Blood, needles, angst, pain, traumatic experience... the hospital stuff
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BANG
The doors of the emergency room in the New York-Presbyterian Hospital flew open with a loud bang, which attracted the attention of the people in the waiting room.
Shattered glass everywhere...
"OUT OF THE WAY!", a nurse yelled as she and a few others weeled in a new patient on a stretcher.
A dark red substance dances around me like a nest of snakes.
"Dr. Anderson!", the doctor she mentioned quickly looked up. "I need your help with this one!" As soon as the doctor saw the patient looking severly injured, he dumped his clipboard on his desk and ran up to the nurses and the other doctor. And with severly injured Dr. Anderson meant it was clear to see the patient was in mortal danger. There was blood.
Blood everywhere...
"Wheel him to operating theater O7! Fast!" The doctor hastily looked around for his assistant. He yelled out from the moment he saw him. The blonde was flirting with the same nurse again, the one that always blew him off or tried to ignore him. "Evans!", the man looked at the doctor, his best friend. "Get to O7 straight away! Emergency! Car accident!"
My vision is blurry. There's this warmth and this orange light that gives my surroundings a sunset-like-glow. This light reflects with sparks of yellow, orange and red on the side of my car.
"Check oxygen and heartbeat!", the doctor demanded as he ran into the operation theater. Dr. Anderson was helped into his uniform as the assistant from earlier did as her boss for the surgery asked. "Is he breathing?"
Everything is coming at me. The sky is pushing on my chest and I can nearly inhale enough air to stay conscious. I'm barely breathing.
"No, he isn't, doctor", the nurse said after she checked the patient's pulse on his throat with her index and middle finger.
The doctor cursed under his breath. "Get the defibrillator, stat!" The nurse nodded and went her way as he turned to his assistant. "Okay Sam - Sam Evans -, hand me the tweezers!"
Dr. Evans frowned but handed it to him anyway as he went to stand on the opposite side of the operation table. "Dont people say pincette, Blaine?"
Dr. Anderson - Blaine - sighs slightly annoyed because of the almost dead patient on his table he needs to safe by himself. It wasn't like his assistant was doing anything but hand him the tweezers. They all lose hope way too fast. "It doesn't matter, Sam. Whether you call it chicken wings or double bubble Disco queen... as long as people understand what you're saying, it is fine!"
The pounding in my head was only getting heavier. Someone really needs to turn off my radio. I don't want to hear Brendon Urie singing about "Eyes like Christmas Lights" while I can hardly keep mine open.
"Okay, okay. Tell me what you need me to do, boss!" Sam said pulling at the lamp to make sure it was at a good stand for the doctor.
Blaine examined the young man lying on the operation table. He looks like he's around Blaine's age although the bruises on his face and the pale skin make him look older. There is blood everywhere. He starts by taking the medical scissors and cutting open the fasionable shirt the patient was wearing. The red blood had mixed with the light blue fabric and had a slight purple shade.
The doctor felt his heart clench as he noticed the glass sticking up from his body. Some shards almost impaled the young man. Blaine took the tweezers and started picking a few shards.
He couldn't save the patient on his own.
He needs help.
"We can't perform CPR on the patient when he still has splinters glass piercing his chest", Blaine explained as he motioned for Sam to grab a metal box to put in the shards. "We need to get them out in time."
Sam stood stunned. "We?", he repeated, not sure if he heard it right himself.
"Yes, we! Get your ass moving and help me out. Santana will be back with that defibrillator sooner or later." Dr. Anderson spoke rather loudly which made Dr. Evans do what was expected from him. He grabbed another pincet and plate and moved back to the patiënt, where his colleague looked almost psycho trying to get out the splinters.
They did their best to get as much shards out of the patients chest, stomach and sides before the nurse - Santana- stormed back into the room. "Here you go, Anderson!", the Latina announced as she glanced at the monitor. "JEEZ, a snail works faster than both your times devided by two!"
Blaine looked up and glared at the woman. He knew she was stressed again, because she was getting snarky - snarkier than normal. "Help us out then, Lopez!"
