Devon walked into the room and sat down on one of the sofas. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
Conrad strode inside fresh from a good night's sleep and ready to seize whatever the day would bring him.
"Rough night?" he asked seeing Devon exhausted in the sofa.
Devon opened his eyes and looked at him. "Yep, and the day isn't over yet."
Just as he finished his sentence, both of their beepers went off requesting them to head down to the ER. Devon stood as Conrad took off his backpack, took one last sip from his cup and threw it in the garbage.
"What have we got?" asked Conrad as they joined Irving in the center of the ER just in front of the automatic doors.
"Bus accident, multiple wounded. They've apparently been doing triage on site and will bring us the victims in order of priority."
Conrad looked at Devon. "No rest for the weak my friend. It's going to be a long day."
The first ambulance sirens were heard nearing, they prepped and stood next to one another.
The EMTs took out the stretcher from the ambulance and ran toward the doors. Alongside the gurney was a woman dressed in white sneakers, a pair of blue jeans and a white button-down shirt, all stained with blood.
As they neared the doors and they opened, they noticed that the man on the stretcher had been amputated from below the knee.
Conrad walked over.
"Let's get him to Trauma 1," he said.
"Carlos Diaz, 35 years old. BP 60 over 90, heartrate 146. Amputation of the left leg under the knee, done out on the field. There was nothing to be recovered."
In saying so they simply indicated that no limb would be brought over for reattachment.
As one of the nurses hooked up Diaz to the monitors, Conrad looked at the injury. The tourniquet was perfect and doing its job. Just tightened enough to reduce the blood loss to a minimum, but not let the rest of the leg die from lack of blood flow. A dressing had been placed on the stump to protect the wound and avoid additional contamination.
He removed the dressing to look at the knee.
"Who did the amputation?"
It was neatly done but he could tell it hadn't been severed during the accident. Someone had most probably finished the amputation to remove the victim from the crash. Not something any of the EMTs would have done.
"She did," replied one of the EMT's as they walked away, pointing to the woman who had accompanied them and was still standing next to the gurney looking at the monitors.
He turned and stared agog at the woman.
"His sat is dropping, we're going to have to intubate," she said as she turned her attention away from the monitors and looked at Conrad. He looked up at the screen and indeed saw his sat dropping slowly but steadily.
The woman turned to a semi-conscious Diaz.
"Carlos, to help you breathe we're going to have to intubate, everything will be fine. Do you hear me?"
He looked at her and nodded in understanding.
Conrad stared in confusion and anger as the woman turned, grabbed his stethoscope from around his neck, and listened to his lungs.
"I've got reduced breath sounds on the left side. He's got a hemothorax."
She looked at the nurse. "Get me a chest-tube insertion tray."
The nurse looked at the woman then at Conrad.
Conrad put his hand up. "Whoa! What do you think you're doing? And who the hell are you?"
"I'd love to do a proper introduction, but right now I'd like to save my patient, Doctor Hawkins."
He blinked. 'Her patient?!'
"Now, I suggest you prepare Carlos for intubation while I take care of his hemothorax."
Conrad kept his eyes on the woman as he headed to the head of the bed. As he prepared for intubation he watched as she draped the site, locally anesthetized the skin and rib periosteum. She took the 11-blade in her hand and without shaking or flinching, made a 2-3 cm transverse incision in the fifth intercostal space, just over the rib. She punctured the pleura with the tip of a clamp, put her gloved finger in the incision to avoid injury to other organs and cleared out a clot. She put in the tube and then listened again if the breath sounds had improved. She then connected the tube to the apparatus and sutured the tube in.
Conrad was in awe. He had no idea who this woman was, but it was obvious she was a doctor, there was no other explanation.
As he finished intubating Carlos, he looked at the monitors. His sat was improving and so was his heartrate and blood pressure.
Al walked over with another doctor, most probably his intern and looked at the scene.
"Hey Jules," he said looking at the woman, apparently not surprised by her presence and obviously knowing who she was. "I came down as soon as I could."
"Thanks Al. I appreciate it. I'm going to need you with me in the OR."
He nodded. "Let's go then."
While the woman and the intern headed off with the nurse out of the trauma room, Conrad stopped Al.
"Mind filling me in?"
Al looked at him curiously.
"About what?"
"Who the hell is that?"
Al looked toward the stretcher than back at Conrad. "You really need to read your emails Hawkins. That's Julia Adams, Chastain's new trauma surgeon."
Al hastened away and joined the stretcher at the elevator doors.
Conrad looked at them. So that was Julia Adams. He had heard about her, and her reputation preceded her. She was one of the most qualified trauma surgeons in the Southeast and he hadn't known that she was coming to working at Chastain. Just as the elevator doors closed, her eyes caught his. She gave a nod in his direction and then disappeared behind the metal doors.