In The Air Tonight, Part 9
- - -
The nurse, closely followed by a doctor, interrupted Michael Vaughn's thoughts. Smiling slightly in greeting, the nurse said, "Michael, this is Dr. Robbins; he'll be taking care of you."
Dr. Robbins looked Vaughn over from head to foot, taking a quick inventory of injuries and then consulted his medical chart. Then, meeting Vaughn's eye, he inquired, "So..Michael… Can you tell me what happened here?"
Could I tell you what happened!? Vaughn thought sarcastically. That's a really good question. Well, first I discovered a colleague half-dead in a bathtub. Then I found my girlfriend's best friend since childhood shot three times in the chest. Then I found the love of my life crumpled on the floor like a rag doll, having shot said friend. Then I find out that said friend was not said friend, but a body double of said friend… And now no one in the whole damn hospital seems to know whether my girlfriend is dead or alive… How's that for a sum up!?
But Vaughn simply replied, "I…fell into some broken glass."
"Uh, huh," the doctor concurred. "Must have been quite a lot of it."
Vaughn nodded, not willing to go into further detail. The doctor must have sensed this because he cleared his throat and said, "Okay, well, let's have a look at your thigh." Dr. Robbins removed the pressure bandage the EMTs had applied to the wound. Immediately, blood began to seep out of it, dribbling down the side of Vaughn's leg. Turning to the nurse, he said, "Sponges, please…"
The nurse opened a cabinet door and retrieved a package of surgical sponges and a towel. Dr. Robbins grabbed a sterile set of long tweezers from a tray on the counter. "I'm sorry, Mr. Vaughn, but before I can stitch this up, I'm going to have to check for any remaining pieces of glass in there. I can anesthetize the area first, if you like; this might be painful."
Vaughn shook his head, setting his jaw determinedly. "No," he replied. "I'll be fine."
Dr. Robbins assessed Vaughn for a moment, as if trying to decide if he thought this man could handle the pain. Then, he nodded to the nurse, saying, "Make sure you keep sponging this; I want to make sure I can see what I'm doing."
"Yes, doctor." The nurse swabbed the area with a clean sponge.
Vaughn's breath hissed through his clenched teeth as the doctor prodded around the wound with the tweezers, but he didn't flinch. After a moment, the doctor nodded, satisfied, and set the now bloody tweezers aside.
"Well, you'll be happy to know that the EMTs did an outstanding job of getting that gash clean. You did cut a small vein in there, which is why you're still bleeding so much. We're going to have to fix that first." Vaughn nodded his understanding. For the first time since it happened, he could feel his thigh throbbing painfully with each heartbeat. But, in a way, he was grateful for the sting, because at least it told him he could still feel something other than the dull numbness that had surrounded him ever since he'd arrived at Sydney's house.
Dr. Robbins turned to the nurse. "Type him, and then get me a pint." Turning to Vaughn, he explained, "Just a precaution. You've probably lost a bit of blood from this." The nurse swabbed a sample of blood from his wound and capped the swab in a plastic tube. As she turned to go, Dr. Robbins said, "Send in Nurse Sanchez with a suction… I want to get started on this right away." The nurse nodded and left.
The doctor focused his attention back on Vaughn. "We'd like to put you under for a bit, just so we can repair the damage to your—"
"No." Vaughn denied flatly.
"But it would make it easier to –"
"No," Vaughn said again. He needed to be awake and alert. He needed to find out what was happening with Sydney.
Dr. Robbins sighed, acquiescing. "All right, we'll do it your way. I'll need to inject a local anesthetic near the wound, but you will still feel some of the pain."
"Fine."
Nurse Sanchez arrived, rolling in a suction machine. "Give the patient a local, I'd like to get started," the doctor informed her.
Nurse Sanchez looked at Dr. Robbins, dumbfounded. After a moment, she protested, "But… doctor…"
"Patient's request, Nurse Sanchez," he answered, anticipating her concern. After a quizzical look at her patient, she complied with the doctor's request. The anesthetic stung for a few moments before it blessedly numbed Vaughn's entire upper leg.
"Lay back, Mr. Vaughn," ordered the doctor, "and get comfortable. This will take a little time."
- - -
After 20 minutes of repair work to his vein and another 20 to sew up the gash, Dr. Robbins checked Vaughn's left hand and sealed that cut with butterfly enclosures before rewrapping it with fresh gauze.
"Well," he told Vaughn, admiring his handiwork, "I'd say you're going to be just fine. Those scars will be minimal, but just be mindful of the stitches in your leg. If you overexert for the next week or so, you could reopen the wound." To the nurse he said, "Keep him until he's finished that pint and then he's free to go," pointing to the half empty bag of A positive blood now dripping into Vaughn's right arm. "Good luck, Mr. Vaughn." Dr. Robbins extended his right hand; Vaughn did the same.
"Thank you, doctor," he replied. "But, can you please check on the status of Sydney Bristow? She's supposed to be in surgery."
