Disclaimer: I don't own Diagnosis Murder or its characters and I make no profit from this fictitious story.
A/N: This story focuses mainly on Jesse because we all love him so. While my last Diagnosis Murder fic verged on funny, this one is a bit more serious. Just thought I'd let y'all know. Oh, and please review (constructive criticism is important). It keeps me wanting to write and it's your responsibility as a fellow author and reader. Thanks, kids!
Work's a Killer
Jesse flew into the room as soon as the code was called. He had just past the door when the alarm sounded and he almost ran into the wall. After a moment, the code cart, nurses, aides, and orderlies followed. It was a code blue.
"No pulse," one of the nurses informed him.
"Okay, bag him," Jesse ordered as he began pressing on the man's chest to stimulate some action from the heart. "Give him 20 of epinephrine. We got anything?"
"Nothing."
Jess stepped back. "Okay, charge the paddles 250. Clear." He glanced at the nurse who shook her head negatively. "Charge 300. Clear."
The nurse looked up at Jesse, her brow furrowed. "I think I've got a…wait. No. He has no pulse."
"Damn! Charge 350. Come on, buddy! Clear." Still nothing. "Okay, he's a big guy; let's charge 400." He was a little nervous to put that much electricity through a man's body, but there was little other choice. "Clear."
"He's not responding, doctor."
"Then we'll do it again!"
Another 400 volts passed through the limp man's body but still produced no result. Jesse sighed sadly and shook his head, placing the paddles back on the cart. "Time of death," he sighed, "22:07."
"What'chya doin'?" Steve asked Jesse as he walked into the doctor's lounge.
"Trying to find out why a man died," Jess replied as he looked up from the medical charts. The dark circles were evident under his eyes and he seemed very frustrated.
Steve sat down. "That happens at a hospital sometimes. It isn't your fault."
"Not this time. William Harrow, 53 years old. He came into ER yesterday with a very severe case of E. Coli. We admitted him and were treating him for dehydration, nutrient loss, and anemia."
"And?"
"And he died of an heart attack two hours ago!"
"Heart attack?"
"What about an heart attack?" Mark asked as he walked into the room.
Jesse looked over at his mentor and friend. "I lost a guy to an heart attack today, but he came in with E. Coli. I just don't understand it."
"Lemme see his chart." Mark read it over while Jesse stared sadly at the wall. Steve got up to make them each a cup of coffee. It was the only thing he could do since all the medical talk left him with a headache. Mark finally looked up. "He was overweight, had high blood pressure, smoked, and drank. He was inline for something like this, Jess. It's a little odd that the heart attack came without warning, but not unheard of. I think you're beating yourself up for nothing. You couldn't have known this would happen and you obviously did your best to save him."
Jesse shrugged. "I just feel like something's wrong; it shouldn't have happened."
"It never feels right," Mark consoled. "When does your shift end?"
The young man suddenly looked a little sheepish. "Two hours ago. I was on my way out when he coded. I've been going over his chest ever since."
"Do you do anything outside of medicine?"
"Do you do anything outside of police work?"
Mark put a hand up. "Jess, go home. Get some sleep. Try to take your mind off this."
He stood up, suddenly overcome by exhaustion and the power of suggestion. "I know. You're right. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks, guys."
Mark sat back with his coffee. "Poor kid. You feel responsible for every death," he said with empathy.
"He works too hard, dad. It's no surprise he's in here obsessing."
"So what are you doing here at this hour?"
There was a long pause while Steve fidgeted in his chair. He finally answered, "Police work."
Jesse was almost out the door when he spotted Mrs. Harrow filling out paperwork. When he saw a tear fall onto the paper, his heart went out to her and his resolve to go home melted. "Do you need some help with that?" he asked as he sat down next to her.
"Wha'? Oh, Dr. Travis." She wiped her eyes hurriedly. "Help? Help. I don't know. I can't seem to focus on these forms. I'm just so…so…"
"Shocked?"
She nodded slowly. "I don't even know about this stuff. Bill took care of the insurance. He took care of everything that had to do with finances. I can't even answer most of these questions. What is an account number?"
He explained where she could find it and pointed out that the numerous forms asked a lot of questions that had already been answered in Mr. Harrow's admission papers. "I can ask for those if you want."
"That would be awfully helpful. Oh, I'm so glad Miss. Nelson brought him in. I'd only have made it worse. She understands all this stuff."
"Miss. Nelson? Who is she?"
"Bill's secretary. He got sick at work so she drove him here. I just don't know what would have happened without her. She's a very bright girl she's so…so…helpful!" The woman broke into tears and turned to Jesse for comfort. Awkwardly, he put his arms around her. He wasn't used to 60-year-old women sobbing into his shoulders. He was a busy doctor. He was on the ball. He was determined to save lives. He…was getting very wet. "I just don't know how this could happen. He was so full of life," she whimpered.
Jesse sighed and extracted himself from Mrs. Harrow. "Anybody that smokes two packs a day and drinks a fair amount is at a very high risk for an heart attack. Didn't your own doctor warn him?"
She looked very confused. "Bill didn't smoke and he certainly never drink. His father was an alcoholic so Bill wouldn't touch the stuff. I know he was a bit overweight, but he just loved food. He loved my food. He loved…me!" she cried and began sobbing on Jess's shoulder again. He soothed her absently, more concerned with what she said. Mr. Harrow's chart had listed him as a smoker and a drinker. Who would lie about something like that? Certainly not Mr. Harrow—the only position he'd been in was doubled-over. Something was seriously wrong and Jesse wanted to get to the bottom of it. He started by removing himself from Mrs. Harrow.
"I am so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Harrow; you obviously loved him a great deal. I'm going to go finish some work on your husband's records, but I'll send a nurse over with his admission forms and she'll help you understand them."
"Thank you so much, Dr. Travis. I know you gave Bill the best care you could."
Jesse left her, determined to find out what was wrong. It sounded crazy, but he could just sense that something was very wrong. So crazy or not, he went back to his apartment with William Harrow's chart and a lot of questions.