(Chapter 6. August 20th. CGH. Evening.)
Olivia looked at her watch and muttered in disgust because it wasn't there. She'd lost it moving in, and still hadn't located it. Searching the room for a clock, she found it was 6:45 and there was no way she would be able to meet Steve on time. She had been wrapping up some paperwork in her office and was about to leave when Dr. Macalvie had called her to the ER for a consult. Now she was going to be late.
She went back to her office for her jacket and got Steve's cell number from her Rolodex. She dialed and was surprised to get his voice mail. "Hey, Steve, it's Olivia. I'm running late, but I will be there. I'm not standing you up. Hope Chinese is ok. See you soon. Ciao."
She took up her crutches, paused a moment, and then set them aside. Her ankle had been feeling better and she thought she'd test it out now. She slowly eased her weight onto it, took a tentative step, then another. It was tender, but she could do without the crutches. Good. She stood them up in the corner, stuck her tongue out at the despised things, and locked the office behind her.
__Dr. Regis, you have a call on line two, Dr. Olivia Regis, answer line two please__.
She went back into her office and took the call.
"Olivia? Jesse. We have a head on collision on the way, and Evans and Macalvie are already busy. I know you were off two hours ago, but..."
"It was three, Jess, don't worry, I'll be there in a minute."
"Thanks, Liv."
She sighed, took off her jacket, and headed for the ER.
The nurse at the desk said it was 7:30. Olivia called Steve's cell number again. "Hey handsome! I've been held up at the hospital. Where're you? I really am on my way now. Hope you haven't decided to ditch me. Sorry. Tell you what happened when I get there."
The collision had been remarkably minor. Some bumps and bruises, a collarbone fractured by the seatbelt and a concussion. The occupants of both cars had been lucky. Evans and Macalvie were still busy with two much more serious trauma cases, a stabbing and a pedestrian victim of a hit-and- run, but Jesse had agreed to hang around until things eased up.
"You live on adrenaline and caffeine, don't you?"
Jesse grinned and faked a monstrous nervous twitch that distorted his youthful face and sent his whole body into spasms. "Yeah. I love it."
Olivia laughed. "Well, have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Sure thing, and Liv?"
"Yeah?"
"Prop that ankle up when you get home. I think you should still be on crutches."
"I hear ya, Jess. See ya."
"See ya. Wouldn't wanna be ya."
Just as she got through the ER doors, an ambulance roared up. She pulled the back doors open and knew she wasn't going anywhere soon.
"What have you got?"
"A cop shot six times with a large caliber weapon," the attendant said. "His partner and the shooter are on the way in another ambulance. One of the slugs went clean through him and grazed her. She says he got the shooter then fell half way down the stairs, rolled under the railing and fell to the floor. I guess he must be one tough son-of-a-bitch."
"Language, please," Olivia admonished.
The attendant shrugged and continued. "The way his partner puts it, he didn't go down until the shooting stopped." The legs of the gurney banged to the concrete, and the attendants raised it up and locked them in place. "Vitals are good, but he's been unconscious since before we arrived at the scene." As he started pushing the gurney through the doors, the attendant stepped aside to let Olivia see to the patient.
Olivia saw a clean-cut, square-jawed face topped with a head full of dark hair. "My, God. Steve!"
At that moment, Jesse came crashing through the doors. "What's up?"
"I've got this one, Jess. There are two more on the way."
Jesse turned to follow her as he recognized the patient. "Olivia, he's my best friend."
"I know, Jess. That's why you need to take another patient." To the ambulance attendant she said, "Trauma One is open." She left Jesse standing at the doors as another ambulance carrying Steve's shooter and his partner rolled up. He was torn between following her and seeing to the other patients, but his friend was in good hands, and she was right, he needed to take care of someone else.
"On my count, easy. One. Two. Three." They lifted Steve's inert form from the ambulance stretcher to the ER gurney. "Jehoshaphat! What did they use, a cannon?"
The ambulance attendant shrugged.
Steve's clothes had been cut away, and Olivia saw six bloody bandages. There was one on his right shin, just below the knee; another on his left thigh, near the hip, and four more across his pelvis.
"Exit wounds?"
"Two," the attendant told her. "One's on the right side of the pelvis. We guess that one that grazed his partner's hip. The other one's in his lower leg."
