Dylan’s already sent me a text.
Dylan
Well? Any news yet?
Alex
Hope you’re ready to be my ride-or-die!
Dylan
Seriously?! We can go?
Alex
Yep! Pack your bags because we’re about to give Key West some Southern cowboy hell!
CHAPTER TWO
RIVER
“River!” My name is called as I rush down the hallway toward the blaring sound of the beeping alarm. As I round the corner, I realize it’s coming from room 448. McKenna Black’s room. Mrs. Black is screaming my name, urging me to hurry. My aide, Jenny, is already inside the room waiting for me.
I memorize all my patient’ files word for word. I know their personal information and their medical history. It’s part of my job at Milwaukee Children’s Hospital where I treat sick kids in the PICU—pediatric intensive care unit. No matter how long they’ve been here or how short their stay is, my photographic memory allows me to remember every detail of their conditions and treatment plans.
“What’s her O2 level?” I ask Jenny as I silence the alarm. She rambles off the baby girl’s stats, and I immediately unwrap my stethoscope from my neck so I can listen to her heart.
“She’s seizing,” I say aloud before rolling her little body to the side. McKenna is only five weeks old and in a fragile state after being diagnosed with bacterial meningitis. She’s been here for a week and is on a twenty-eight-day antibiotic treatment, but side effects like this from the medication or illness are common with these types of infectious diseases.
“What? She’s seizing?” Mrs. Black cries from the end of the metal crib.
“Call Dr. Weasley,” I order Jenny. “She’s going to need anti-seizure medicine before it happens again.”
“River, what’s going on?” Mrs. Black cries out again, her voice filled with panic.
Before I can explain, Jenny speaks up. “Dr. Weasley isn’t here.”
I wave my hand in the air. “Whoever’s on call then. She needs something before it gets worse.”
“Worse? Why? What’s wrong?” Mrs. Black is frantic, concern evident in her voice. She’s in constant fear of her daughter’s life, and it breaks my heart. It’s something I see here every day.
I watch as her stats start to level out and breathe out a sigh of relief.
“She’s okay, Mrs. Black,” I face her and say softly. I try to get to know my patient’s family as best as I can because it helps put their minds at ease and builds trust as we give the best treatment possible. “It was a tonic seizure. I’m going to have the doctor prescribe some medication to prevent it from happening again.”
“Wh-what’s that?”
“It’s where her body stiffens and muscles spasm. It’s most likely caused by the infection, and although not uncommon, we want to control it and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Otherwise, it could make things worse.”
“Worse?” She gasps. Shit, I should’ve left out that part. I always try to be honest and up-front with the family, but I know sometimes I have to leave out things that will only cause more concern.
“The infection that’s in the spinal fluid leading to her brain can cause seizures depending where the infection is, but the seizure subsided, and her stats are already normalizing, but the meds will help stop it from happening again. Okay?” I place a hand on her shaky fingers that are gripping the crib rail.
She nods, keeping her eyes locked on McKenna. Her tiny little body is covered in PICC lines, an oxygen line, a feeding tube, and artery lines in both of her cute, chubby thighs. Her face is swollen from the fluids, and her tiny arms are in casts so the lines stay in.
It’s a sight no parent should ever have to see, but in the PICU, it’s an everyday occurrence.
Hours later after McKenna gets her medication, I finally take my break. I work twelve-hour shifts on rotation and have been on my feet for ten hours straight. As I’m sitting in the cafeteria about to stuff my face, Natalie plops down across from me.
“You look like hell.”
“Should’ve seen me before I fixed my hair and makeup.” I reach for my coffee and take a long sip. “I can’t feel my feet, and I’m pretty sure my ankles have swelled to twice their normal size.”
“Isn’t your shift almost over?” She looks down at the time on her phone. “You’re taking a late break.”
I nod, agreeing. “Had to wait for the on-call doctor to prescribe some medication for my patient and then once I administered it, I wanted to wait to make sure she was stable. Her mom was upset, and I didn’t feel right leaving.”