DISCLAIMER: I oWn NoThInG!!! Well, I own Grace, but I'm just borrowing the others for the sake of the story.
Up after another long wait, here's chapter 17. It's not as long as some of the others, but it'll do for now. I tried to incorporate more humor into this one, and there's also some more medical stuff too. A twist at the end. What is it? Read to find out!
SAVING GRACE- CHAPTER 17
Two days and a dozen telephone calls later, Carter was back to working the graveyard shift at County General's ER.
It had been a long two days for him; the first time in two weeks that he hadn't talked to Grace for a day. One day turned into two, and by the sunset of that second day, when he had awoken to get to the ER for the night shift, Carter realized that getting custody of and adopting his daughter would be harder and take longer than he had originally thought. Numerous phone calls had been made, to Gamma and to Ralph Conway, the family attorney, mostly. The two of them in tandem were working at the issue, though they had refused Carter's desire to help out himself.
"She's my daughter, and I want to help get her back here!" he had exclaimed during a visit to the Carter family mansion for an afternoon luncheon with his grandmother.
"And I don't want you to worry, John," Gamma had replied. "We will take care of everything, and Grace will be back sooner than you think." As Gamma took another sip of her iced tea, Carter knew that her decision had been made, and was irreversible.
Conway had been invaluable, though. The day after Grace left, he had sat down with him at a local coffeehouse. There they discussed plans, and Conway had done a preliminary outline of the papers that Carter would need to get his daughter back. Conway promised to contact him ASAP to sign papers and fax them to SCCS for consideration. He had signed the papers the very next day at his grandmother's house.
So as he spun the combination to his locker at work, all he could do was wait for news, for something that he could do himself to help in any way that he could find.
But for now, it was back to work in the ER, he thought as he slid on his white coat and slammed the door of his locker shut. The metal clanged, so much so that Carter didn't hear the door to the lounge open, and therefore was surprised to find that, when he turned around, he wasn't alone.
"Hey Carter," Chuny greeted him, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "You working the graveyard shift too?" She was smirking at him slightly, with the expression of someone who was trying hard not to laugh.
"Yes," Carter answered slowly. Chuny continued to hold her expression. He couldn't stand it. "What, Chuny?"
Chuny tried hard to erase the smirk from her face; she attempted to look innocent. She failed miserably.
"Oh, nothing," she lied, turning toward the counter away from him, Carter suspected, to hide her smirk.
"What, Chuny?" he repeated, slightly louder and more slowly, in the tone that one might use to speak to a slightly deaf person. She turned around, still smirking slightly. She shrugged playfully.
"I told you so," she said, laughing softly, obviously trying to keep her laughter inside. This caused her hands to shake so much that some of her coffee began to slosh over the sides of the mug. She saw that he didn't understand and rolled her eyes.
"What?" he asked.
"Exam six, I told you so."
"Oh," he said, understanding what she had meant. He cleared his throat, but couldn't think of an adequate response. "Oh," he said again, aware that he sounded like an idiot.
"Yeah," Chuny said in an omniscient sort of voice, finishing the dregs of her coffee and setting the cup into the sink. Carter fought the sudden urge to roll his eyes. Not sure what exactly he was supposed to say to that, he turned away and walked out of the lounge. He could almost feel Chuny still smirking behind him, but chose to ignore her for the time being.
"Any interesting cases for me tonight, Frank?" he asked the desk clerk. Carter raised his eyebrow while Frank finished chewing the bite of donut in his mouth. He shrugged.
"How should I know?"
"Okay, then," Carter swept past him toward where the charts were. Glancing to the side to see that Weaver wasn't around, he sifted through the series of clipboards, finally extracting one.
"What've you got there, Carter?" Susan appeared at his shoulder, peering down at the chart that he held in his hands.
"Thought I'd start off the graveyard shift with a nice, easy case of the croup, seeing as there really aren't any interesting cases in there."
"You've been chart-picking again, Carter. Tsk tsk tsk," she scolded him playfully. He smiled.
"Who, me? Never."
