The Attending MD quickly studied the readout on the monitor and shook his head slightly. "92.2 at 48 beats a minute, not the worst I've ever seen but he could easily go either way especially with the amount of time the man has gone without medical attention."
The head injury made matters even worse. He shook his head again. They needed to move quickly.
"Get that neurosurgeon in here now!" he barked at an intern. The one possibly good thing about the hypothermia was the fact that it might have provided a degree of protection for his brain if there was an intercranial hemorrhage going on. As soon as he was warmed up, though, that protection would be lost. He removed the ET tube and placed a nasal cannala with warmed oxygen as the neurosurgeon came rushing in.
"Marshal? Marshal Gerard! Can you hear me?" the MD spoke loudly next to his patient's ear, hoping for a break. Surprisingly, there was a soft groan, and the man's head moved slightly as he tried to respond.
"What have we got?" the woman asked as she hurried to Sam's side, gently prying open one eyelid and then the other, flashing a small light to check his pupils. With how the staff was all talking about this case in the hall as she came through, she couldn't wait to hear what was going on.
"Basically, we've got the disaster to end all disasters here. US Marshal Sam Gerard, temporal impact with a blunt object approximately two and a half hours ago resulting in a fall into Lake Michigan. He got pulled out in under three minutes and was reported conscious for a brief time at the scene but then lost consciousness again shortly before EMS arrived." The neurosurgeon frowned as she listened. If the man had been injured two and a half hours ago, why were they just now calling for a neuro consult? Didn't they know how critical time was with a head injury?
Before she could say anything, the attending continued. "Somehow, when he got here, he got sent to the morgue instead of getting proper treatment. Nurse Owens here," he gestured to the dedicated blonde nurse, who blushed slightly, to the doctor's puzzlement, "just found him a couple of minutes ago in the hallway, of all places, outside the morgue, checked his vitals , and called us in immediately."
"Damn," murmured the neurosurgeon. "we have our hands full."
"We do," agreed the doctor, both knowing exactly what the delay in treat ment could mean for Sam's chances.
"All right, let's get him stabilized and get him down to radiology for a CT scan STAT," the neurosurgeon decided. "We have to find out what's going on in there. Has anyone contacted next of kin?"
"I called the person listed. She's on her way. What's his prognosis?" Nurse Owens asked softly. The neurosurgeon frowned.
It doesn't look good," was all she said.