"Good." She put on her disposable gloves, copying the doctors' clothes, and walked walked over to the table, defibrillator in hand. "Stop with the shards! Our priority is to let his heart beat again!"
Blaine quickly agreed and shoved his equipment on the instrument table. The boy needs to be saved. His skin was already pale and Blaine didn't know if it was natural or from the zero blood flow.
He knew by looking at the face of the boy, that was now being covered by an oxygen mask, that he was in terrible pain. Not only physically, but also mentally. A mental trauma.
Pain... pain... pain... everywhere. I can't move a muscle or a schock of pain makes my body shake. I can't do anything but move my eyes, but that gets more tiring every second.
Blaine let Santana place the pads of the defibrillator on the patient as he himself performed CPR on him. Blaine winched as he heard the sound of ribs breaking but he also knew he had to go through with this. Otherwise the boy's closed eyes will never open again.
Open. Closed. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. Closed. Closed. Darkness. My eyelids are too heavy... I can't...
Closed.
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Beep. Beep. Beep.
There's white light coming from under my eyelids. I can't see what it is.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
There are voices. I can't hear what they're saying.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
There is a hand holding mine. I don't know who's next me.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
There is a smell filling my nostrils. I can't tell whether it's rather familiar or unfamiliar.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
There's a weird taste on my tongue. I can't put a name on the aroma.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I recognize everything... but 'everything' still feels off.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I feel the need to start moving.
My hands tense a little.
My eyelids flutter weakly.
My lips open and close slightly.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
This is all it takes to make the person holding me move rather quickly and yelling to the other people in the room. I guess there are others in the room.
Beep. Beep. Beep..
The voice sounds oh so familiar, but... nothing.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
It tugs again.
The light begins to dim.
Darkness takes its place.
I fall.
[§-§-§]
Blaine breathed out a relieved sigh as the heart monitor got back to normal. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. This was the second time they had to get the patient's heart beating again. He ran his hand through his dark curls. His tanned skin was glinstering from the sweat secreted by eccrine glands in his skin.
Blaine hated losing patients and dissapointing others, especially when the young man's father stormed into the room, completely ignoring the security guards and demanding to know his son's status.
The man - Burt - was hard to calm down. He even fainted when his son's oxygen dropped and the patient's heart momentarily stopped beating. They had to hold Burt in a separate room, while the doctor climed with his knees on the bed after calling out an emergency and started the CPR for the second time since he was brought in the ER.
He succeeded. And he couldn't be more happy about it. Blaine had priorities, and the most important one was keep them alive for as long as you can.
He knew he damaged the ribs, again. And that he hated too. Hurting his patients, intentional or unintentional, was something Blaine preferably avoided.
The doctor took his clipboard and sat down on the sofa next to the bed. The boy's father sat there before him.
He turned the paper and looked at the personal info on it.
Name: Kurt Hummel
Gender (after possible transition): Male
Born: 08/21/2000
Birth place: Lima, Ohio
Residence: New York - Manhattan
Blood type: unknown
Medical history:
- arm fracture (left) 06/11/2008;
- knee fracture (right) 03/19/2013;
- car crash (internal bleeding, multiple bruises and wounds, concussion infecting oriëntation and intensity of light, sprained right ankle and wrist, fractured left leg, arm and foot) 07/30/2020;
- fractured ribs (by CPR) 07/30/2020
Phone numb-
He stopped reading when he heard the blankets shift. Blaine looked over to the hospital bed. The piece of furniture was sitting against the wall with the regular, plain white sheets on it. The room only consisted of one against the back wall.
On each side was a nightstand that ould be moved by the wheels attached underneath it. When you stood at the foot of the bed and look to the right, there was a metal tripod on wheels standing between the bed and the nightstand. On the tripod was an infusion bag, leading blood to the intravenous drip through a hollow plastic wire.
A monitor, showing the heart beat and oxygen level of the patient, was hanging above the bedside table.
The window - also on the right - let in a beautiful golden light, announcing the golden hour.
On the left side of the bed was a privacy curtain, open, and next to that was a door. This door led to a bathroom.