"Right. That's okay, I won't Weaver on you," Susan said as she erased a name from the board with her hand. Carter snorted quietly under his breath and put his patient up on the board. He stepped over into chairs, where the usual evening crowd sat and waited for medical attention.
"Kelly Chase," he said loudly over the murmuring crowd, reading the name off of the chart. A Black man stood up, hoisting his seven-year-old daughter onto his hip and following Carter as he led them into an exam room.
The night shift went as night shifts typically do, with its fair share of drunks dropped off in the ER for no particular reason. For once, there were no MVAs or bad traumas to deal with, so it was a relatively relaxing night.
Around four in the morning, the waiting room was quiet, and the ER staff was hanging out by the Admitting desk. Carter sat in an office chair near the radio and fiddled with a sharpened pencil absentmindedly.
"I feel deaf," Susan said suddenly from her stool at the counter. Carter looked up.
"What?" he asked.
"I feel like I've gone deaf, it's so quiet here."
"Yeah, it's great, isn't it?" Chuny put in from the seat next to Susan.
"The last of the drunks is in Curtain 2 with a banana bag," Haleh said from a chair at the desk across from Carter. "Even if he's babbling, we can't hear him."
"Amen," said Malik. He sat in a wheelchair, practicing balancing the chair on the two back wheels.
"Well I don't like it," Susan said. "It's too abnormal. Carter, would you put the radio on?" Carter nodded, setting down the pencil.
"No problem." He flipped on the FM radio and turned up the volume moderately. An older song played, something from the 50's or some other era that Carter didn't recognize. "Better?"
"Thanks," Susan nodded. Chuny turned her head suddenly toward the doors to the ambulance bay, ponytail swinging slightly as she did. She turned back to them.
"We should do something," she said, looking around at them.
"Like what?" Malik asked her. His concentration seemed to have lapsed, and the wheelchair went over backwards, Malik toppling out of it and the chair crashing onto the floor. There was a chorus of hearty laughter from those present as Malik pushed himself up off of the floor. He picked the wheelchair back up and sat in it, this time refraining from the acrobatics.
"We should play a game," Chuny said after the laughter had subsided.
"A game," Carter said blankly. What did she have in mind, charades?
"What sort of game?" Susan asked her, folding her hands in her lap.
"I dunno." There was a silence. Everyone seemed to be thinking.
"I know," said Malik, rolling the wheelchair closer to them. "This is a game we played once as an icebreaker in nursing school--"
"No!" Susan groaned. "I hate icebreakers!"
I'm with you," Carter told Susan. "Those things are so dumb, I had way too many of them in my life."
"Dude, hear me out," Malik said. "This is a fun one, I promise. All you have to do is think of a catch phrase. Any one. Like...okay, mine is gonna be the Mickey D's one, 'I'm lovin' it.'" Everyone looked at him as if he had spinach in his teeth. "Oh, come on, it gets better. Just think of one, and remember it." They sat for a moment, trying to think.
"I think I've got one," Haleh said.
"Spit it out."
"How about that old Pringles commercial, 'Once you pop, the fun don't stop?" Malik snorted.
"That's a good one. How about you, Chuny?"
"I'm gonna use that Skittles one, 'Taste the rainbow.' You next, Carter."
"Okay," Carter said, "Mine's going to be the Chevy one, 'Like a rock,' because I'm drawing a blank here." They all turned to look at Susan, who had a small crease in her forehead from trying to come up with something.
"Susan?"
"Alright, alright," she said, slightly frustrated. "'Good to the last drop,' Maxwell House Coffee or some coffee thing." By this time, Malik was struggling to keep from rolling on the ground in laughter.
"Okay," he said, calming slightly. "Now is the fun part. We are going to go around the circle now, starting with Chuny, and you are going to repeat the commercial catchphrase that you chose. Only this time, you are going to add in the phrase 'In my pants' at the end." Carter laughed and shook his head in disbelief. Susan groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Mine, for example, is I'm lovin' it in my pants." They all laughed, somewhat shocked at how dirty an icebreaker could be.
