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I am still medically ignorant so please ignore any stupidity.
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Chapter Seven
Peter moved as much out of the way as he could, not letting go of Neal's hand. He felt such relief seeing professions spring into action around his friend. An oxygen mask was applied first. "This will increase the efficiency of the remaining blood supply and get more oxygen to his brain." The man explained. Oxygen to the brain? Peter looked at Neal in alarm, but he knew this; the loss of consciousness due to blood loss was caused by a lack of oxygen to the brain.
"Marked tachycardia, decreased systolic BP, narrowed pulse pressure," the other man was saying, he placed a hand on Neal's forehead and checked his pupils "depressed mental status, skin is pale and cold to the touch, looks like a Class III or possible Class IV hemorrhage."
"Let's get this iv started in him." He spoke to Peter as he worked. " Your friend is suffering from hypovolemic shock, a condition in which severe blood loss make the heart unable to pump enough blood to the body. This will help compensate for some of the lost fluid volume. We will get some plasma going as soon as we get back to the unit." As soon as it was in, the medics prepared to move Neal into the gurney for transport. Peter stood up as they lifted Neal. "Now, keep him steady and as level as possible. No sudden moves."
It was easier said than done, carrying Neal back up the river bank to where the unit was waiting, and Peter had reluctantly surrendered Neal's hand, placing it gently under the blanket that covered his still body. Diana was waiting at the unit and met them as they crossed the embankment onto the hard surface. She glanced at what she knew was Neal on the gurney. Little of his face was visible but what there was looked gray. The medics had stopped to lower the wheels and lock them into place. After that, they began to roll quickly towards the waiting unit.
"Jones said it's bad," She tore her eyes from the lifeless body on the gurney and looked at Peter.
"Yeah, it is," Peter said, confirming her statement. "He's unconscious. He's lost a lot of blood." His voice sounded drained of emotions, much as Neal looked drained of blood.
"Boss," Diana said, "Did you get to…." She stopped and then rushed on, "Did you get to talk to him?"
Peter knew what was on her mind. She had been upset with him today, upset by the way he had treated Neal. She had tried to get him to reach out, and he had refused. And now Neal might be dying. How had he left things, she wanted to know, if this was, in fact, the end?
"Yes, I did," He swallowed hard, looking away. "I told him I was sorry….he," he paused, looking back at her face. "He wanted me there… after everything…he wanted me with him, Diana."
She could see tears in her boss's eyes; she nodded, not trusting her own voice.
"He asked me not to leave him," Peter continued, "He told me not to let him go." Peter's voice broke.
Diana's jaw clenched. "Well, then don't." At his look, she pulled up strength she didn't know she had. "He's not dead yet, Peter. Get in there with him and don't let him go. I will meet you at the hospital."
Peter nodded in agreement, suddenly strengthened by a task to focus on. He ran towards the unit, arriving just before the doors were closed. Flashing his badge and saying "I am going with him," he climbed into the unit without waiting for permission. The plasma was already started, and Peter moved to the small bench beside his friend. He grabbed the limp hand and squeezed. Neal didn't squeeze back this time, but it didn't matter.
"I won't let you go." The voice was strong; the tone matter of fact. Neal couldn't argue with that. He would know better.
The medic smiled; the kid might just make it, after all.