- - -
And right then, he shifted again. Sideways again.
And then the river swept him along.
Away from her.
He caught a glimpse of the horrified look on her face and then he was dragged under.
- - -
- - -
Ch 40: SEVERITY
- - -
Sometime it stopped.
He didn't know when.
And he couldn't remember why.
But it stopped.
All was quiet.
The roar and tumble of the water was gone.
He was face down in a patch of mud.
And he was quite content to lie there.
Mud had never felt so good.
Quiet, unmoving mud.
Flat. And soft.
A perfect place for a nap.
And that's how she found him.
Face down in the mud.
Just out of the reach of the roiling waters.
When he'd been snatched off that rock upstream, she'd followed as fast as she could through the undergrowth that followed the winding banks of the river.
Now, she quickly moved to his side. The river's edge was very gently sloping here and they wouldn't have to worry about another slide into the water.
"Jack!" she called out as she reached him.
He didn't move.
"Jack!" she tried again as she felt his neck for a pulse. He was cold, clammy and covered with the slippery mud. But he had a pulse... a bit slow, but it was there. He was also breathing... slow, shallow breaths, but he was breathing. Relief washed over her.
Bu then she sucked in a breath when she took in the unnatural angle of his legs and hips. Something was broken. Probably more than one something. A quick visual once-over revealed asundry scrapes and bruises, but no obvious signs of major bleeding.
Carefully she started checking for less obvious injuries. She started at his head and worked down... checking carefully and gently for injuries of any kind.
He had a small knot on his forehead.
Collarbone and shoulder blades appeared OK.
Neither arm was broken, but the right one was obviously dislocated.
She didn't try to set it yet, she continued the overall assessment first.
She couldn't find any other obvious injuries from his waist up, but she couldn't check the front of his ribcage because he was lying on his stomach.
She stopped at his waist and surveyed the angle of his legs again.
Broken. Both of them.
And maybe something in the hip and/or pelvis region as well.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
There was no way that they were kitted out to deal with the severity of his injuries.They needed a hospital, doctors... and probably surgeons.
She opened her eyes again and took a deep breath.
First things first.
She needed to prevent shock. Get him warm and dry.
Set the shoulder.
Splint the broken bones.
And somehow get him back to camp.
She looked up at the sky with an experienced eye. More rain was likely. And it could start anytime. She wouldn't be able to deal with his injuries on this muddy riverbank if another deluge started. She needed to get him back to camp.
First things first.
- - - -
She sprinted back to camp and packed a rucksack with the medkit, two sleeping bags, some extra clothes, some straps and some of their homemade rope. Next, she located the bundle of aluminum poles and canvas that would make the lightweight stretcher that had been packed in with the supplies for the Safe Planet (P5X-846). Finally, she quickly knocked down the second tent (the one that they didn't sleep in, but just stored supplies in), and scavenged the tent poles for use as splints.
- - - -
Only twenty-five minutes passed between her departure and her return.
He hadn't woken up.
She stared at his mangled form.
Steeling herself for what had to happen next, she gently slipped four of the straps under his feet and then slid them slowly up and under him, so that they were positioned at roughly 6-10 inches apart and laying flat on the ground. The slippery mud assisted her movements so that the straps slid fairly easily and did not jostle his broken bones. Repeating her actions, she slipped four more of the straps under his head and then slid the straps into position at intervals under his torso.
Next, she gently packed clothing around and between his legs, very careful to not move or jostle him any more than necessary. After that, she did the same for his dislocated shoulder; packing clothing in and around the damaged arm.
After double-checking everything, she lay one of the sleeping bags over his back and then carefully anchored it in place with half of the straps that she'd slid under his body. Those straps now wrapped under and then around him and held the sleeping bag and other 'packing material' in place.
Finally, she lay the stretcher on top of the sleeping bag and used the remaining straps to anchor it in place. With one final strap across his forehead, she secured his head in place and to the stretcher. The stretcher now served as a makeshift backboard, and she held his body as motionless as possible as she rotated him over onto his back.
With the sleeping bag and stretcher now under him, she gently lay the second sleeping bag over him for warmth and then secured it with some lengths of their homemade rope. After again double-checking everything, and ensuring that he would not slide off, she picked up the front end of the one-man stretcher and began dragging her charge back towards their clearing.
She moved slowly and took great pains to minimize all movements that might jar or jostle him. She set a course straight to one of the paths that they'd worn along the river while hunting game. Once on their path, progress was a bit easier.
