Hours later, Anspaugh emerged from the OR. Erin had miraculously
drifted off in Luka's embrace. Even though he was as gentle as possible
rousing her, she came awake with a full body jerk. Her eyes moved in a
panic from Luka to Dr. Anspaugh, and she lurched to her feet.
"Robert?" Her voice was timid.
Donald gave her a wry smile. "He's stabilized, and we were able to reattach," he explained. "I don't know exactly how much function he'll regain, but he's got the best chances anyone in his situation could have." Erin covered her face with her hands, sobbing with relief and heartache, and san back into her chair. Donald looked from her to Kovac, his face a mask of confusion. "Am I missing something?" He asked as Luka gently pulled him aside. "She seems quite upset."
"Apparently she and Dr. Romano are .involved." Luka explained in a murmur.
"Romantically?" Kovac nodded. "Well, bully for Robert," Donald commended heartily. He moved to sit next to Erin, laying a comforting hand on her knee. "Dr. Windsor, he's going to be just fine. We're making arrangements to have him moved, although, I'm not sure where yet. He's triggering the vent on his own, but I think it's best we wait until he's settled before we extubate."
She tried to smile at him, but her eyes were wet and full of anguish. "Can I see him please?"
Anspaugh nodded silently, taking her arm and helping her to her feet. Luka followed behind them as they walked into recovery. Erin made her way to Robert's right side and took his hand in hers. "I'm here," she whispered. "I'm here, and Donald says you're going to be fine." The monitor sounding out the beats of his heart continued it's uniform beeping. She leaned in closer. "I know you can hear me, Robert. I know you're in there somewhere." His finger twitched against her palm, probably just a reflex, but it was enough to calm her a bit. She looked up at Anspaugh. "Will they let me go with him?"
"I'll make sure of it." Donald moved closer to her. "He's very lucky to have you. He's got a long, hard road ahead of him, and he's going to need all the support he can get."
Erin nodded, and a tear fell from her cheek onto Robert's arm. She hastily wiped it away. Donald checked the monitor leads one last time, then turned to leave. "We'll give you a moment alone before we move him." He gestured for Luka to follow him. Erin held out her hand. He accepted it, gently squeezing her fingers. "Thank you," she said softly. Kovac dropped a small bow, and then slipped quietly from the room. Erin sank to her knees, resting her arms and chin on the cold metal of the guardrail.
"I know you've always fancied yourself the dashing surgeon," she whispered. "Well, let me tell you something, baby: you look much better standing over the table than laying on it. So, what's say we not try this again, okay?" She ran her hand over his smooth head before kissing him gently in the center, a gesture she knew he detested. "Sorry, sweetie, but if you don't like it, you'd better wake up and tell me to stop." This time she knew it was no mistake when his fingers tightened the smallest fraction around hers. "Okay, okay. That's good enough. For now."
The doors swung open, and Donald, Luka and two EMT's walked into the room. "Someone call for a cab to Saint Anthony's?"
"That would be us." Erin rose to her feet and helped wheel the gurney outside. The EMT's loaded it into the back of a waiting ambulance, and Erin hugged Luka tightly. "Thank you again." Then she turned to Donald. "Dr. Anspaugh."
"Now, you just go and see that he gets settled in. Oh, and make sure you warn the staff. I doubt Rocket will be in a pleasant mood when he wakes up." Erin actually found herself laughing, and leaned in to kiss the surgeon's cheek. "Thank you," she smiled warmly. Dr. Anspaugh took her hand and helped her into the rig, then he and Luka swung the doors shut.
As they made the drive to St. Anthony's, Robert's heart rate spiked from it's previously steady ninety-two up to one hundred eleven. "Is he having arrhythmia?" One of the paramedics asked, glancing at the monitor in concern. Erin could see sluggish movement beneath his eyelids and shook her head.
"Anesthetic's wearing off." She opened the drug box and surveyed its contents. She selected a vial and syringe. "Pushing ten of diazepam," she reported, inserting the needle into his IV line and pressing the plunger. After a few moments, Robert's heart rate dropped back to eighty-seven, and Erin sighed heavily. "What's our ETA?"