In front of the bed was a TV hanging from the ceiling facing the opposite wall. Underneath stood a white table with two blue, plastic chairs.
Like mentioned earlier, Blaine was sitting in the only real sofa in the room. It was a one person couch that was modern and - in Blaine's opinion - very, very comfortable. He could sit in the cloudy grey chair all day long if he didn't have work. Speaking of work, his patient - Kurt - was waking up.
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My body felt like it was floating. I felt a warmth around me, but I could still remark the goosebumps on my limbs. It felt like something fervent was streaming through my veins. It set my body on fire in the feeling of my back on the surface of an unfamiliar lake. I could only move the sensitive, glasz orbs in my eye sockets.
My eyes were on the clear, blue sky above. Although, the sun was nowhere to be seen. For as far as I could see, the water was just as blue. It almost looked... identical.
I tried moving my left foot.
Pain shot through my body, making me scream without making any noice. A substance heavy as both water and smoke filled my lungs.
I wasn't on the surface,
I was drowning.
I had to get out of here. The pressure somehow had the ability to squeeze my soul in the most painfull way possible. The clear sky and water were not there anymore. Stars were flowing around and bright lights flashed by every once in a while.
The pain was EVERYWHERE.
It was pure torture.
One of the lights stopped in front of me. Suddenly, gravity didn't feel the same anymore. I reached for what looked like my only escape, but before my fingers could make contact with the brightness,
I fell...
fell...
fell.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
That sound again. It's ringing in my ear.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I move again, not without a sting.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
It's calling for me to open my eyes, but I'm scared. I felt numb. I was nowhere.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I moved again and I was able to roll over my left wrist without complication.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I tried to make a noice, anything to let someone hear me and maybe, just maybe, help me.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
My throat was dry and the only thing able to leave my mouth was a whimper.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Kurt?" An unfamiliar but gentle voice called. I had to wake up now.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Wake up, you're safe." Again, I stirred. I send as much energy as I could to my eyelids to open.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
My eyelids started to flutter open. "There you go!" I could practically hear the smile in the voice as it spoke again. It gave me courage.
So I pushed myself.
And I succeeded.
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"Welcome back to earth, fighter!", Blaine announced cheerfully. His patient was finally waking up. It wasn't like he was passed out for a long time, it was the fact that the boy's heart stopped twice in a span of 8 hours.
Conclusion: not healthy.
The constant beeping of the monitor showed that he was well, breathing, alive.
It was very unlikely for Kurt to wake up this early from a coma. He had a very bad concussion - realising that, Blaine ran to the window to close the blinds. The patient could lose conciousness from the headache of an illuminating light like the sun.
The doctor turned back to his patient. The dimmed sunlight lit the room just perfectly to decrease the disorientation from the sudden awakening. The young man's eyelids fluttered again, to a point they even opened slightly, causing Blaine to catch a glimps of the blue crystals in his eye pits.
Blaine heard a soft grunt and hastily walked p to the nightstand. He grabbed a cup from the stack and filled it with the cool and refreshing water from the Evian bottle. Then, he went and stood next to the bed, clipboard under his arm and cup in hand. He could feel the warmth of the sun lit glass on his back. He sucked in a breath of air and prepared himself for the young man's possible reaction.
The patient stirred again. A few seconds later, the boy's eyes opened. Blaine could see the fear in his eyes. Suddenly, the boy sat up straight and looked around frantically. His face paler because of the panic.
The doctor put down his stuff on the bedside table before gently placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. The patient reacted to the touch by trying to slap the hands away. That reaction made him cry out in pain, which only caused more panic. "Kurt?"
His breathing became heavier.
A few breaths later, he passed out.
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Darkness;
Emptiness;
Silence;
Nothingness.
A flicker of light.
I picked up a rustling noice coming from my left.
I grunted and my eyelashes fluttered.
I stirred.
My eyes opened and I froze.
The room I was in was dimly lit. I didn't feel awake yet. My surroundings were barely visible. The space was white: white painted walls, a white table, white bed sheets. I jumped up in blind panic which made me able to observe more.