"Any blood spurting?"
"Didn't see any," was the reply. "No indication of serious arterial bleeding. The femoral artery seems to be intact, and the bullets appear to have missed all the vital organs. Man, if you're gonna get shot up, this is the right way to do it. He's the luckiest unlucky bastard I've ever seen."
"Mind your language!" she snapped at the attendant. Monitors were beeping, IV's were dripping, and there was a good deal of blood; but the bleeding was under control now, Steve was breathing, and he had a steady pulse. "I need a CAT scan, a full set of x-rays..." Olivia started rattling off her list of orders as she flashed her penlight in Steve's left eye and then his right.
"How is he? What happened? Steve? Son? Talk to me."
Olivia looked at the nurse and murmured, "Take him out to the waiting area. I'll be there as soon as I can. Calm him down, get him a cup of coffee, whatever, but get him out of here." Then she spoke aloud, "Mark, he can't answer you, he's unconscious. His vitals are good and his pupils, equal and responsive. I need you to wait outside. I'll take good care of him."
"Please let me see him," the older man pleaded, but Olivia was insistent.
"Soon, Mark, but right now I'm busy taking care of him. You'll be in the way."
Mark reluctantly allowed himself to be escorted back to the ER lobby.
As she waited for the techs to arrive to run the requested tests, Olivia smoothed her patient's hair and called, "Steve? Steve! You need to wake up for me, baby. I need to talk to you. Come on, Steve, I know you're in there. Your vitals are too strong for you not to be."
The blue eyes fluttered open, then squeezed shut in pain. "Oh, God," he moaned. "It hurts. Oh, my God, it hurts."
Olivia continued to stroke his hair back and to talk to him calmly and slowly. "I know it hurts, baby, but you've got to tell me how bad and where."
Tears of pain forced their way from the corners of his eyes. "My right shoulder."
"Your right shoulder? Steve, you weren't even shot there."
"I was shot? Ah, hell."
Olivia winced at the curse, but couldn't help smiling at the response. "Yeah. Heck of a way to break our dinner date, huh?"
He laughed then moaned. "I used to love your sense of humor."
The techs showed up with their equipment. Olivia checked the monitors one more time, and told the nurse, "Stay with him. I'll be right outside. If there's any change, come get me, STAT." Then she smoothed Steve's hair one more time and told him, "You're hurt pretty bad, Steve, but you're stable now. We're going to get some x-rays and run a few tests."
"I want my dad," he moaned
"I know, sweetie. I'm going to go talk to him now. Once I've briefed him, I'll bring him back here. Ok?"
"All right." He put on a brave face as she turned to go, but then called out in a frightened voice, "Olivia? Don't be gone long?"
"I won't, Steve."
The clock in the ER waiting room read eight p.m. Olivia had been in the hospital twelve hours already, and it looked like it was going to be a long night. As soon as Mark saw her coming out of Trauma One, he bounced up and hustled over to her. Amanda and Steve's partner, Cheryl, were with him now, and Jesse was just coming from Trauma Three. His patient was cuffed to a wheel chair and was being escorted off to another part of the hospital. Questions flew at Olivia.
"How is he? What happened? Will he be all right? Is he stable? Has he regained consciousness? Does he know what happened?"
Olivia answered, "In reverse order, sort of, yes, yes, in time he should be, he was shot then fell, and it's not as bad as it looks, but he ain't great, either."
"Thank, God."
"Well, that's something."
"When can I see him?"
"Soon, Mark," Olivia promised. "I'm glad you're all here, this way I only have to brief you once."
It always seemed easier on the family and friends if she told all of them everything at once. Maybe it was just easier on her. She took a deep breath and started. "He was shot six times with a large caliber weapon, then fell down half a flight of stairs before he slipped between the rails and dropped to the floor." She looked at Cheryl for confirmation.
The other woman nodded. "It was amazing. He knew he was hurt bad, but he stayed on his feet until he was sure he'd got the shooter." Turning to Mark, she said, "Dr. Sloan, I'm sorry. I was supposed to be his back-up, but I guess I didn't do a very good job."
Mark patted her on the shoulder, "It's all right, honey. It's not your fault. I know you did everything you could."