Moments later, the ambulance arrived at St. Anthony's patient receiving bay, and she lost herself in the bustle of the transport. She soon found herself alone at Robert's bedside with very little memory of how she got there. A young man in scrubs and a lab coat appeared in the doorway. "This is Robert Romano from Cook County General?" Erin nodded, and he crossed the room briskly. "I'm Tim Galloway, surgical resident. I spoke with a Dr. Anspaugh? About admission?" Erin was still nodding mechanically, so the young man pressed on. "Dr. Malcolm, our head of orthopedics, won't be in until tomorrow morning. But it's been a quiet night. I'm sure I'll be able to give Dr. Romano the attention he needs." Erin still stood, immobile, so he took her hand and shook it firmly. "And you are?"
"Windsor. Erin. I work at County as well."
"Well, then, Dr. Windsor, would you care to assist me in getting that tube out of your boss?"
She moved automatically through the extubation, and waited tensely after the tube was clear. After a few seconds, Robert's chest began to rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Erin breathed a shuddery sigh of relief, and her face seemed to clear. Dr. Galloway made a few notes on the chart, then took the opportunity to address her while she seemed to be more in focus. "We're going to order him up some new meds," he explained. "He'll probably be out for a day or two." Erin nodded again, not catching the meaning in the man's voice. "You should take advantage of that. Go home, get some rest." She opened her mouth to object, but he held up his hand to silence her. "Look, doctor, I know you want to be here when he wakes up, but that's not going to happen for quite a while. And when he does wake up, you'll want to be one hundred percent. He'll need you to be one hundred percent. You try and wait it out here, and you'll never make it. That won't do either of you any good."
Erin relented, suddenly remembering the lockdown, and realizing she was wearing the same clothes she'd dressed in almost forty hours before. She looked down and winced at her soiled lab coat. Dr. Galloway followed her gaze. "We can launder that for you here and have it ready tomorrow morning," he offered. She smiled gratefully and began to slide it off her shoulders. It was then that she caught sight of the front of her blouse, which was covered in blood. As it sank in that it was Robert's, she began to shake, pulling the stained material away from her skin. Dr. Galloway rushed from the room, returning a moment later with a fresh scrub top. Erin accepted it numbly. "Look, leave me your numbers, and I promise, I'll have you called or paged if there is any change." Clearly, uncomfortable, he left once more, pulling the door closed this time. It had barely latched before Erin was ripping the shirt from her body in horror. She realized he camisole was stained as well, and tore it off as well. Then she hurried to the sink and frantically washed her chest and stomach before dropping the scrub top over her head. She splashed cold water on her face, and forced herself to regain control.
She returned to Robert's side for a moment, listening to his breathing. Then she bent over and kissed his lips tenderly. "I'm going to go check on the girls," she whispered in a choked voice. "Maybe grab a shower. But I'll be back before you wake up. I promise." She kissed him once more, then lifted the metal clipboard from the foot of the bed. She jotted down her home number and pager number. Then, replacing the chart, she forced herself to exit the room, dumping her blood stained clothing in the biohazard bin on her way out.
She hailed a cab outside, and almost directed the female driver back to County before remembering that Robert had driven her to work the previous morning. It seemed like years had passed since they exchanged a secret goodbye in the parking garage before going separate ways. She closed her eyes and lay her head back against the vinyl seat. Arriving at home, she fished a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket. "I'm sorry it's such a lousy tip," she held it out to the cabbie. The woman regarded her thoughtfully, then brushed her hand away. "This one's on me, honey. Looks like you've paid enough today." Erin barely had time to thank her, and she was gone. It dawned on Erin that, since Robert had driven, her keys were locked inside the house. "Dammit," she muttered, plodding her way to the garage door. God smiled - it was unlocked.
As she stepped into the hallway, both dogs trotted over to greet her. "Hey girls, thank the Lord for doggie doors, huh?" As she made her way to the bedroom, Sophie ambled after her, but Gretel remained planted at the door. "Come on, girl," Erin called weakly. The dog turned her dark head and gave a plaintive whine. "I know," Erin commiserated. "I miss him, too. Come on." At long last, the animal relented and followed reluctantly. The three entered the bedroom together, and the dogs took their usual positions, one on one side of the bed, one draped across the foot. "Nobody's coming to kick you out tonight, either," Erin mused sadly, sitting down and stroking their soft fur. She caught sight of something on the floor, half under the bed. She pulled it out, and realized it was Robert's shirt, discarded a few nights before. She pressed it to her cheek, breathing in his scent. Then she lifted her pillow and slid it into the garment. Finally, she lay down, hugging it to her chest and burying her face in its cool softness. Fatigue and distress overcame her, and she was gone, not quite having passed out, not quite having fallen asleep.
