"You were out there for a few minutes, Carter," Peter told the younger man.
In a softer voice he added, "You had me worried." Benton glanced down at
him and once again, a silent communication passed between the two.
Carter glanced up from his prone position on the floor. Both doctors seemed
to be trying to keep something from him. The tension in the van was almost
as uncomfortable as breathing had become, and Carter wondered if there
was something else going on. The double images were gone, enabling him to
focus more clearly on his companions' faces. The unmerciful pounding in his
skull was playing havoc with his stomach, but he was able to keep the
nausea at bay. It was his chest and back that kept him from the confines of a
deep, relaxing sleep. He wished he were back in the silence of that void.
"G-g-god, I thought the p-p-pain was bad when I was t-t-hrown off that
gurney," Carter groaned, as he tried-and failed-to take a deep breath. The
pain rippling through his chest admonished him for his bad idea. And all he
could do was lie in agony, resuming the fruitless position of wrapping his
arms around his broken ribs.
"What are you talking about? When were you thrown?" Peter asked, upset
that he was unaware of this little event.
Mark answered for the injured man, since he felt it wasn't a good idea for
Carter to strain himself. "I told you about it, Peter." Mark wanted to keep the
conversation between him and the surgeon private. "Carter was pummeled
off a gurney while doing a hip reduction."
"Yeah, well why was he allowed to do such a procedure in the first place?
Who was supervising him?" Peter was outraged that Carter was participating
in procedures that his body was not ready for. He knew that, so why hadn't
anyone else understood the terms of his recovery?
"Kerry was there, but Carter insisted he was fine, Peter," Mark said
defending his colleague.
Carter closed his eyes while the doctors continued their argument. They
were discussing him as if he wasn't there. Making decisions and voicing
opinions on things that he took great measures to avoid. He had spent so
much energy gaining acceptance and proving himself, yet there were still
people doubting his choices.
"Hey!" he managed to yell. Carter tried to turn to his side to curl up against
the pain lancing across his chest. Peter put his hands on his shoulder to
restrain the movement.
"Don't move, Carter," Benton instructed him, as he tried to keep Carter's
fidgeting from adding to his problems.
Unable to move, Carter practically yelled what was going through his
mind."It was my fault. Alright?" He took a shuddering breath and continued.
"I-I-I just wanted to be normal. I-I-I wanted everything to be back t-t-t
tonormal." Carter gasped in pain, but he wouldn't let them keep him from
speaking what was on his mind. Pressing a hand on his chest to subdue some
of the anguish, he went on. "It wasn't normal. I-I-I wasn't the same. I did that
p-p-procedure just like I-I- I did all the others. In pain. That's why I t-t-took
the Fentanyl today. It was the quickest solution. I acted on instinct."
Carter's voice was shaking, and the other two doctors tried to calm him
down. "Carter, its okay, you don't have to explain anything. We had a role in
this too. We just don't want to admit it." Mark looked over at Peter who was
awkwardly trying to agree by comfortingly squeezing Carter's hand.
"We look out for each other. We're supposed to. But we failed to do that for
you. The rest of us sought some sense of normalcy after the attack. And to
do that we had to keep dealing with life. We should have been as involved in
all aspects of your recovery. We weren't, and--I'm sorry." Mark felt relieved,
as if by telling Carter what he was thinking, a burden had been lifted off his
shoulders.
Carter relaxed at Mark's words, letting them sink in. He didn't think Mark
had anything to feel guilty about. "Dr. Greene, there are some things we
can't prevent. I--I couldn't s-s-save Lucy. You couldn't h- h-help me
Sometimes we need to f-f-orgive ourselves." Carter closed his eyes, trying to
come up with the additional energy required to put Mark's mind at ease.
"I didn't learn that, till now. H-h-hearing you talk, sounded like my
conscience. The voice of d-d-doubt eating away at me. I-I-I couldn't do
anything to help Lucy. I g-g-guess that's why I just acted without th-th-
thinking on the road." Carter slowly and methodically turned his head to
look at Benton.
He waited for the dizziness to subside before he spoke. "That's why I pushed
y-y-you out of the way. I-I- could do something in that split second." He
took another shallow breath. "I just wasn't fast enough." Carter couldn't help
but chuckle at his inadequacies. He was always such a klutz when he was a
student. Nice to know that some things never changed.
Mark looked over at Benton. "That was reflex, Carter. You shouldn't feel
guilty for caring about another person. I think actions speak louder then
words and we all understand that."
"Yeah, well I think I owe Dr. Benton one anyway," Carter said turning his
head back to stare at the ceiling.
Peter released his grip on Carter's hand. "You didn't owe me anything,
Carter. That was a real stupid thing you did." Benton could see his former
student flinch at his strong words. "But--thank you."
Carter was surprised that Peter had actually said the words. So much had
changed in such a short period of time. "Dr. Benton, do you think I'll n-n-
need another operation?" Carter asked nervously. Both doctors didn't want to
raise his hopes, or lie.
Peter spoke first. "I don't know, Carter. There is some extensive bruising on
your right side, where the car hit you. I didn't see enough to indicate any
internal bleeding, but you know we need x- rays."
"I don't want another operation," Carter whispered. He didn't realize he had
spoken the words aloud. He didn't see the feelings of remorse and sadness
that flitted across his friends' faces.
He did know one thing for sure, however. "When I go to the hospital, I don't
want any pain medication," he said matter-of-factly.
"Carter, you're in a great deal of pain. I know what you're thinking and I
know what you've been through, but..."