Olivia continued. "He still has four slugs inside him. God must have had his hand on him, though, because they appear to have missed all the vital organs and all the major blood vessels. He's stable, he's conscious, he's lucid, the bleeding is under control, and right now, we're just waiting for the CAT scan and the x-rays. I think he may have a concussion, a broken shoulder or collarbone, and several other broken bones. His heartbeat and respiration are good, and he's asking for you, Mark."
"When can I see him?"
"I'll take you back now, Mark, but I don't want you to stay too long. I'm going to have to take him to surgery soon. Cheryl, Jesse and Amanda, would you mind waiting here?"
Steve's friends nodded, and sat back down in the waiting room chairs.
In the trauma room, Mark walked over to his son and rested a hand on his chest. He leaned in close and said softly, "Steve, son? Can you hear me?"
"Dad?" Though Steve's voice was shaky, it was not as weak as Mark expected, but he didn't open his eyes.
"Look at me, son."
Steve opened his eyes long enough for Mark to see the pain and fear there then shut them again tightly. "The light hurts."
Mark nodded. "You probably have a concussion."
Steve moaned. "I thought so. Oh, Dad, I'm sorry. It hurts so much."
"Don't be sorry, son. I know it hurts, but you'll be ok. I'm very proud of you. You're being very strong. Cheryl told me how you stopped the shooter." Mark continued to murmur words of encouragement to his son as Olivia got the results of the CAT scan and the x-rays and examined them carefully.
"Mark?" She called softly and beckoned him over.
"I'm just two steps away son. Speak up if you need me."
"Ok, Dad."
"What have we got?" Mark asked.
Olivia put the images up one by one, explaining each as she did so.
"The CAT scan shows us no surprises. He's got a concussion and the Devil's own headache, but that's all." She looked at Mark and he concurred with a nod of his head.
Olivia put up the first x-ray. "I was right about the broken clavicle, but it's a clean break. No major problems here."
Mark nodded again, and again when she put up the next image and said simply, "Some cracked ribs."
She put up another picture, the x-ray of Steve's lower right leg. Just below the knee, the two bones looked like they'd had bites taken out of them. Olivia said, "When the bullet went through it took chunks of his fibula and tibia with it. It's like a puzzle without all the pieces. His right leg is going to be shorter than the left at first, but we can fix that with a fixator."
"You mean to stretch it as the bone heals?"
"Exactly. It will be uncomfortable for Steve, but in the long run, it will pay off, I think."
Mark rubbed his hands over his face and then held his chin between the palms of his hands as Olivia continued.
She used her knuckle to draw a circle around the image of Steve's left femur. "We're a little better off here. We still have all of it, but it's going to be a trick to hold everything together. If the bullet had passed through, it would have been a different story. If it had hit the femoral artery he could have lost the leg."
Mark nodded, "Or worse." Then he asked, "Olivia, what are you holding back?"
She put up the final x-ray and said, "Mark, this is a mess. His pelvis is shattered in a spider-web pattern like a windshield that's been hit by stones. Most of the pieces are small. It's about as bad as I have ever seen. He's also got a perforated colon. That we can fix, no problem, but things are going to be complicated with the shattered pelvis."
The older doctor dropped his head and covered his face. He knew this injury meant his son might never walk again. Olivia put a comforting hand on his shoulder. When he finally looked up, his eyes were red rimmed, but he was in control of himself. "What can you do for him?"
"I just received approval for my new study. Steve is a perfect candidate."
Mark shook his head. "No. I will not have my son used as a lab rat."
Olivia took him by both shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Mark, this kind of thing is exactly what you hired me to do. If you believe in me enough to hire me, then you have to believe I can help your son."
He shook his head again. "No, Olivia, I can't allow it."
She didn't let go of his shoulders, but asked, "Do you have religious convictions, Mark?"
He nodded, "But I don't generally advertise them."
"Usually, neither do I," she admitted, "But Mark, this is why I'm here tonight. I was late meeting Steve for dinner. I was on my way out that door when they brought him in. I am here because God knows I am the only one who can do this. He knows I am the best because he made me what I am, and I can fix it. I absolutely can fix it, Mark. I believe that, but I need you to believe in me. More importantly, Steve needs you to believe in me."