She barely moved for fourteen hours, sleeping heavily and without dreaming. When she finally awoke, blinking swollen eyes in the daylight, she tried to convince herself that all the horror was just a nightmare, that none of it had really happened. But reality would not be denied; she was alone in the bed, she was dressed in a scrub top labeled "St. Anthony's", and she was filled with a profound sadness that twisted her stomach. Rising heavily from the bed, she reached for her pager. Nothing. She shuffled to the kitchen to check her answering machine - no new messages. With a heavy sigh, she dragged herself to her bathroom and turned on the shower. Waiting for the water to heat, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Eyes red-rimmed and puffy, face pale as death, hair mousy and tangled. She undressed wearily and stepped under the jet of steaming water.
After showering, she had to fight the overwhelming urge to just throw something on and dash out the door. But she couldn't bear the thought of her appearance making things harder for Robert. So she forced herself to take her time, to braid her hair and apply a few touches of make-up. Then she dressed quickly, and stepped into the shoes she'd discarded at her bedside the night before. Hurrying to the kitchen, she filled the dog dishes with food and water, grabbed her purse and keys, and bolted out the door.
Erin was crossing the lobby of St. Anthony's when her pager began to beep. Her heart leapt into her throat as she realized it was indeed from Robert's surgeon, and she raced past the elevators to the stairwell. She burst into his room moments later, not sure what she may find. Thankfully, it wasn't much. Robert still lay in the same position as when she'd left, seemingly still under sedation. A doctor stood at his bedside, dressed in surgical scrubs. He was very tall, and had striking green eyes. His head snapped up at Erin's dramatic appearance. "Dr. Windsor?"
"Yes," she nodded breathlessly.
"Wow, that was fast!"
"I was already in the lobby when I got your page." She hurried to Robert's side. "How is he?"
"Not bad, actually." The doctor's brow furrowed slightly. "I take it from your concern that you are not Dr. Romano's primary physician." Erin shook her head, still absorbed in inspecting Robert's face and arm. "Then why are you down as his primary contact?"
"I'm his girlfriend." She trailed off, realizing she had never said those words aloud before. Her face softened, and she stroked Romano's sleeping face. "I'm his girlfriend," she repeated. "And I'm also an ER attending at Cook County, so."
"Ah, I see. That's actually quite fortunate. Maybe you can be of more assistance than the other redhead who was here earlier."
"Other redhead?" Erin looked up, confused.
"Yes. She's also a doctor at County. Red hair, reading glasses, walks with a cane."
"Oh! Dr. Weaver!" Erin exclaimed. Now it was her turn to look confused. "Dr. Weaver was here?"
"Mm-hmm. About an hour ago."
"Oh. Well, what can I help you with that she couldn't?"
The doctor drew her attention to the fingers of Robert's left hand. "I'm quite concerned about the duskiness in these digits. I need to know if we should operate once more." He continued speaking, explaining the pros and cons of a second surgery, but Erin could barely hear him. She stood numbly waiting until his lips stopped moving. "You're a surgeon." She said matter-of-factly. "What would you want?"
The doctor pursed his lips for a moment. "I'd want the surgery."
"Then do it." She held out her hand for the chart. He gave it over, and she signed her name in the necessary spot.
"I'll arrange for his transport. It may be half an hour or so." Erin glanced at the metal frame chair sitting next to the bed. "Got anything more comfortable than that?" She asked. He nodded, saying he'd have an orderly round her up something else. He moved to exit the room, then turned back. "I'm Stephen Malcolm, by the way. I'm head of orthopedics here."
She smiled feebly. "Erin." The surgeon departed, closing the door behind him. Erin moved closer to Robert's right side, laying her hand on his shoulder. She noticed his lips, dry and cracked, and reached for her purse. She fumbled through until she found her lip balm. She dabbed some on her fingertip and spread it over the parched skin. His head lolled to the side a bit, and a low sound emerged from his throat. She could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes as she whispered his name. His eyes opened the tiniest crack. "Hey, gorgeous," the words were badly slurred but understandable.
