To A Bitter End
The warm sun peeked through the window shades, cascading across her porcelain face. It illuminated each delicate feature, dancing over the blond strands of hair that fell across her innocent countenance. Carter could not take his eyes off her. So perfect as she slept. So beautiful. He brushed the hair from her forehead and a moment later, a smile crept across her face and her eyes fluttered open. "Hi," she breathed. "Hey, you." She closed her eyes again, and sighed softly, content beside the man she loved. He whispered through the silence. "Thank you, Abby. I don't know what I'd ever do without you." She knew he was referring to the previous night. She had been there to comfort him just as he'd always been there for her. "You don't need to thank me, John." In the silence that followed, the two simply watched each other, each at ease while doing so. Carter broke the silence once again. "Abby." her expression showed a trace of question, her eyes narrowed slightly, and her smile widened, "Abby I don't know what I'd do without you," he repeated, "I don't ever want to lose you. god, I love you." Abby's smile mirrored his own. He loved it when she smiled, and lately, it seemed a rare delight. Now he waited for her reply. "You know Carter." she taunted him, "Every night as I fall asleep in your arms I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world." Carter patiently awaited the words he knew would come. "I don't deserve you, John Carter- your love, your heart." She took his hand, their fingers fitting together perfectly, and deepened her gaze, "But all I know is that I love you. I love you."
Carter was just finished brushing his teeth when his pager went off in the kitchen. He jumped just a bit as the sound pierced the otherwise silent apartment, and he made his way from the bathroom, to turn it off. At the kitchen table, Abby greeted him with a smile, the strong scent of coffee lingering in the air as she poured two steaming mugs. Carter picked up his pager and turned it off, frowning as he put it in his pocket. "I thought you weren't on until twelve," Abby said, reading the disappointment in his face as he picked up the phone and began dialing. "Yeah, this John Carter, I was paged?" Abby could hear only muffled words for the other end of the line. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he said, and hung up the phone. "There was a six car pileup on South Canal Street. County's getting 4 major traumas, 2 minors." He sighed, "They're bringing in everybody." And as if on cue, Abby's pager went off on the counter. "Wonderful way to start the day."
Their jeep pulled up just as three more ambulances arrived, and the two jumped out to help with the nearest trauma. Nearby, Susan and Luka were hunched over a rushing gurney, a paramedic shouting the condition of the patient over the wailing sirens and deafening shouts. Weaver was barking to Corday about bringing someone up to surgery, and a hint of relief crossed her face as she caught sight of Carter and Abby. "Take this one to Trauma Two!" she hollered, gesturing towards a gurney being lifted from an ambulance close by. "22 year old male, no ID, neck and facial lac, blunt head trauma and possible fracture of the left wrist - from the steering wheel, airbag never deployed. LOC about 15 minutes, BP is 150 over 90, blood-loss, approximately 2 liters at the scene." The EMT rattled off the patient's stats while they rushed towards Trauma Two. "Move him, 1, 2, 3!" The trauma team heaved the man from the gurney, and Carter started shouting for tests. "Head CT, CBC, chem7, and 10 of O neg." A dozen hands flew over and around the bloody, battered body. Nurses and doctors gathered around the table, inserting IVs, assessing wounds, and checking reflexes. "He's throwing PVCs!" someone suddenly shouted. "We've lost a pulse." Carter jumped into action, searching for the source of the problem. The man wasn't breathing. "He's not getting any air. Look! Its lodged in his larynx," Abby gestured to a splinter of glass that had punctured the front and side of the man's neck. "Thank God, just missed the jugular vein." "We're going to have to cric him," Carter ordered, "Someone grab the cric tray!"
It took nearly 30 minutes, but finally, they managed to get him stable for transfer. Mark Hamilton - as he was identified by a relative who had arrived during his resuscitation - was brought up to surgery for extraction of the glass shards from his face and neck, and realignment of his wrist fracture.
Peeling off his bloodstained gown and gloves, Carter stepped back from the table, and then tossed them in the waste bin. Abby turned off the monitors and began changing the sheets on the trauma table. The two worked in silence, preparing the room for the next trauma. "It's 12 already?" Abby asked, glancing up at the clock a few minutes later. "Yeah, I guess it is." "Lunch?" she offered, "Magoo's? The cafeteria?" He shrugged, turning to place a box of IVs on a shelf behind him. "No?" Abby moved towards him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "John?" He turned to look at her, that same familiar troubled look in his eyes. "Sure, Doc Magoo's then." Carter left for the lounge without saying more. And Abby was left standing alone in the trauma room, wondering how the day could turn a person so bitter so quickly. asking herself what exactly to do next.