He studied her face, and, for the first time since that terrible moment when he saw her holding a gun on his son, he saw it. He saw the confidence that she'd had the day he hired her. Now he thought he understood where it came from. He was amazed that someone who so firmly believed that God himself had chosen her could have any humility at all. He could see that her faith was unshakable, and he knew she was his son's best chance at a full recovery. "I-I'll talk to him. I'll explain the treatment. I'll get his consent."
Olivia nodded once. "I'm going to scrub. You're doing the right thing, Mark. I promise." She paused by her patient and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Your dad's going to explain some things to you. I'll see you in a few minutes."
Steve never opened his eyes, but he did say, "Ok."
Olivia stopped at the ER desk and said, "I need an OR for Steve Sloan. Which one is open?"
"Three is ready, Doctor."
"Who's available to assist?"
"Dr. Evans just scrubbed out."
"Ask him to scrub in again, please."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And nurse?"
"Ma'am?"
"I haven't eaten since noon. It's going to be a long night. Could you please have someone in the cafeteria bring a roast beef sandwich and a chocolate milk to the lounge next to the surgeons' locker room?"
"Yes, ma'am. Right away."
Olivia changed as fast as she could, and she wolfed her sandwich and gulped her milk on the way to the scrub room. Still when she arrived in the OR, the team was assembled, the patient was draped and unconscious, and Jesse Travis was in the way. She walked up to the operating table, and commanded quietly, "Dr. Travis, scrub out."
"No, way, Olivia. He's my best friend. I'm going to be here for him."
"Dr. Travis, I am not working with an audience tonight, and you are *not* assisting. Scrub out now."
"I'm staying, Liv."
"You have five seconds before I call security."
"I'm not going."
"Four."
"Liv, don't do this."
"Three."
Jesse stood his ground.
"Two...One. Nurse..."
"DAMMIT, LIV!" Jesse shouted his frustration. He slammed out the OR doors. The surgical team watched through the window of the scrub room as he tore off his mask, gloves, and cap, slammed his hand against the lockers, and stormed out through the scrub room door.
"He's pissed," Dr. Evans observed.
"Such language! I'll settle with him later. Right now, I don't care. Ladies and gentlemen, let's begin."
Olivia looked at her watch and muttered in disgust because it wasn't there. She'd lost it moving in, and still hadn't located it. Searching the room for a clock, she found it was 6:45 and there was no way she would be able to meet Steve on time. She had been wrapping up some paperwork in her office and was about to leave when Dr. Macalvie had called her to the ER for a consult. Now she was going to be late.
She went back to her office for her jacket and got Steve's cell number from her Rolodex. She dialed and was surprised to get his voice mail. "Hey, Steve, it's Olivia. I'm running late, but I will be there. I'm not standing you up. Hope Chinese is ok. See you soon. Ciao."
She took up her crutches, paused a moment, and then set them aside. Her ankle had been feeling better and she thought she'd test it out now. She slowly eased her weight onto it, took a tentative step, then another. It was tender, but she could do without the crutches. Good. She stood them up in the corner, stuck her tongue out at the despised things, and locked the office behind her.
__Dr. Regis, you have a call on line two, Dr. Olivia Regis, answer line two please__.
She went back into her office and took the call.
"Olivia? Jesse. We have a head on collision on the way, and Evans and Macalvie are already busy. I know you were off two hours ago, but..."
"It was three, Jess, don't worry, I'll be there in a minute."
"Thanks, Liv."
She sighed, took off her jacket, and headed for the ER.
The nurse at the desk said it was 7:30. Olivia called Steve's cell number again. "Hey handsome! I've been held up at the hospital. Where're you? I really am on my way now. Hope you haven't decided to ditch me. Sorry. Tell you what happened when I get there."
The collision had been remarkably minor. Some bumps and bruises, a collarbone fractured by the seatbelt and a concussion. The occupants of both cars had been lucky. Evans and Macalvie were still busy with two much more serious trauma cases, a stabbing and a pedestrian victim of a hit-and- run, but Jesse had agreed to hang around until things eased up.
"You live on adrenaline and caffeine, don't you?"
Jesse grinned and faked a monstrous nervous twitch that distorted his youthful face and sent his whole body into spasms. "Yeah. I love it."
Olivia laughed. "Well, have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Sure thing, and Liv?"