I felt a prescence next to me. It was moving fast and I got scared.
Out of nowhere, hands were on my shoulders trying to calm me down, but I just panicked more. I heard the blood rushing through my veins. I tried to shove the hands off my shoulders, but pain shot through me like a thousand bullets piering my skin, my body, my soul. I screamed. There was sound this time and it was loud.
"Kurt?" The voice soft as butter said. I couldn't control my breathing. I inhaled and exhaled like I had just ran a marathon.
I fainted.
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"Shit", Blaine breathed, running his hand through his hair. His patient had one of the worst reactions one could have when waking up. Kurt fell back into the constant unawareness. There have been worse cases, ofcourse: doctors and nurses getting attacked, patients who try to leave in blind panic, patients who pull out the intravenous drip themselves in a rather harsh way, etc.
But here, the patient didn't bring others in danger.
Only himself.
When Kurt's heart rate drastically increased and his oxygen level went down, he had a high chance of having the next heart attack. And was very unlikely for him to survive this one.
"Doctor!", a tired voice called behind Blaine. He turned around to the man talking. The man had most likely the same age as the doctor's father. He wore a baseball cap on his bold head, his clothing was more from the countryside than from a modern city like New York. The man's name was Burt Hummel. Burt was intimidating, but just wanted the best for his son like every good father would...
"Anderson!" This ripped Blaine away from his thoughts. He didn't have time to react, though, Burt was already speaking. "I heard my boy scream. Are you sure everything is fine?!" The worry lines on his face were more visible now.
"Sir, calm down-"
"Calm down? Calm down?!" Burt yelled in disbelief. "My son almost died and you want me to calm down?!" The older man was turning more red with every word he spoke. He started pacing back and forth. "Kurt, buddy, wake up, wake up, wake up... WHY CAN'T YOU JUST WAKE UP!" Burt screamed the last part so loud, the doctor took him by his shoulders and sat him down on the sofa before grabbing one of the chairs to sit on himself.
He turned to the older man. His head was shaking and he was holding it in his hands. "Mr. Hummel? I- your-", Blaine sighed before trying again. "Sir, please look at the monitor." Burt didn't even budge. The doctor laid his hand on his shoulder, only to get it smacked off again. 'Must be a family thing', he thought.
Blaine was a patient man. In a way that meant that he was a good listener. He could wait for people to open up to him for a very, very long time unless it was life threatening. What he couldn't wait for were people who were late every. single. time.
He would give the man time to come to terms with this change coming like the tides. His son's future in the hospital was as unpredictable as the weather.
"Sir, would you please listen to me and look at the monitor showing your son's heart?", Blaine asked calmly and quiet. Burt leisurely took his shaking hands away from his face and looked up at the device. The older man sighed in relief and quavery patted the doctor's back. "Thanks, doctor." He turned to Blaine after taking Kurt's hand. "Tell me... please, tell me. How is my son?"
Blaine smiled. He stood up from his chair to grab the clipboard. He cleared his throat before speaking. "His heart and oxygen level are steady. He has a very bad concussion which may cause amnesia." Blaine turned the page and frowned. "We- there was no information on what his blood type was so we gave him O-, the universal group."
The doctor threw up his hands defensively when he noticed Burt glaring at him. "Don't worry, sir, you can't do wrong with O-. We did a test. I just need to wait for nurse Lopez to come back with the results."
"Okay, I believe you." Burt looked at his son and raised his hand to brush away a strand of hair that was flat on his forehead, covering his closed eyes. "What are further injuries?"
Blaine flipped to another page and read aloud. "He has internal bleeding, multiple bruises and wounds. Like I said, he had a concussion infecting oriëntation and worsens by the intensity of light. Kurt has a sprained right ankle and wrist. Also he has fractured left leg, arm and foot." Blaine looked up at the man.
Burt smiled weakly. "That's quite a mouthful, Anderson."
The doctor sighed and put down his clipboard again. "Yeah... but believe me, Burt, your son is a fighter." Blaine smiled and patted the man's shoulder.
Burt laughed. "Oh, I know he is. He's been through so much already, losing his mother, bullying and taunting... I am sure he will make it through this painful experience."
