Douglas barged into what must have been the equivalent of A&E, probably an impressive sight with a limp Martin taco in his arms, being trailed by a woman and a man child.
"Need some help here," he announced, which caused a flurry of activity from the woman behind the triage desk. A gurney appeared, and Douglas released Martin onto it, setting him down gently, taking care not to tangle himself in the sheets.
They tried to pull the gurney away from Douglas, but he grabbed onto it, letting them know Martin would not be going anywhere without him.
"You handle the paperwork," he said to Carolyn, "I'll stay with him."
She nodded, and with that, Douglas allowed them to wheel Martin away, him close on their heels.
They wheeled Martin into a trauma room and chatted amongst themselves in hurried tones. It took Douglas a minute to realize some of that was directed at him. But it must have been in Norwegian, which Martin would have been disappointed to find out, was not one of the languages Douglas was fluent in.
He shook his head. "I don't understand. English? Francais?"
There was some more hurried talking, and one of the nurses scurried off, hopefully to get a translator.
The remaining doctors and nurses, two of each, busied themselves with unwrapping Martin to attach numerous wires to him.
Douglas felt a shared embarrassment for Martin about the pyjamas, but there was nothing to be done about them.
They stuck electrodes to his frail chest, heaving up and down much too fast. The clipped something to the end of his finger, which began beeping almost immediately.
Douglas hadn't spent an awfully long time in medical school, but he knew enough to recognize that it was Martin's oxygen saturations, which were far too low, hence the beeping.
The next addition was a hissing oxygen mask on Martin's face, one that was too large and pressed into his eyes.
Without getting in the way, Douglas shifted himself to Martin's head and fixed the mask for him. He had no doubt that Martin was at least partially conscious, and didn't want him to be uncomfortable.
Douglas watched Martin's eyes for movement as the one nurse inserted an IV in his arm, and another took his blood pressure.
Their chattering was harsh on his ears, although he suspected that had more to do with the tone and the suspected content of the words rather than the language itself. Trust Martin to get sick in a country where Douglas didn't speak the language.
And then there was blessed English, a torch beam of light through the fog. It was heavily accented, but such wonderful words that he could understand.
The nurse who'd left before had indeed brought back a translator, or at least someone who could speak some English.
"Hello, I'm Ben. What's your friend's name?"
"Martin."
"And yours?"
"Douglas."
"Okay. Why did you bring him to hospital?"
"He was barely conscious, couldn't catch his breath in between coughing fits, and was turning blue."
"Alright Douglas, how long has he been sick for?" Ben made notes on a clipboard as he spoke to Douglas.
"At least a couple of weeks, although it hasn't been this bad." He looked down at Martin, still with his blue tinged lips despite the extra oxygen.
"Has he been complaining of pain or other symptoms in the last few days?"
"No..." Douglas shook his head. "He really doesn't complain. He said he was tired, and I suspected that was because he was sick."
"And does he have any allergies or preexisting medical conditions?"
"He doesn't have any food allergies, but I'm not sure about anything else like antibiotics. He has a problem with his inner ear, but I think that's all." Douglas had never wished more than he did now that Martin had been more open and talkative about his personal life.
"No medications?"
Douglas shook his head, reaching for the hand nearest him.
"Do you know if there is a history in his family of any illness or diseases, cancer, heart disease?"
Douglas shook his head again. "I don't know."
"That's fine," he said kindly. "We have a woman in the waiting room who's filling out paperwork for him and hopefully she knows some more."
Carolyn? Not likely. She'd only have phone numbers to call, and if she knows anything, she will absolutely not call them.
"What are they saying?" Douglas asked, gesturing to the many doctors and nurses who were still conversing among themselves.
Ben listened for another minute before replying. "Your friend is very sick."
Douglas didn't believe him. Sure, that may have been the essential part, but Douglas wanted details.
He could see for himself that Martin's vital signs weren't so great, even with the extra oxygen and fluids they'd started him on.
"What's the plan?" Douglas tried a different tactic, hoping to get more that way.
Ben said something to one of the doctors, who looked up and replied. Douglas didn't like his words.
"He likely has pneumonia, and we're going to admit him to the ICU. He might have to go on a breathing machine. Is there anyone we should call?"
Douglas shook his head firmly. No, Martin would not want his family here. Not now.