"Okay," Chuny said. "I'm starting then? Here goes: Taste the rainbow in my pants." There was a lot of jovial laughter, and it was Carter's turn.
"Like a rock in my pants," he said, cracking a smile while everyone else roared with laughter.
"Geez, Carter," Chuny remarked, grinning. She turned to Haleh. "Haleh?"
"Once you pop, the fun don't stop iin my pants." There was a peal of laughter, and Chuny actually had to wipe a tear out of her eye because she laughed so hard.
"Whoa, slow down there Haleh," Malik choked out, convulsing with laughter.
Susan, meanwhile, had her hands over her face again.
"Your turn, Susan."
"No way!"
"You have to, we all did." She removed her hands and put them in her lap.
"Okay, okay," she began. "Good to the last drop in my pants." Even she had to laugh at this one.
Malik actually lost his balance and toppled out of the wheelchair a second time, clutching his stomach, because he was laughing so hard. Carter bent over and put his hands on his knees, and a constant river of tears was streaming down Chuny's face. Carter handed her a tissue.
"Thanks, Carter," she choked out, wiping her eyes. "Oh, man, that was great."
"See, icebreakers can be fun!"
Morning dawned cool and fresh as the sun cast its first rays of light onto the lake as Carter watched from the roof of the hospital, clutching a cup of coffee in his hand. Eight o'clock came and went, and he was soon packing up and getting ready to leave County. He slung the bag over his shoulder and started to head out of the double doors. As he started out, he was nearly flattened by two paramedics as they rolled a gurney into the hospital.
"What've we got?" Carter asked urgently, immediately throwing his things behind the Admitting desk and hurrying alongside the gurney.
"26-year-old male, collapsed in the park after his morning jog, SOB and pleuritic chest pain. We gave him O2 in the rig, BP's 84/54, resps 28," the paramedic fired as they wheeled the man into Trauma 2. Carter immediately snapped on a pair of gloves.
"What's your name, sir?" he asked the conscious man.
"Robert Nevins," he replied, with labored breaths. Carter whipped out his stethoscope and pressed it to the man's chest.
"Could you take a couple of breaths for me?" Mr. Nevins did so, and Carter listened.
"I'm not getting breath sounds on the left," he said. "I need a chest x- ray, CBC, lytes, and a blood gas. Start a large-bore IV of saline, wide open, and spin a crit."
"Pulse 110, temp 98.4," Haleh said, recording the findings on the patient chart in her hands. Carter nodded. A portable x-ray arrived with a technician and shot the films quickly.
"Good, both normal," he moved over closer to the patient. "Mr. Nevins, I need to listen to your lungs through the back. Can you sit up?" The tall man nodded, and Yosh helped him to sit up and lean over. Carter rested his stethoscope on the left side of the man's back and tapped on his skin.
"What is it?"
"Hyperresonance on percussion, left hemithorax," Carter said. "We need to intubate, get me a number 8 French, 3 of etomidate, 120 of sux," he said, preparing for the intubation.
"What is it, Doc?" Mr. Nevins gasped from the bed. Carter took the ET tube and applicator from Yosh.
"Mr. Nevins, I believe that you have a condition called tension pneumothorax, which is where an air leak in your lung has caused it to collapse. I'm going to give you some medicine to put you to sleep, and when you wake up there will be a tube in your throat helping you breathe. You won't be able to talk." The man's eyes closed at the effect of the drugs and Carter intubated without a problem.
"Chest films are back." Carter took them and held it up to the light.
"Tracheal, mediastinal shifts to the right, diaphragm low and flattened, it's a tension pneumo alright," he said, handing the x-ray back to a nurse and continuing with the patient.
"Carter," Haleh said, "PO2 is low, pulse ox falling."
"We need a chest tube, get me a tray, Yosh," he said, hurriedly getting into a trauma gown and back to the patient, where the tray was waiting. He poured betadine on the chest to sterilize, and inserted a guide wire. "Third intercostal space at the midclavicular line..." he muttered to himself. "And I'm in."