"Yeah?"
"Prop that ankle up when you get home. I think you should still be on crutches."
"I hear ya, Jess. See ya."
"See ya. Wouldn't wanna be ya."
Just as she got through the ER doors, an ambulance roared up. She pulled the back doors open and knew she wasn't going anywhere soon.
"What have you got?"
"A cop shot six times with a large caliber weapon," the attendant said. "His partner and the shooter are on the way in another ambulance. One of the slugs went clean through him and grazed her. She says he got the shooter then fell half way down the stairs, rolled under the railing and fell to the floor. I guess he must be one tough son-of-a-bitch."
"Language, please," Olivia admonished.
The attendant shrugged and continued. "The way his partner puts it, he didn't go down until the shooting stopped." The legs of the gurney banged to the concrete, and the attendants raised it up and locked them in place. "Vitals are good, but he's been unconscious since before we arrived at the scene." As he started pushing the gurney through the doors, the attendant stepped aside to let Olivia see to the patient.
Olivia saw a clean-cut, square-jawed face topped with a head full of dark hair. "My, God. Steve!"
At that moment, Jesse came crashing through the doors. "What's up?"
"I've got this one, Jess. There are two more on the way."
Jesse turned to follow her as he recognized the patient. "Olivia, he's my best friend."
"I know, Jess. That's why you need to take another patient." To the ambulance attendant she said, "Trauma One is open." She left Jesse standing at the doors as another ambulance carrying Steve's shooter and his partner rolled up. He was torn between following her and seeing to the other patients, but his friend was in good hands, and she was right, he needed to take care of someone else.
"On my count, easy. One. Two. Three." They lifted Steve's inert form from the ambulance stretcher to the ER gurney. "Jehoshaphat! What did they use, a cannon?"
The ambulance attendant shrugged.
Steve's clothes had been cut away, and Olivia saw six bloody bandages. There was one on his right shin, just below the knee; another on his left thigh, near the hip, and four more across his pelvis.
"Exit wounds?"
"Two," the attendant told her. "One's on the right side of the pelvis. We guess that one that grazed his partner's hip. The other one's in his lower leg."
"Any blood spurting?"
"Didn't see any," was the reply. "No indication of serious arterial bleeding. The femoral artery seems to be intact, and the bullets appear to have missed all the vital organs. Man, if you're gonna get shot up, this is the right way to do it. He's the luckiest unlucky bastard I've ever seen."
"Mind your language!" she snapped at the attendant. Monitors were beeping, IV's were dripping, and there was a good deal of blood; but the bleeding was under control now, Steve was breathing, and he had a steady pulse. "I need a CAT scan, a full set of x-rays..." Olivia started rattling off her list of orders as she flashed her penlight in Steve's left eye and then his right.
"How is he? What happened? Steve? Son? Talk to me."
Olivia looked at the nurse and murmured, "Take him out to the waiting area. I'll be there as soon as I can. Calm him down, get him a cup of coffee, whatever, but get him out of here." Then she spoke aloud, "Mark, he can't answer you, he's unconscious. His vitals are good and his pupils, equal and responsive. I need you to wait outside. I'll take good care of him."
"Please let me see him," the older man pleaded, but Olivia was insistent.
"Soon, Mark, but right now I'm busy taking care of him. You'll be in the way."
Mark reluctantly allowed himself to be escorted back to the ER lobby.
As she waited for the techs to arrive to run the requested tests, Olivia smoothed her patient's hair and called, "Steve? Steve! You need to wake up for me, baby. I need to talk to you. Come on, Steve, I know you're in there. Your vitals are too strong for you not to be."
The blue eyes fluttered open, then squeezed shut in pain. "Oh, God," he moaned. "It hurts. Oh, my God, it hurts."
Olivia continued to stroke his hair back and to talk to him calmly and slowly. "I know it hurts, baby, but you've got to tell me how bad and where."
Tears of pain forced their way from the corners of his eyes. "My right shoulder."
"Your right shoulder? Steve, you weren't even shot there."
"I was shot? Ah, hell."
Olivia winced at the curse, but couldn't help smiling at the response. "Yeah. Heck of a way to break our dinner date, huh?"
He laughed then moaned. "I used to love your sense of humor."