Seventy-five minutes later and she finally arrived at camp with the stretcher-cum-travois in her wake. He had groaned a few times along the way, but hadn't woken.
She had barely placed him under the shelter when the rain started again. And it was another downpour. Sighing with relief that she'd gotten him back to camp before the rain, she turned her attention to unstrapping the ropes holding him to the stretcher and the top sleeping bag. Once she had him uncovered, she checked him over carefully for additional injuries. Unlike their accidental excursion in Antarctica, he couldn't hide his broken ribs from her this time.
She sat back.
Assorted bruises and abrasions.
A small knot on the temple.
Several broken ribs.
A dislocated shoulder.
Two broken legs.
And something was broken on the right side of his hip.
She couldn't tell how many pieces were involved.
At least nothing was bleeding profusely.
Externally, that is. She couldn't assess internal injuries.
She considered whether to take his wet clothes off first or to try and deal with some of his injuries. Frankly, she couldn't think of how she was going to get his clothes off without causing more injury... and lots of pain. If they were in a hospital, they would just cut his clothes off, but here they didn't have the luxury of too many extra sets of clothes, so she hesitated... in search of alternative solutions.
Finally, she decided to reset his dislocated shoulder first. Doing it while he was unconscious would spare him the fore-knowledge of the pain... and then she could at least save his shirt and jacket.
She felt around his shoulder gently while analyzing and planning the necessary movements. When she was ready, she situated herself with some leverage, gritted her teeth, "Sorry about this, Jack," and she quickly pulled -hard- and then slipped the arm back into its socket.
He groaned and mumbled something.
She stopped and watched his face carefully.
He groaned again and then his eyelids fluttered.
"Jack?" she asked softly.
"Owww," he muttered in a half-growl, half-groan.
"Yeah, sorry about that," she returned empathetically.
"Cold," he managed and squinted his eyes.
"We should be able to do something about that soon," and she gave him a small smile.
"What happened?" he asked as his eyes found hers.
"You went for a swim," she replied dryly.
"Swimming usually doesn't hurt so much," he objected.
"Not usually," she agreed sympathetically while watching his eyes and assessing his current mental acuity.
"How bad is it?" he asked soberly.
"Not good," she admitted and then continued, "You've got a bump on the head, a dislocated shoulder, some broken ribs...," and her voice trailed off for a moment before continuing, "and some broken bones in your legs and hip," she finished softly.
He didn't reply immediately, but then, "That would explain why it hurts," he understated. But he was looking at her seriously. At least that was one thing, she thought. He didn't appear to have a concussion. She was afraid to give him any strong painkillers until they knew for sure, however.
She met his eyes and nodded. Not looking forward to what she had to do next. Because splinting his legs ... was going to cause him more pain. Much, much more pain. In many ways she would have preferred it if he'd stayed unconscious for awhile longer.
"How about we get some of these wet clothes off before we work on the legs?" she suggested and he just nodded. With what little assistance he could provide, she got his wet jacket and shirt off and then replaced them with dry ones.
He lay back afterwards, with his eyes closed. The pain was obvious - the movements having caused aggravation and pain with both his broken ribs and sore shoulder.
The wet pants, unfortunately, she had to cut off. There was no way to pull them off with his broken legs and hip. Even after she'd cut the pants (and underwear) apart however, he was still lying on them. She wouldn't be able to get them out from under him until after she'd splinted his legs. She quickly covered his pelvic region with a dry pair of shorts before he could protest about his exposure. For added warmth, she pulled the sleeping bag over his torso and pelvic regions, while leaving his legs exposed so that she could work on the splints.
Next, she paused. His legs needed to be splinted, but she would probably cause more damage to his injured or shattered hip while splinting his legs. Despair washed over her at the extent of his injuries. Severe injuries that would take months of healing and months of physical therapy – and that was if they were back on Earth with its medical personnel and technology. Here... what could they do? What were his chances with their survival medkit and first aid knowledge? Tears threatened and she struggled to contain her emotions.
She pulled in a shaky breath and let it out slowly as she tried to force herself to focus on the next immediate task, to leave the worry of the days and weeks ahead... for the days and weeks ahead. And then... she thought of something... and hope bloomed in her chest. If that could work... even a little... then he might have a chance, a real chance, of recovering from these injuries even though they were stranded here light years from any medical professionals or technology.
She glanced up at his face, "Jack, I'm going to try and see if I can...," and she groped for words.
"What?" he prompted.