"Hey, yourself," she smiled, a genuine smile, and leaned in to kiss him. He moved his mouth weakly against hers, and she felt his fingers twitching against her hand. She pulled back slowly, careful not to jostle him. She took the cup from the bedside table and placed the straw between his lips, and he took a few halting sips. Then he spoke again, a tad clearer this time. "Come here." The fingers of his right hand twitched again. Erin lowered the guardrail of the bed and sat down next to him, taking his hand in both of hers. He seemed to slip out of consciousness again, so she simply waited, allowing a few tears to slip silently down her cheeks. Eventually, the door swung open, and two men in crisp white uniforms walked through. "Transport?" She asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
Erin slid carefully off the bed and released Robert's limp hand. His eyes fluttered. "Erin." It came out sounding "urn", and her heart twisted at the sound. "I'm right here, Robert," she reassured him, bending so close her lips brushed his cheek as she spoke. She continued whispering to him, telling him she loved him, as one of the men injected a sedative into his IV line. A moment later, the same orderly spoke gently to her. "I'm afraid we have to take him, ma'am. Don't worry, he's already out."
"I know," she nodded. She stepped back and, once again, watched Robert being wheeled way. His gurney had barely cleared the door when a familiar face appeared. "Dr. Galloway?" The young resident smiled at her, and pulled a reclining chair into the room. "Swiped it from OB," he grinned. "Promise you won't tell?"
"My lips are sealed," she giggled a little. "Thank you so much." Draped over the back of the chair was her lab coat, and seeing it made her shudder a bit. Dr. Galloway noticed, and tried a comforting smile. "You look much better than the last time we met. Got some sleep?"
"More like passed out." Erin sighed. "Any idea how long they might be?"
"I would guess at least two or three hours." He noted her crestfallen expression "Hungry?"
"Huh?"
"When's the last time you ate anything?"
"Oh, God," she raised a hand to her forehead. "I don't even remember."
"Come on. Let me show you the cafeteria." He saw glance at the empty spot where the bed had been. "Don't worry, I'll have you back way before they're done." Relenting, Erin allowed him to lead her out of the room and downstairs.
The two ordered lunch, and sat at a table by the window. They made small talk while Erin picked morosely at her food. Galloway, eyed her curiously for a moment, then ducked his head to put his face in her line of sight. "He's going to be okay. You know that, don't you?" Erin nodded, running an exhausted hand over her face. She suddenly put down her fork and rose from the table. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm just not very good company right now. I really think I need to be alone." She began walking away, and the young man hurried after her.
"Dr. Windsor, don't just go up there and wait in that empty room."
He allowed his sentence to drift off, as he saw she wasn't even hearing him.
"Robert?" Her voice was timid.
Donald gave her a wry smile. "He's stabilized, and we were able to reattach," he explained. "I don't know exactly how much function he'll regain, but he's got the best chances anyone in his situation could have." Erin covered her face with her hands, sobbing with relief and heartache, and san back into her chair. Donald looked from her to Kovac, his face a mask of confusion. "Am I missing something?" He asked as Luka gently pulled him aside. "She seems quite upset."
"Apparently she and Dr. Romano are .involved." Luka explained in a murmur.
"Romantically?" Kovac nodded. "Well, bully for Robert," Donald commended heartily. He moved to sit next to Erin, laying a comforting hand on her knee. "Dr. Windsor, he's going to be just fine. We're making arrangements to have him moved, although, I'm not sure where yet. He's triggering the vent on his own, but I think it's best we wait until he's settled before we extubate."
She tried to smile at him, but her eyes were wet and full of anguish. "Can I see him please?"
Anspaugh nodded silently, taking her arm and helping her to her feet. Luka followed behind them as they walked into recovery. Erin made her way to Robert's right side and took his hand in hers. "I'm here," she whispered. "I'm here, and Donald says you're going to be fine." The monitor sounding out the beats of his heart continued it's uniform beeping. She leaned in closer. "I know you can hear me, Robert. I know you're in there somewhere." His finger twitched against her palm, probably just a reflex, but it was enough to calm her a bit. She looked up at Anspaugh. "Will they let me go with him?"
"I'll make sure of it." Donald moved closer to her. "He's very lucky to have you. He's got a long, hard road ahead of him, and he's going to need all the support he can get."
Erin nodded, and a tear fell from her cheek onto Robert's arm. She hastily wiped it away. Donald checked the monitor leads one last time, then turned to leave. "We'll give you a moment alone before we move him." He gestured for Luka to follow him. Erin held out her hand. He accepted it, gently squeezing her fingers. "Thank you," she said softly. Kovac dropped a small bow, and then slipped quietly from the room. Erin sank to her knees, resting her arms and chin on the cold metal of the guardrail.