The techs showed up with their equipment. Olivia checked the monitors one more time, and told the nurse, "Stay with him. I'll be right outside. If there's any change, come get me, STAT." Then she smoothed Steve's hair one more time and told him, "You're hurt pretty bad, Steve, but you're stable now. We're going to get some x-rays and run a few tests."
"I want my dad," he moaned
"I know, sweetie. I'm going to go talk to him now. Once I've briefed him, I'll bring him back here. Ok?"
"All right." He put on a brave face as she turned to go, but then called out in a frightened voice, "Olivia? Don't be gone long?"
"I won't, Steve."
The clock in the ER waiting room read eight p.m. Olivia had been in the hospital twelve hours already, and it looked like it was going to be a long night. As soon as Mark saw her coming out of Trauma One, he bounced up and hustled over to her. Amanda and Steve's partner, Cheryl, were with him now, and Jesse was just coming from Trauma Three. His patient was cuffed to a wheel chair and was being escorted off to another part of the hospital. Questions flew at Olivia.
"How is he? What happened? Will he be all right? Is he stable? Has he regained consciousness? Does he know what happened?"
Olivia answered, "In reverse order, sort of, yes, yes, in time he should be, he was shot then fell, and it's not as bad as it looks, but he ain't great, either."
"Thank, God."
"Well, that's something."
"When can I see him?"
"Soon, Mark," Olivia promised. "I'm glad you're all here, this way I only have to brief you once."
It always seemed easier on the family and friends if she told all of them everything at once. Maybe it was just easier on her. She took a deep breath and started. "He was shot six times with a large caliber weapon, then fell down half a flight of stairs before he slipped between the rails and dropped to the floor." She looked at Cheryl for confirmation.
The other woman nodded. "It was amazing. He knew he was hurt bad, but he stayed on his feet until he was sure he'd got the shooter." Turning to Mark, she said, "Dr. Sloan, I'm sorry. I was supposed to be his back-up, but I guess I didn't do a very good job."
Mark patted her on the shoulder, "It's all right, honey. It's not your fault. I know you did everything you could."
Olivia continued. "He still has four slugs inside him. God must have had his hand on him, though, because they appear to have missed all the vital organs and all the major blood vessels. He's stable, he's conscious, he's lucid, the bleeding is under control, and right now, we're just waiting for the CAT scan and the x-rays. I think he may have a concussion, a broken shoulder or collarbone, and several other broken bones. His heartbeat and respiration are good, and he's asking for you, Mark."
"When can I see him?"
"I'll take you back now, Mark, but I don't want you to stay too long. I'm going to have to take him to surgery soon. Cheryl, Jesse and Amanda, would you mind waiting here?"
Steve's friends nodded, and sat back down in the waiting room chairs.
In the trauma room, Mark walked over to his son and rested a hand on his chest. He leaned in close and said softly, "Steve, son? Can you hear me?"
"Dad?" Though Steve's voice was shaky, it was not as weak as Mark expected, but he didn't open his eyes.
"Look at me, son."
Steve opened his eyes long enough for Mark to see the pain and fear there then shut them again tightly. "The light hurts."
Mark nodded. "You probably have a concussion."
Steve moaned. "I thought so. Oh, Dad, I'm sorry. It hurts so much."
"Don't be sorry, son. I know it hurts, but you'll be ok. I'm very proud of you. You're being very strong. Cheryl told me how you stopped the shooter." Mark continued to murmur words of encouragement to his son as Olivia got the results of the CAT scan and the x-rays and examined them carefully.
"Mark?" She called softly and beckoned him over.
"I'm just two steps away son. Speak up if you need me."
"Ok, Dad."
"What have we got?" Mark asked.
Olivia put the images up one by one, explaining each as she did so.
"The CAT scan shows us no surprises. He's got a concussion and the Devil's own headache, but that's all." She looked at Mark and he concurred with a nod of his head.
Olivia put up the first x-ray. "I was right about the broken clavicle, but it's a clean break. No major problems here."
Mark nodded again, and again when she put up the next image and said simply, "Some cracked ribs."
She put up another picture, the x-ray of Steve's lower right leg. Just below the knee, the two bones looked like they'd had bites taken out of them. Olivia said, "When the bullet went through it took chunks of his fibula and tibia with it. It's like a puzzle without all the pieces. His right leg is going to be shorter than the left at first, but we can fix that with a fixator."