She looked away for a moment and then back again and then replied, "I'm going to try and see if I can... heal some of this... like the night when you had the fever."
"No," he sent back firmly.
"It might not work, but-," she started.
"No!" he repeated.
"Jack, we have to try. I can't splint your legs or even move you around much right now without possibly making things worse. And we need to get you dry and warm – real soon," she explained carefully.
"No!" and then he continued before she could, "Sam last time you were out of it for two days. This time my injuries are worse – it might kill you. I'm not willing to take that chance!"
"Well I am," she replied softly.
"Sam, I won't let you trade your life for mine," he returned emphatically.
"Jack, I don't think we're going to make it if we don't try this," she stated slowly and with a serious expression. "If you have internal bleeding, we can't stop it. Even if you don't, you'll be laid up for months with two broken legs and a broken hip. And if any of the bones don't set right, then you might not be able to ever walk without constant pain – if you can even walk."
He stared at her and then softly replied, "We'll just have to wait and see."
"Jack-," and then she stopped and her head whipped around to his legs and then back to his face. Narrowing her eyes a little, she stared straight into his eyes and asked, "Can you feel your legs?"
"Sam-," he started and then stopped when she gasped in horror as it hit her. He was talking to her so calmly while he had two broken legs and a broken hip... not to mention the broken ribs. She knew he could mask the pain of the ribs, he'd proven that in Antarctica. But the two broken legs and the broken hip should have either caused more visible pain – or simply caused him to pass out. His breath was a little ragged from the movement of the broken ribs and his voice was a little strained, but he was talking to her... as if he couldn't feel the pain in his legs.
His eyes couldn't hide the truth from her.
He couldn't feel his legs.
"What can you feel?" she asked with trepidation and he didn't answer immediately. "Jack?" she prompted gently but firmly.
He glanced away before answering, "Nothing below the waist," he admitted and she closed her eyes again for a moment.
It could be her fault. She could have caused more damage when she moved him here from the river bank. You're never supposed to move someone who might have a spinal injury.... but they didn't have any medical facilities. There was just the two of them. She didn't have a choice. She'd had to move him. And that movement could have been what caused his paralysis.
"It's not your fault, Sam," he tried to absolve her of the guilt he knew she was assuming.
She opened her eyes and met his.
Silence passed between them.
"Jack, we're not going to survive here if you can't walk. We need to see if I can help heal at least part of this," she insisted.
He studied her and she simply waited, resolute.
He finally nodded in resignation.
She gave him a grateful look of reassurance and then gently laid her hand on his broken hip. She tried to remember the feelings in her hand when they'd lain in the tent in the cold early morning hours.
Jack watched apprehensively.
But nothing happened.
She closed her eyes and tried to relax.
Trying to recreate the sensations in her palm.
But there was nothing.
She sat back, discouraged.
He couldn't help feeling relieved.
"It's OK, Sam," he reassured her. "We'll figure something out," he repeated what he'd said earlier.
She looked down and then over at his face, thoughtfully. "Let me try one more thing," and she moved over to kneel next to his chest. He watched her questioningly and she gave him a small smile and then slid her hand under his shirt.
He gasped as the chill of her cold hand lay against his chest.
"Sorry," she winced a little in apology and then pressed gently while feeling for his heartbeat. Closing her eyes again, she concentrated on the sensations of his heart pulsing through his chest and into her hand.
And then she felt the prickles...and the itching... and tingling.
Prepared this time, she didn't open her eyes or pull her hand away.
She relaxed and focused on his heartbeat.
He watched her face.
First thoughtful and focused.
And then she relaxed and she almost looked like she was asleep.
Something caught his eye and he looked down.
His eyes widened in astonishment at the soft green glow leaking out from the collar of his shirt.
A warmth was spreading across his chest and his mind grew fuzzy.
His thoughts became difficult to focus on.
A part of his mind warned him that they should stop.
That there was danger here.
But he was incapable of speaking or moving.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Time passed slowly in that soggy clearing
... as the rain-shrouded evening lost its last grey light of the day
... and slipped into night.
Unnoticed by either of the two Tauri.
One lying prone.
The other kneeling by his side.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - -
TBC
- - -
Author's note: I've had a couple of various types of first aid courses... and, hopefully, I had Sam handling things as well as can be expected given the conditions and limitations of their situation. For anything that I got wrong, I apologize to any medical professionals who read this and groaned and moaned at my medical blunders. What does a geologist know about medicine anyway? (looks sheepish)
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