"No more. Dr. Greene, I-I-I don't want any." Carter could see the doubt on
Mark's face. Understanding the conflict of emotions, Carter turned to Peter,
who he knew would respect his wishes.
"Dr. Benton, don't let them g-g-give me anything. Please." Carter's voice
was faltering. There was a long pause before Peter silently replied.
"Okay, Carter." Peter nodded his head, not wanting to argue with his friend.
He honestly wasn't sure he could keep his promise.
Carter was exhausted. The process of taking small, useless breaths was
sapping the little energy he had left. The rain had not tapered off in the
slightest, and his ears were filled with the pounding of the storm, which
seemed to reverb through the dead vehicle. The other two doctors were
silent, and he wasn't up to starting a conversation. Besides, he had a feeling
that Benton wouldn't allow him to speak. It was odd to see him so worried.
He hadn't seen that look of fear since that horrible night in the OR. In a way,
he was glad that he wasn't alone.
Peter was getting restless. There was nothing they could do, and the sound of
Carter's labored breathing was making him more and more anxious. He was
just so stubborn. When help arrived, he would have to convince him to
accept some form of pain medication. Peter's thoughts were interrupted
when he heard the distant sounds of sirens. He banged his head on the
ceiling as he stood up to look out the window. Mark was closest to the back
door. He had some difficulty releasing the lever in his rush to open the door.
Finally, he swung the door open, climbing out to direct the EMTs, nearly
falling in the process. He turned to Benton, who was following right behind
him.
"Stay with Carter, I'll go tell them what's going on." Mark walked away
leaving, Peter no choice but to remain with their patient.
Peter felt he had been Carter's primary doctor, and he wanted to inform them
of the patient's condition. He knew Mark was equally competent, but he felt
that he was in charge of Carter's care. He was almost tempted to jump out
and follow Mark, but managed to control himself, instead preparing Carter
to be transported. He knelt down beside him, observing that his breathing
was faster then it had been during the entire ordeal.
"Its going to be okay, man," Benton told the panicked doctor. "Help is here."
His face was shining with perspiration, and Carter locked eyes with him,
face frozen in that same mask of fear-an expression Benton never wanted to
see again. It was hard to reassure Carter when he himself was just as
worried. Peter grabbed his hand again for the third time that night. He held it
in his own, giving Carter strength and courage. "I will be there the entire
time, Carter. Nothing will be done without my knowledge." Peter knew he
shouldn't be promising things that he didn't have any control over, but hel
pwas here, and Carter needed to calm down.
Mark returned with two paramedics: one redheaded woman, and a burly,
ark-haired man. Peter didn't bother looking at their nametags; he just began
to bark orders to regain control over the situation. "We have a male
Caucasian, 29, struck by a vehicle. He has a concussion with two lapses of
consciousness. Complains of dizziness and blurred vision. He has two
broken ribs on the right side with a probable sternal fracture, no symptoms
of a flail chest..."
"Peter, I already went over everything," Mark called from outside the van.
Benton got out of the way of the EMTs and stood beside Mark as the two
paramedics slid a backboard into the van. They shifted Carter onto the board
after placing a cervical collar around his neck, asking him a series of routine
questions as they did so. Carter's replies were inaudible over the noise of the
transfer. Benton hopped into the back after the gurney, and ark went to the
front to sit in the passenger seat of the ambulance.
The lady paramedic started a large bore IV, then placed a blood pressure
cuff around Carter's arm. The other medic was cutting off Mark's old T-shirt.
Finally in a well-lit area, Peter could see the large bruises that marred Carter.
They were a dark shade of purple, covering his chest and dotting his side.
There were some scrapes that he hadn't noticed before. He prayed that he
hadn't overlooked anything else, anything more serious.
The male attendant was placing an oxygen mask over Carter's face while
radioing the hospital with his patient's vitals. "We have a male, 29, victim of
a hit and run. Pulse 125, BP 140 over 90. Resps 25 and shallow on the right
side. Our ETA is 15 to 20."
The EMT turned to Benton."How long ago was the accident?"
"About three hours ago," Benton replied.
"Any dementia or hallucinations?"
"No."
"What's his name?"
Benton was annoyed by these mundane questions, but wearily answered.
"Carter." Peter looked down at the patient. "John Carter."
The female medic began to place cardiac leads on his chest. She spoke to
him in a placating tone. "Now, Mr. Carter, we know you're a little distressed,
but you have to try to slow down your breathing."
Carter closed his eyes, willing his lungs to take slower, deeper breaths. He
could hear the heart monitor beeping faster as his rate of breathing slowed.
His blood pressure was probably through the roof, but he couldn't turn his
head to check on it with the neck collar on.
The female spoke again. "Looks like you sustained a chest injury. I know
you're in a lot of pain. We'll have you in the hospital in no time, and then the
doctors can..."
Peter cut her off, his voice irritated. "He's a doctor. He knows the routine
and he knows the tests. You don't have to talk to him like a patient." He
checked the blood pressure reading. It was up to 145 over 90.
"Please, ah, I presume Dr..."
"Dr. Benton," Peter finished for her.
"Well, Dr. Benton, please don't touch the instruments. And remember he is a
patient today. Alright?" The woman went back to monitoring Carter's vitals.
Peter Benton sat there quietly, feeling more and more fed up. The night had
all the ingredients of a bad dream, now it had erupted into an unstoppable
living nightmare. He just prayed it would end very shortly.