"I know you've always fancied yourself the dashing surgeon," she whispered. "Well, let me tell you something, baby: you look much better standing over the table than laying on it. So, what's say we not try this again, okay?" She ran her hand over his smooth head before kissing him gently in the center, a gesture she knew he detested. "Sorry, sweetie, but if you don't like it, you'd better wake up and tell me to stop." This time she knew it was no mistake when his fingers tightened the smallest fraction around hers. "Okay, okay. That's good enough. For now."
The doors swung open, and Donald, Luka and two EMT's walked into the room. "Someone call for a cab to Saint Anthony's?"
"That would be us." Erin rose to her feet and helped wheel the gurney outside. The EMT's loaded it into the back of a waiting ambulance, and Erin hugged Luka tightly. "Thank you again." Then she turned to Donald. "Dr. Anspaugh."
"Now, you just go and see that he gets settled in. Oh, and make sure you warn the staff. I doubt Rocket will be in a pleasant mood when he wakes up." Erin actually found herself laughing, and leaned in to kiss the surgeon's cheek. "Thank you," she smiled warmly. Dr. Anspaugh took her hand and helped her into the rig, then he and Luka swung the doors shut.
As they made the drive to St. Anthony's, Robert's heart rate spiked from it's previously steady ninety-two up to one hundred eleven. "Is he having arrhythmia?" One of the paramedics asked, glancing at the monitor in concern. Erin could see sluggish movement beneath his eyelids and shook her head.
"Anesthetic's wearing off." She opened the drug box and surveyed its contents. She selected a vial and syringe. "Pushing ten of diazepam," she reported, inserting the needle into his IV line and pressing the plunger. After a few moments, Robert's heart rate dropped back to eighty-seven, and Erin sighed heavily. "What's our ETA?"
Moments later, the ambulance arrived at St. Anthony's patient receiving bay, and she lost herself in the bustle of the transport. She soon found herself alone at Robert's bedside with very little memory of how she got there. A young man in scrubs and a lab coat appeared in the doorway. "This is Robert Romano from Cook County General?" Erin nodded, and he crossed the room briskly. "I'm Tim Galloway, surgical resident. I spoke with a Dr. Anspaugh? About admission?" Erin was still nodding mechanically, so the young man pressed on. "Dr. Malcolm, our head of orthopedics, won't be in until tomorrow morning. But it's been a quiet night. I'm sure I'll be able to give Dr. Romano the attention he needs." Erin still stood, immobile, so he took her hand and shook it firmly. "And you are?"
"Windsor. Erin. I work at County as well."
"Well, then, Dr. Windsor, would you care to assist me in getting that tube out of your boss?"
She moved automatically through the extubation, and waited tensely after the tube was clear. After a few seconds, Robert's chest began to rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Erin breathed a shuddery sigh of relief, and her face seemed to clear. Dr. Galloway made a few notes on the chart, then took the opportunity to address her while she seemed to be more in focus. "We're going to order him up some new meds," he explained. "He'll probably be out for a day or two." Erin nodded again, not catching the meaning in the man's voice. "You should take advantage of that. Go home, get some rest." She opened her mouth to object, but he held up his hand to silence her. "Look, doctor, I know you want to be here when he wakes up, but that's not going to happen for quite a while. And when he does wake up, you'll want to be one hundred percent. He'll need you to be one hundred percent. You try and wait it out here, and you'll never make it. That won't do either of you any good."
Erin relented, suddenly remembering the lockdown, and realizing she was wearing the same clothes she'd dressed in almost forty hours before. She looked down and winced at her soiled lab coat. Dr. Galloway followed her gaze. "We can launder that for you here and have it ready tomorrow morning," he offered. She smiled gratefully and began to slide it off her shoulders. It was then that she caught sight of the front of her blouse, which was covered in blood. As it sank in that it was Robert's, she began to shake, pulling the stained material away from her skin. Dr. Galloway rushed from the room, returning a moment later with a fresh scrub top. Erin accepted it numbly. "Look, leave me your numbers, and I promise, I'll have you called or paged if there is any change." Clearly, uncomfortable, he left once more, pulling the door closed this time. It had barely latched before Erin was ripping the shirt from her body in horror. She realized he camisole was stained as well, and tore it off as well. Then she hurried to the sink and frantically washed her chest and stomach before dropping the scrub top over her head. She splashed cold water on her face, and forced herself to regain control.