The warm sun peeked through the window shades, cascading across her porcelain face. It illuminated each delicate feature, dancing over the blond strands of hair that fell across her innocent countenance. Carter could not take his eyes off her. So perfect as she slept. So beautiful. He brushed the hair from her forehead and a moment later, a smile crept across her face and her eyes fluttered open. "Hi," she breathed. "Hey, you." She closed her eyes again, and sighed softly, content beside the man she loved. He whispered through the silence. "Thank you, Abby. I don't know what I'd ever do without you." She knew he was referring to the previous night. She had been there to comfort him just as he'd always been there for her. "You don't need to thank me, John." In the silence that followed, the two simply watched each other, each at ease while doing so. Carter broke the silence once again. "Abby." her expression showed a trace of question, her eyes narrowed slightly, and her smile widened, "Abby I don't know what I'd do without you," he repeated, "I don't ever want to lose you. god, I love you." Abby's smile mirrored his own. He loved it when she smiled, and lately, it seemed a rare delight. Now he waited for her reply. "You know Carter." she taunted him, "Every night as I fall asleep in your arms I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world." Carter patiently awaited the words he knew would come. "I don't deserve you, John Carter- your love, your heart." She took his hand, their fingers fitting together perfectly, and deepened her gaze, "But all I know is that I love you. I love you."
Carter was just finished brushing his teeth when his pager went off in the kitchen. He jumped just a bit as the sound pierced the otherwise silent apartment, and he made his way from the bathroom, to turn it off. At the kitchen table, Abby greeted him with a smile, the strong scent of coffee lingering in the air as she poured two steaming mugs. Carter picked up his pager and turned it off, frowning as he put it in his pocket. "I thought you weren't on until twelve," Abby said, reading the disappointment in his face as he picked up the phone and began dialing. "Yeah, this John Carter, I was paged?" Abby could hear only muffled words for the other end of the line. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he said, and hung up the phone. "There was a six car pileup on South Canal Street. County's getting 4 major traumas, 2 minors." He sighed, "They're bringing in everybody." And as if on cue, Abby's pager went off on the counter. "Wonderful way to start the day."
Their jeep pulled up just as three more ambulances arrived, and the two jumped out to help with the nearest trauma. Nearby, Susan and Luka were hunched over a rushing gurney, a paramedic shouting the condition of the patient over the wailing sirens and deafening shouts. Weaver was barking to Corday about bringing someone up to surgery, and a hint of relief crossed her face as she caught sight of Carter and Abby. "Take this one to Trauma Two!" she hollered, gesturing towards a gurney being lifted from an ambulance close by. "22 year old male, no ID, neck and facial lac, blunt head trauma and possible fracture of the left wrist - from the steering wheel, airbag never deployed. LOC about 15 minutes, BP is 150 over 90, blood-loss, approximately 2 liters at the scene." The EMT rattled off the patient's stats while they rushed towards Trauma Two. "Move him, 1, 2, 3!" The trauma team heaved the man from the gurney, and Carter started shouting for tests. "Head CT, CBC, chem7, and 10 of O neg." A dozen hands flew over and around the bloody, battered body. Nurses and doctors gathered around the table, inserting IVs, assessing wounds, and checking reflexes. "He's throwing PVCs!" someone suddenly shouted. "We've lost a pulse." Carter jumped into action, searching for the source of the problem. The man wasn't breathing. "He's not getting any air. Look! Its lodged in his larynx," Abby gestured to a splinter of glass that had punctured the front and side of the man's neck. "Thank God, just missed the jugular vein." "We're going to have to cric him," Carter ordered, "Someone grab the cric tray!"
It took nearly 30 minutes, but finally, they managed to get him stable for transfer. Mark Hamilton - as he was identified by a relative who had arrived during his resuscitation - was brought up to surgery for extraction of the glass shards from his face and neck, and realignment of his wrist fracture.
Peeling off his bloodstained gown and gloves, Carter stepped back from the table, and then tossed them in the waste bin. Abby turned off the monitors and began changing the sheets on the trauma table. The two worked in silence, preparing the room for the next trauma. "It's 12 already?" Abby asked, glancing up at the clock a few minutes later. "Yeah, I guess it is." "Lunch?" she offered, "Magoo's? The cafeteria?" He shrugged, turning to place a box of IVs on a shelf behind him. "No?" Abby moved towards him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "John?" He turned to look at her, that same familiar troubled look in his eyes. "Sure, Doc Magoo's then." Carter left for the lounge without saying more. And Abby was left standing alone in the trauma room, wondering how the day could turn a person so bitter so quickly. asking herself what exactly to do next.