"You mean to stretch it as the bone heals?"
"Exactly. It will be uncomfortable for Steve, but in the long run, it will pay off, I think."
Mark rubbed his hands over his face and then held his chin between the palms of his hands as Olivia continued.
She used her knuckle to draw a circle around the image of Steve's left femur. "We're a little better off here. We still have all of it, but it's going to be a trick to hold everything together. If the bullet had passed through, it would have been a different story. If it had hit the femoral artery he could have lost the leg."
Mark nodded, "Or worse." Then he asked, "Olivia, what are you holding back?"
She put up the final x-ray and said, "Mark, this is a mess. His pelvis is shattered in a spider-web pattern like a windshield that's been hit by stones. Most of the pieces are small. It's about as bad as I have ever seen. He's also got a perforated colon. That we can fix, no problem, but things are going to be complicated with the shattered pelvis."
The older doctor dropped his head and covered his face. He knew this injury meant his son might never walk again. Olivia put a comforting hand on his shoulder. When he finally looked up, his eyes were red rimmed, but he was in control of himself. "What can you do for him?"
"I just received approval for my new study. Steve is a perfect candidate."
Mark shook his head. "No. I will not have my son used as a lab rat."
Olivia took him by both shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Mark, this kind of thing is exactly what you hired me to do. If you believe in me enough to hire me, then you have to believe I can help your son."
He shook his head again. "No, Olivia, I can't allow it."
She didn't let go of his shoulders, but asked, "Do you have religious convictions, Mark?"
He nodded, "But I don't generally advertise them."
"Usually, neither do I," she admitted, "But Mark, this is why I'm here tonight. I was late meeting Steve for dinner. I was on my way out that door when they brought him in. I am here because God knows I am the only one who can do this. He knows I am the best because he made me what I am, and I can fix it. I absolutely can fix it, Mark. I believe that, but I need you to believe in me. More importantly, Steve needs you to believe in me."
He studied her face, and, for the first time since that terrible moment when he saw her holding a gun on his son, he saw it. He saw the confidence that she'd had the day he hired her. Now he thought he understood where it came from. He was amazed that someone who so firmly believed that God himself had chosen her could have any humility at all. He could see that her faith was unshakable, and he knew she was his son's best chance at a full recovery. "I-I'll talk to him. I'll explain the treatment. I'll get his consent."
Olivia nodded once. "I'm going to scrub. You're doing the right thing, Mark. I promise." She paused by her patient and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Your dad's going to explain some things to you. I'll see you in a few minutes."
Steve never opened his eyes, but he did say, "Ok."
Olivia stopped at the ER desk and said, "I need an OR for Steve Sloan. Which one is open?"
"Three is ready, Doctor."
"Who's available to assist?"
"Dr. Evans just scrubbed out."
"Ask him to scrub in again, please."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And nurse?"
"Ma'am?"
"I haven't eaten since noon. It's going to be a long night. Could you please have someone in the cafeteria bring a roast beef sandwich and a chocolate milk to the lounge next to the surgeons' locker room?"
"Yes, ma'am. Right away."
Olivia changed as fast as she could, and she wolfed her sandwich and gulped her milk on the way to the scrub room. Still when she arrived in the OR, the team was assembled, the patient was draped and unconscious, and Jesse Travis was in the way. She walked up to the operating table, and commanded quietly, "Dr. Travis, scrub out."
"No, way, Olivia. He's my best friend. I'm going to be here for him."
"Dr. Travis, I am not working with an audience tonight, and you are *not* assisting. Scrub out now."
"I'm staying, Liv."
"You have five seconds before I call security."
"I'm not going."
"Four."
"Liv, don't do this."
"Three."
Jesse stood his ground.
"Two...One. Nurse..."
"DAMMIT, LIV!" Jesse shouted his frustration. He slammed out the OR doors. The surgical team watched through the window of the scrub room as he tore off his mask, gloves, and cap, slammed his hand against the lockers, and stormed out through the scrub room door.
"He's pissed," Dr. Evans observed.
"Such language! I'll settle with him later. Right now, I don't care. Ladies and gentlemen, let's begin."