She returned to Robert's side for a moment, listening to his breathing. Then she bent over and kissed his lips tenderly. "I'm going to go check on the girls," she whispered in a choked voice. "Maybe grab a shower. But I'll be back before you wake up. I promise." She kissed him once more, then lifted the metal clipboard from the foot of the bed. She jotted down her home number and pager number. Then, replacing the chart, she forced herself to exit the room, dumping her blood stained clothing in the biohazard bin on her way out.
She hailed a cab outside, and almost directed the female driver back to County before remembering that Robert had driven her to work the previous morning. It seemed like years had passed since they exchanged a secret goodbye in the parking garage before going separate ways. She closed her eyes and lay her head back against the vinyl seat. Arriving at home, she fished a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket. "I'm sorry it's such a lousy tip," she held it out to the cabbie. The woman regarded her thoughtfully, then brushed her hand away. "This one's on me, honey. Looks like you've paid enough today." Erin barely had time to thank her, and she was gone. It dawned on Erin that, since Robert had driven, her keys were locked inside the house. "Dammit," she muttered, plodding her way to the garage door. God smiled - it was unlocked.
As she stepped into the hallway, both dogs trotted over to greet her. "Hey girls, thank the Lord for doggie doors, huh?" As she made her way to the bedroom, Sophie ambled after her, but Gretel remained planted at the door. "Come on, girl," Erin called weakly. The dog turned her dark head and gave a plaintive whine. "I know," Erin commiserated. "I miss him, too. Come on." At long last, the animal relented and followed reluctantly. The three entered the bedroom together, and the dogs took their usual positions, one on one side of the bed, one draped across the foot. "Nobody's coming to kick you out tonight, either," Erin mused sadly, sitting down and stroking their soft fur. She caught sight of something on the floor, half under the bed. She pulled it out, and realized it was Robert's shirt, discarded a few nights before. She pressed it to her cheek, breathing in his scent. Then she lifted her pillow and slid it into the garment. Finally, she lay down, hugging it to her chest and burying her face in its cool softness. Fatigue and distress overcame her, and she was gone, not quite having passed out, not quite having fallen asleep.
She barely moved for fourteen hours, sleeping heavily and without dreaming. When she finally awoke, blinking swollen eyes in the daylight, she tried to convince herself that all the horror was just a nightmare, that none of it had really happened. But reality would not be denied; she was alone in the bed, she was dressed in a scrub top labeled "St. Anthony's", and she was filled with a profound sadness that twisted her stomach. Rising heavily from the bed, she reached for her pager. Nothing. She shuffled to the kitchen to check her answering machine - no new messages. With a heavy sigh, she dragged herself to her bathroom and turned on the shower. Waiting for the water to heat, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Eyes red-rimmed and puffy, face pale as death, hair mousy and tangled. She undressed wearily and stepped under the jet of steaming water.
After showering, she had to fight the overwhelming urge to just throw something on and dash out the door. But she couldn't bear the thought of her appearance making things harder for Robert. So she forced herself to take her time, to braid her hair and apply a few touches of make-up. Then she dressed quickly, and stepped into the shoes she'd discarded at her bedside the night before. Hurrying to the kitchen, she filled the dog dishes with food and water, grabbed her purse and keys, and bolted out the door.
Erin was crossing the lobby of St. Anthony's when her pager began to beep. Her heart leapt into her throat as she realized it was indeed from Robert's surgeon, and she raced past the elevators to the stairwell. She burst into his room moments later, not sure what she may find. Thankfully, it wasn't much. Robert still lay in the same position as when she'd left, seemingly still under sedation. A doctor stood at his bedside, dressed in surgical scrubs. He was very tall, and had striking green eyes. His head snapped up at Erin's dramatic appearance. "Dr. Windsor?"
"Yes," she nodded breathlessly.
"Wow, that was fast!"
"I was already in the lobby when I got your page." She hurried to Robert's side. "How is he?"
"Not bad, actually." The doctor's brow furrowed slightly. "I take it from your concern that you are not Dr. Romano's primary physician." Erin shook her head, still absorbed in inspecting Robert's face and arm. "Then why are you down as his primary contact?"
"I'm his girlfriend." She trailed off, realizing she had never said those words aloud before. Her face softened, and she stroked Romano's sleeping face. "I'm his girlfriend," she repeated. "And I'm also an ER attending at Cook County, so."