Blaine mimicked Burt's smiled. He was about to tell him what had happened before the man stormed in, but just then Santana ran in being rather... loud. "Hobbit! I have the results of your boyfriend's blood test!"
The doctor closed his eyes and pressed his lips together in a thin line. Santana had the habit of becoming Satan whenever she wanted to. The nurse believed that her Mexican third eye was always right. So when she saw how Blaine did everything he could to save the young patient, she immediately assumed the doctor had a crush. He had rolled his eyes when it was first mentioned.
It was one thing to joke about these things in the staffroom, but saying such things in front of the patient's father was definetly not on his bucketlist.
Burt looked at the fierce Latina and raised his grey eyebrow. "Boyfriend, huh? He never told me that." The man's voice made Santana look at him. She smirked.
"Oops, can't apologize, Anderson. Those words don't exist in my dictionary."
The doctor glared at her. "Like I don't know that-"
"Too bad, his daddy knows now", the Latina interjected.
"He is NOT my boyfriend, Lopez. Have respect for your patients and especially their friends and relatives. It's not the first time I say this!"
"Don't be so defensive about it, makes it suspicious", Santana replied, obviously not caring.
"I am just passionate about my job and I want to save lives!"
Santana looked down at her nails and whistled, which made Blaine groan. "Give me the results, Satan, and get out of here!" He waved her off frustrated as the Latina laughed. She walked up to him and handed him the files before she left with a wink, still laughing. She closed the door behind her.
The room went silent for a few seconds. Blaine thought about Santana's words. Sure, Kurt was very good looking... like very, very good looking, but that thought didn't mean he had a crush, right?
Burt decided to break the silence by clearing his throat. "So, what are the results?"
The interruption caused the doctor to be ripped away from his thoughts. "Uhm... yeah, yeah..." Blaine opened the document with shaky hands and smiled at what he saw. "What do you think, mr. Hummel?"
"How would I know? You tell me!"
Blaine chuckled. "There was no alcohol or drugs in his blood which adds to his chances of full recovery from his wounds and concussion." The doctor took a card from the file and handed it to Burt, who looked at him questionably. The card was white in colour and showed the clinical lab's, hospital's and researcher's name in small letters at the top. The bloodtype A+ was shown on it in a big, bold lay-out. Underneath, the patient's name was displayed together with his date of birth and the date on which it was printed. "That's his blood card. I would recommend saving it near his passport. It will make it easier for other doctors might something happen again."
"Something else you'd like to acknowledge, doctor? Maybe the fact that I heard my son scream from across the hall?!" Burt's voice raised at the last part. Blaine's mouth stayed 'o'-shaped for a while before he answered honestly. Burt looked at him angrily. "He woke up and you let him faint?!"
"Sir, if I kept him concious, his heart would've stopped." The older man's head jerked up. "He was in full panick-mode and-", Blaine stared down at his feet. He felt like he was with his own father again: not being allowed to answer while looking in his father's eyes. Blaine always had to bow his head as a gesture of fear and obedience. "He- he would've died, sir."
The bald man was taciturn for a few breaths before answering in a tranquil and kind tone. "Oh, I guess I should thank you for keeping Kurt alive."
Blaine looked up surprised. "And I should apologize for breaking his ribs during the CPR."
Burt laughed, stood up and patted the doctor's shoulder. "Are you kiddin' or are you nuts?!" The young man smiled at the fatherly gesture he missed in his youth. "You saved my kid. I don't really know you, Blaine Anderson, but I have a feeling you need this." He grabbed both of the younger man's shoulders and shook him gently, smiling softly. "I am so proud of you! Thank you."
The doctor felt himself tearing up. "No, thank you. I- you're right. I needed that."
The simple but heartwarming moment was interrupted by a rustling noice. Burt's head snapped in the direction of his son on the hospital bed. "Kurt, buddy, wake up."
A few grunts were heard before a groan that was silent at first, but became louder the second time said. The voice was rusty with sleep and sounded dry.
"Dad?"
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End of chapter/Dr. Anderson