"Nice one, Carter," Yosh said as Mr. Nevins' pulse ox began to rise. Carter nodded.
"Haleh, call ICU and get this guy admitted, he's gonna need to stay for a couple of days," He said, pulling off his gloves and gown and getting out of the trauma room. He smiled to himself, savoring the victory.
"Carter," Haleh shouted from down the hall. "You forgot to sign off on the tension pneumo guy." Carter groaned and headed down into Trauma 2. He rounded the corner and Haleh shoved the chart into his hands. Carter scribbled something that may have looked like his name on the chart and tucked the pen back into his pocket.
"Thanks, Haleh," he said over his shoulder. He wandered back to the Admit desk and retrieved his things, preparing to go out the door when another voice made him turn back.
"Dr. Carter, I have a call for you on line 1," Jerry told him, holding his hand over the receiver. Carter groaned.
"I'm off, Jerry, I was off an hour ago."
"It's some lawyer, Conway, says he knows you." Carter adjusted his bag on his shoulder and nodded, turning back into the Admit area.
"Thanks, Jerry, I'll take it in the lounge," he said, heading into the lounge and dumping his things onto a nearby couch and grabbing the phone off of its base on the wall.
"John Carter," he said into the receiver.
"Dr. Carter, Ralph Conway," came the voice on the other end of the line.
"You wanted to speak to me?"
"Yes," came the answer. "Sorry I had to call you at work, but I couldn't reach you at home.
"No problem, what's up?" he asked. Hopefully the news he had to share was good news.
"We've run into a bit of a speed bump." Carter's face fell.
"What? What is it?" He heard a very small sigh at the other end of the line.
"I got a fax from Summit County Child Services last night, just got it into my hands a couple of minutes ago," he explained. He seemed to be dancing around the issue, and Carter didn't like it at all.
"And...?" Carter asked. There was a short pause.
"Something came up while they were running a background check on you."
"What?" Carter wracked his brain quickly. What was it that could have come up to slow the adoption process? Surely, it could be his job, or his single marital status, but that wouldn't really be something to see in a background check.
"John, why didn't you say anything about your drug addiction?" Carter's mouth dropped open slightly, aghast. He had forgotten about that, figuring that since it was years ago, and he had gotten help, it wouldn't have factored into the ordeal anyway.
He thought wrong.
"I-it slipped my mind," he answered honestly, rubbing his forehead. There was a very pregnant pause. Carter's thought were whirling inside of his mind. What would he do? Would they still let him adopt Grace? He had been clean for four years, would that count for anything?
He had so many questions and things to say that he was speechless.
"Will it affect the adoption process?" he asked, trying as hard as he could to keep the worry out of his voice. He heard a groan from the other end of the line.
"Yes, it will, I'm afraid. The SCCS office faxed me over the inquiry this morning. They found the drug addiction in your record, and therefore they can't let you adopt Grace as soon as you wanted."
"But I can still get her, right?"
"I don't know," said the lawyer in his gruff voice. "We should be able to work something out, but there is a very good chance that it will take much longer than we expected."
Carter was listening, but the words seemed to be echoing inside of his head. He might not be able to get his daughter back after all. How was Grace going to react to this, after he had promised her that she could come back to him?
His thoughts were interrupted momentarily when the door creaked open and Kerry came into the room. She caught sight of him on the phone and turned her head, heading to the coffee pot. Carter turned his attention back to the telephone conversation.
"How-how much longer?" Carter asked uncertainly.
"I'm not entirely sure, but it could be months, and there will probably be a hearing involved, and an investigation..." he trailed off. Carter groaned.
"An investigation of what?" he asked, sounding both worried and surprised.
"The addiction itself, the actions you performed under the effects, the length, your stay at the rehab center, the list could go on." Carter sank into the nearest chair, massaging his forehead. This was going to be a lot worse than he had ever thought. "The SCCS will probably send a couple of reps over to the hospital where you work, and interview some of your co- workers, especially those above you administratively."
"Interview?" Carter asked blankly.