"Ah, I see. That's actually quite fortunate. Maybe you can be of more assistance than the other redhead who was here earlier."
"Other redhead?" Erin looked up, confused.
"Yes. She's also a doctor at County. Red hair, reading glasses, walks with a cane."
"Oh! Dr. Weaver!" Erin exclaimed. Now it was her turn to look confused. "Dr. Weaver was here?"
"Mm-hmm. About an hour ago."
"Oh. Well, what can I help you with that she couldn't?"
The doctor drew her attention to the fingers of Robert's left hand. "I'm quite concerned about the duskiness in these digits. I need to know if we should operate once more." He continued speaking, explaining the pros and cons of a second surgery, but Erin could barely hear him. She stood numbly waiting until his lips stopped moving. "You're a surgeon." She said matter-of-factly. "What would you want?"
The doctor pursed his lips for a moment. "I'd want the surgery."
"Then do it." She held out her hand for the chart. He gave it over, and she signed her name in the necessary spot.
"I'll arrange for his transport. It may be half an hour or so." Erin glanced at the metal frame chair sitting next to the bed. "Got anything more comfortable than that?" She asked. He nodded, saying he'd have an orderly round her up something else. He moved to exit the room, then turned back. "I'm Stephen Malcolm, by the way. I'm head of orthopedics here."
She smiled feebly. "Erin." The surgeon departed, closing the door behind him. Erin moved closer to Robert's right side, laying her hand on his shoulder. She noticed his lips, dry and cracked, and reached for her purse. She fumbled through until she found her lip balm. She dabbed some on her fingertip and spread it over the parched skin. His head lolled to the side a bit, and a low sound emerged from his throat. She could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes as she whispered his name. His eyes opened the tiniest crack. "Hey, gorgeous," the words were badly slurred but understandable.
"Hey, yourself," she smiled, a genuine smile, and leaned in to kiss him. He moved his mouth weakly against hers, and she felt his fingers twitching against her hand. She pulled back slowly, careful not to jostle him. She took the cup from the bedside table and placed the straw between his lips, and he took a few halting sips. Then he spoke again, a tad clearer this time. "Come here." The fingers of his right hand twitched again. Erin lowered the guardrail of the bed and sat down next to him, taking his hand in both of hers. He seemed to slip out of consciousness again, so she simply waited, allowing a few tears to slip silently down her cheeks. Eventually, the door swung open, and two men in crisp white uniforms walked through. "Transport?" She asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
Erin slid carefully off the bed and released Robert's limp hand. His eyes fluttered. "Erin." It came out sounding "urn", and her heart twisted at the sound. "I'm right here, Robert," she reassured him, bending so close her lips brushed his cheek as she spoke. She continued whispering to him, telling him she loved him, as one of the men injected a sedative into his IV line. A moment later, the same orderly spoke gently to her. "I'm afraid we have to take him, ma'am. Don't worry, he's already out."
"I know," she nodded. She stepped back and, once again, watched Robert being wheeled way. His gurney had barely cleared the door when a familiar face appeared. "Dr. Galloway?" The young resident smiled at her, and pulled a reclining chair into the room. "Swiped it from OB," he grinned. "Promise you won't tell?"
"My lips are sealed," she giggled a little. "Thank you so much." Draped over the back of the chair was her lab coat, and seeing it made her shudder a bit. Dr. Galloway noticed, and tried a comforting smile. "You look much better than the last time we met. Got some sleep?"
"More like passed out." Erin sighed. "Any idea how long they might be?"
"I would guess at least two or three hours." He noted her crestfallen expression "Hungry?"
"Huh?"
"When's the last time you ate anything?"
"Oh, God," she raised a hand to her forehead. "I don't even remember."
"Come on. Let me show you the cafeteria." He saw glance at the empty spot where the bed had been. "Don't worry, I'll have you back way before they're done." Relenting, Erin allowed him to lead her out of the room and downstairs.
The two ordered lunch, and sat at a table by the window. They made small talk while Erin picked morosely at her food. Galloway, eyed her curiously for a moment, then ducked his head to put his face in her line of sight. "He's going to be okay. You know that, don't you?" Erin nodded, running an exhausted hand over her face. She suddenly put down her fork and rose from the table. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm just not very good company right now. I really think I need to be alone." She began walking away, and the young man hurried after her.
"Dr. Windsor, don't just go up there and wait in that empty room."
He allowed his sentence to drift off, as he saw she wasn't even hearing him.