Chapter 8
About that time, the incoming helicopter was heard in the distance. Resuscitation efforts were continuing on the President.
"Is he breathing yet?" asked a worried First Lady, torn between her husband and her grandson.
"No, ma'am." Replied one of the agents standing over the paramedics as they frantically worked to bring back the President. Until a physician pronounced him dead, they really had no choice.
The helicopter landed and Jed was loaded on the stretcher and then returned quickly to the belly of the helicopter.
One of the agents turned to Abbey. "Ma'am, we'll take your grandson with us."
She looked down at Gus who had quit shivering by the time the helicopter had landed. A choice had to be made.
"No. I'll keep him with me." She didn't want him to be alone if Jed didn't make it. "Just get my husband to the hospital."
"Is Grandpa asleep?" Gus looked into his grandmother's face.
"No. He's very ill though. The men will take good care of him." Abbey didn't have anything else to tell Gus at this particular moment. But truly, she didn't want to think about what could happen.
Shortly after the medical helicopter left with the President aboard, Abbey, Annie and Gus followed in a second helicopter. For the duration of the fifteen minute trip, Abbey and Annie held each other's hands, not quite wanting to believe that the worse had occurred.
After a brief ride, the Marine helicopter landed on the pad at Bethesda. The group made their way from the landing pad through the front door.
Somehow the news of the President's accident had already been leaked. Some reporters had already shown up and camera flashes were going off in their faces. However, Abbey was more concerned about her man inside than the reporters outside. And she knew that CJ would handle the coming influx.
Her only destination was the Emergency Room and her husband.
As they turned the corner, they were met by a nurse who took them to the trauma room, where the President was being assessed.
As Abbey entered Trauma One, the doctor in charge stepped forward.
"Mrs. Bartlet, I'm Dr. Howard, Chief of Pulmonary Medicine. The President seems to be having quite a few problems. He's still not breathing on his own, so we are keeping him on artificial ventilation. He has a heart beat, but it is extremely slow and erratic. We can determine that was no physical injury. But we are very concerned about his body temperature. We have placed warming blankets around him, but feel very strongly we need to try something else. Something a little more drastic."
"What?" Abbey asked, not knowing what Dr. Howard was proposing.
"Ma'am, we can take him to the operating room and hook him to the cardiac bypass machine. We would make incisions into his groin and pump warmed fluid through his body until his core temperature is warm enough to sustain him. However, it is experimental and could cause more complications than it would solve."
Abbey looked at her unconscious, possibly dying husband. Would she gamble and risk him to an experimental procedure or assure his death by doing nothing?
With tears in her eyes, she nodded yes. Immediately, the trauma team rolled the President's stretcher out the door and ran down the hall. There was no time to waste.