After writing a few last comments on Vaughn's medical records, Dr. Robbins placed the pen in his front coat pocket. "I'll see what I can do," he replied and left the room.
Nurse Sanchez spent another moment cleaning up the examination room and checking Vaughn's IV before telling him, "Okay, I think you're all set. I'll come back and check on you in a few minutes."
Vaughn nodded his approval, and she left. She had been kind enough to raise the head of the table so that he was half sitting up now, which was infinitely more comfortable than being flat on his back. Still, it was eating at him that he'd gone nearly two hours without any word on Sydney's condition.
Just when he'd given up hope that he would hear anything at all about Sydney's condition, the door to his examination room creaked open, revealing his new visitor to be none other than Jake Rambaldi, the EMT from the ambulance.
Vaughn's eyes widened a little in surprise; he'd figured the medic had been called away for another job and hadn't gotten the opportunity to fulfill his request.
"Hey…" Jake said, smile lines crinkling around his eyes. "You're looking a lot better than when I left you…"
"Thanks. I thought maybe you'd gotten another call or something…"
"Nah," Jake replied. "Your run was at the end of my shift. Just had lots of paperwork to catch up on. Not to mention that the nurses upstairs kept stonewalling me about getting info on your friend." Then Jake's grin widened conspiratorially. "But, well, the head nurse on the ICU ward…she's got a soft spot for me…"
Instantly, Jake Rambaldi had Vaughn's complete attention. "What did you find out?"
"According to the surgeon's report, she had a severe concussion, a broken wrist and four broken ribs, one of which punctured a lung. The piece of glass wedged in her back was only about a ¼ inch away from severing the spinal cord, but they were able to remove it successfully without complication. She suffered some internal bleeding near her liver and stomach, which they were able to stop, and probably at least one of her kidneys is bruised. Could have been a lot worse. They transferred her to the ICU ward about ten minutes ago." Jake reported.
Vaughn asked breathlessly, "Does that mean she's going to be all right?"
"I wouldn't go to that extreme yet," Jake explained. "They're concerned about swelling on the brain and whether she'll suffer renal shutdown due to the kidney bruising. The next 24 to 48 hours will be crucial to her recovery."
"But she survived the surgery…" Vaughn pressed.
"Yes, she survived the surgery…which is a good sign. I told you she was a fighter."
Vaughn smiled softly. "Yes, she certainly is." You have no idea how much of a fighter she is, he thought, but kept it to himself.
At that moment, the door to the examination room burst open, announcing the arrival of Jack Bristow, with Eric Weiss trailing close behind.
Jake Rambaldi was taken aback by the very forceful entrance and looked nervously from the frightening steel-haired man to Michael and back. He gave Michael a meaningful stare which all but screamed, Are you okay? Do you need help?
Vaughn shook his head slightly and smiled. "Jake, I'd like you to meet Jack Bristow…" motioning in Jack's direction with his bandaged hand, "…Sydney's father. And this," motioning toward Weiss, "is my friend Eric."
Jake gamely thrust his hand out to Eric and nodded to Jack. "Nice to meet you," he said.
"And this," Vaughn motioned toward Jake, "is one of the EMTs who helped me in the ambulance…Jake Rambaldi."
Only a lone muscle in Jack's eternal poker face twitched, but Weiss started choking. "Did you say your name was Rambaldi!? As in Milo Rambaldi!?"
Jake looked at Weiss very curiously, "Yeah…."
Vaughn cut in before Eric gave anything away. "Oh, don't mind Eric," he told Jake. "He's spent many a late night helping me do my research."
"Research?" Eric echoed, confused.
Vaughn looked at Weiss meaningfully. "Um, Eric? You know, research? For my philosophy thesis? About Milo Rambaldi?"
"Oh! Yeah, stupid me." Weiss recovered. "Sorry," he said to Jake, "don't mind me…I'm usually in bed by now; not all the pistons are firing."
"No problem. Speaking of the time, though; I probably should go. I got an 8 a.m. shift tomorrow." He headed toward the door, but stopped.
Turning he said to Vaughn, "You still have my number, right?"
"Uh, yeah, I still have it. Why?"
"I was thinking maybe you could call me in a few days and let me know how your friend's doing. We're not supposed to get attached to our patients and all, but well, I figure once in a while won't hurt…" he smiled.
Gratitude shone in Vaughn's eyes. "I'll do that, thanks."
"And maybe sometime after we can get together for a few beers and I can fill you in on all that crazy Rambaldi stuff you asked me about."
"Sounds like a plan." Vaughn tried to keep the tone of his voice light.
Eric turned and gaped at Vaughn, but luckily Jake didn't see this; he'd already turned and walked out the door.
Once Weiss regained the ability to speak, he breathed, "Oh, man, he's a Rambaldi!? And he knows stuff about ol' Milo? How the heck did you find out about that?"
Jack looked at Weiss, annoyed. "Never mind that now!" Staring down Vaughn, he demanded, "Where is she?"