He was now painfully aware that Kerry was staring at him. He turned his back to her, listening to Conway's answer.
"Asking some basic questions concerning your health, ability to handle and care for a child, that sort of thing. Those people, of course, who knew you at the time that you were addicted to narcotics will be asked about the circumstances surrounding the addiction."
"I know the circumstances!" Carter exclaimed, perhaps louder than was necessary. He felt an anger building up in his chest, putting pressure on him from the inside. "I was stabbed, for God's sake! Are they even going to care about that?"
He no longer cared that Kerry was in the room, listening to his every word.
"There is a chance that they won't. These people usually aren't incredibly sympathetic to circumstances."
"Damn it!?" he cursed under his breath. "So what do I do?"
"All that you can do now," Conway began, "is wait. I'm going to make some phone calls and see what I can come up with. There has got to be a way to handle this, and I'm going to find it if I can."
"Great," Carter said dully, depressed again by the whole situation.
"I'll let you know as soon as something happens."
"Thanks," He said, hanging up. He sat back down, exhaling deeply, putting his head in his hands.
Not needing to look up, he heard the sound of metal hitting the ground as Kerry came over and took a seat in the chair facing him, setting her coffee down onto an end table.
"Carter, are you okay?" she asked in a surprisingly gentle voice. "I couldn't help overhearing-" Carter snorted at this, "-part of your conversation. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"
"No, but you're going to find out eventually, just like everyone else," he sighed. He looked up at Kerry, who's eyebrows were raised. "They--the Summit County Children's Services office--ran a background check on me-"
"This is the group of people who has custody of Grace, correct?"
"Yes," he continued. "Anyway, my--my addiction came up in the search." Kerry's face showed a shadow of concern at these words.
"Is it going to affect the adoption process?" Carter nodded.
"They're going to need to delay it a lot. Representatives are going to be sent here, as far as I know. They're probably going to swarm over the place, asking people questions about me, my attitude, mental stability, all of that." He took a breath and continued. "There's going to be a full hearing, according to the family lawyer. I might have to make an appearance over in Ohio at the office. It's going to be a lot more than I thought, than anybody thought."
He now knew that he saw a full-fledged look of pity in Kerry's face.
"I'm sorry, Carter," she said. "I'll do everything I can to help you, okay?"
"Thanks, Kerry," he nodded. She nodded with him.
"Okay," she said. She suddenly glanced at her watch. "Go home, Carter. You were off an hour ago."
"Thanks again," he said, rising and collecting his things, reoriented. Kerry turned and emptied the half-cup of coffee that was left in the mug into the sink. She turned to leave the lounge, hand on the door, when Carter caught up with her. "Kerry, could you do me a favor?" She raised her eyebrows again.
"Sure, Carter, what?"
"Could you try to keep this between us for now?"
"Of course. Anything that you tell me is confidential." Carter gave her a small smile.
"Thanks Kerry." She smiled at him.
"You know," she said, hand still on the door. "It's a good thing you moved out of my basement apartment."
Carter couldn't help but laugh as she left the room and headed for the board. He lingered for a moment, turned and left the room, heading out the door.
So there it is, that's all for chapter 17. Chapter 18 coming within the week, hopefully. I tried not to leave you all with too much of a cliffie, though.
Reader shout-outs:
MeliGurlJo- Thank you again for your feedback for the last 17 chapters! You totally rock!
psalm 51- I really appreciate your reviews as well. I can't believe that you are such a loyal reviewer, and I love having your input cuz you're so honest. Thanks!
Lily- I'll try not to. Believe me, I am almost as eager to get them together as you are!
Shadow Spade- Thanks! Sorry bout the wait, but I hope it was worth it.
Starlight125- Wow! That must have taken you a loooong time, you must be an avid reader! Thanks a bunch, keep on reading! Again, all feedback is greatly appreciated, no comment will go ignored. If you want to, you can even e-mail me, my address is my penname at , so you have no excuse not to contact me (lol)
Thanks a bunch!
Snapdragon247