FULL CIRCLE

Chapter11

Miles had been asleep for about three hours when he heard someone calling his name. He rolled over to see one of the medical aides looking down at him. "Dr. McCabe."

"What is it?" he asked, swinging his feet to the floor instantly awake.

"Mrs. Delaney is having trouble breathing."

Miles mentally went over the list of his patients' names. No Delaney. But she could just be getting sick. "Let me get my kit," he said.

"All right," the aide said, watching him.

Kit in hand, Miles followed her to a room at the far end of the facility. The room had a single occupant, an elderly woman sitting up in bed, gasping for breath. As he moved closer, he recognized her as Rosie, the one who'd tried to flirt with him. She wasn't one of his patients but he wasn't about to turn his back on her. "Hello, Rosie. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Can't…breathe," she gasped, the panic showing in her eyes.

Miles looked over to the aide, whose nametag said 'Kelly' and told her, "Call 911." As he spoke, he was taking out his stethoscope and placing it in his ears. "Rosie, I want to listen to your breathing. Okay?"

She nodded visibly calming. He placed the stethoscope on her chest, listening to the rapid breathing and fluid on her lungs. Moving it to listen to her heart, he frowned as it was rapid and faint. Even as he listened it grew fainter.

"Is…this it?" she asked looking at him, the fear now replaced by trust.

He nodded. "I think so." He didn't want to lie to her, give her false hope. The paramedics could probably get her to the hospital so they could keep her alive with aggressive treatment. But would it be worth it?

"Will you…stay with…me? I don't…want to…die alone…"

"Is there family we can call?" Miles asked.

"No…no one." Her voice was growing fainter. "You know…I'm not…afraid…to…die…"

Miles pulled up a chair to the bed and sat down, fingers on her wrist. He'd at least stay with her until the paramedics came..

"Thank you…she whispered, closing her eyes.

After a few minutes Kelly returned followed by a blonde woman in scrubs who was clutching a file. "I checked Rosie's file. She has a DNR order. the blonde said.

Miles nodded, understanding. "I didn't know." He looked to the aide. "Did you get 911 called?"

She looked down at her shoes. ""No. Ms. Melendez told me not to."

"That's okay," Miles replied.

"How much longer?" Ms. Melendez asked, looking at Rosie.

"Not long. She's dying of congestive heart failure," the doctor replied, moving aside to give the woman his chair.

"Rosie has had heart trouble for years. Is she in any pain?"

"No. No pain. She'll just slip into a coma and not wake up," Miles replied.

"I'm Marcelina Melendez, the assistant director and night supervisor," the young woman introduced herself.

"Dr. Miles McCabe. I'm with the N.I.H."

You must be here to find out why those patients are so sick. Mrs. Landon told me. I'll call her in the morning after Rosie," she said brushing back the woman's hair. "Dying alone has been her greatest fear ever since her husband died."

Miles pulled up another chair and sat down to wait, knowing it wouldn't be too much longer before he pronounced time of death.