Remedy




Dave stared out the doors of the ambulance bay at two figures walking hand in hand across the street. The moon cast a dim glow around the figures. They walked quickly toward the parking garage. It was several more seconds until the figures disappeared into the darkness, but Dave could not move from where he stood.

The sound of sirens abruptly ended Dave's thoughts. Flashing red light sprayed across the ambulance bay as Dave ran out into the cold air to greet the gurneys. The brisk wind sent chills up Dave's spine as he was greeted by Doris, who was already yelling out vital signs, prior health conditions, and paramedic treatment of the small child on the gurney.

"Car versus tree. His name is Brad Benson. No LOC, a slow drip of saline in the field, only minor cuts and bruises to the head and torso. Does not complain of abdominal pain. Good luck, Brad," Doris said as she ran to help another paramedic with Brad's mother.

"Brad, I'm Dr. Dave. I'm going to take you in an exam room and check you out, okay?" Dave said as he and Lydia pushed to gurney into Curtain Two.

"Where's my mom?" Brad asked.

"She came in another ambulance. Let me check you out and then I'll go check on your mother," Dave said to the small boy.

Dave carefully examined the cuts on the boy's face. The cuts were for the most part clotted and adorned with small shards of glass. Streams of blood had dried giving the boy's face, which made his injuries appear worse than they actually were. His pupils were round, reactive to light and reactive to accommodation so his vision was still intact. The aqueous and vitreous humors were clear without dark sports or clouding.

Satisfied with his examination of Brad's face, Dave concentrated his efforts on the boy's stomach. From the size of the boy, Dave guessed that he was no older than five years old. Brad had a small, round stomach. There was bilateral rising and falling of the chest without crackles or wheezes. The heart sounds were normal, but fast due to the small boy's fear. The bowel sounds were active in all four quadrants. There was no rebound tenderness or guarding upon examination. There was no evidence of fluid displacement or retention.

"Lydia, could you start a foley on Brad. Keep the IV fluids going for a little bit longer, but Brad, I think you are going to be fine. Just to be safe, order and surgical rule-out, a trauma panel, CBC, and dip of urine. I'll call for a portable x-ray on the orbit," Dave said quietly to Lydia.

"Brad, I need to clean up the cuts on your face. It's going to sting a little bit . . . like a tiny bee sting," Dave said to the little boy.

"Where's my mommy," Brad began to cry. His brown eyes flood with tears that began to stream down his face over the cuts, the streams of blood, and the small pieces of glass that were piercing his flesh.

"Buddy, your mommy in another room getting checked by a doctor the same way that you did. The nurse, Lydia, is going to go check on your mom and tell her that you are okay," Dave said as he smoothed his hands through Brad's black hair although it was matted with dried blood.

"Okay," whispered the small boy.

Dave laboriously irrigated the cuts on Brad's face. He meticulously picked small shards of glass from the boy's chocolate colored skin. The boy barely flinched as Dave work on his face. Dave was worried about the effect of shock on the young boy. Brad did not attempt to talk to Dave or the nurses and responded to questions in nearly inaudible sounds. He no longer cried or looked about the room for his mother. Brad's face was blank when he was told his mother was in surgery and could not come to see him. He was as rigid as a board when Benton came down to examine him.

"Brad, your father will be here in a little while to take you home. You can take a nap until he is here. If you need anything, Lydia or I will be here," Dave said as he took off his gloves and placed a large stack to books and coloring books next to Brad.

Dave walked out to the ambulance bay and drew the cold air into his lungs. He always had intended to be a pediatric specialist, but no program would offer him that chance considering his grades and his latest performance review by Kerry Weaver. Dave was drawn to children. Their tiny feet, tiny mouths, and high, shrill voices fascinated him. Everything about a child was amazing. Conception, gestation, and birth were miracles that Dave could only imagine, but could not fully understand.

Seven years ago, Dave had his whole life planned. He was to graduate with honors from the Biology program at Brown with minors in psychology and chemistry. He would attend medical school at Harvard or Princeton. Dave wanted to complete his residence in pediatrics at University of New York Children's Hospital. He would be chief resident and eventually an attending. Dave would settle down with a wife and have at least three children. He would do anything for his family. They would vacation in Florida and South Carolina. His dream crumbled later that year. Everything had happened at once . . . his life would never be the same. Now he was left with only vague memories of what it felt like to be on top of the world . . . to have his life in tact.

All in one day, it had happened. One had died, one had left, and that left one alone searching for ways to undo all that had happened. Dave knew that it was his mother's death that had spurred all the angst and anguish in his life. It hurt to relive that day, but every year around Christmas he was forced to remember the loss of all that was good in his life.

Dave could remember his small dorm room. It was his sophomore year. His mother had insisted that she buy him a new desk and computer, so he would fit in with all rich kids on campus. She worked for weeks to afford the polished oak desk and the out-dated Macintosh computer. He was sitting at the desk trying to finish his general physiology report on . . . the function of the adrenal glands in regulating blood pressure. His uncle had called from Brooklyn. His mother had died. The cancer had finally consumed more than her breasts . . . it had infiltrated her lungs and portions of her liver. The funeral would be on Saturday . . . his uncle would come pick him up Friday morning.

He recalled running down the stairs of the dorm to the room where Carly and Dawn lived. He knocked frantically calling out Carly's name. Dawn answered the door and pointedly told Dave that Carly was at the library. Dave retreated to his room to mourn the loss of his mother. He was afraid of being alone. For some reason, he called Carly's sister, Anna. They had all been friends since Carly had started at Brown one year earlier. Some time later, Anna was at his door carrying a case of Miller and a bottle of Malibu. They talked for hours about nothing . . . they drank heavily. Dave remembered crying while he told Anna about his mother and her death. Anna held him tightly.

The rest of the night was fuzzy. Somehow, Dave and Anna had ended up making love in his bed. Carly had crept in the room to see Dave, but was greeted with the image of him making love to her sister. Carly started to scream at the both of them. She told him that she never wanted to see him again . . . she could never make love to a man that had cheated on her with her own sister. She left that night. Carly avoided Dave at all costs. He seldomly saw Carly on campus . . . when he did; she walked away from him.

Carly was gone, his mother was dead, and Dave was left behind in a life of loneliness and misery. His grades steadily declined . . . he drank heavily . . . he partied too much. Everything important in his life was gone, so he wondered why he should try anymore. There was no one to be impressed at his knowledge of the cranial nerves. There was no one to help him decide which medical school he should apply to. There was no one fall asleep next to at night. He slowly transformed into the Dave he was today.

"Dave, I'm leaving. Have a good night," Luka said as he waved to the figure standing motionlessly in the ambulance bay.

"Yeah, thanks . . . you too," Dave muttered.

Kerry laid on the sofa in the lounge. She kept her eyes tightly closed as she desperately tried to block out the noise of the incoming ambulances and the shouts and cries coming from chairs. Kerry's temples pounded from the noise and the thoughts of Carter and Carly. Kerry knew everything about them was wrong. He was her resident . . . she was his medical student and his coworker. John knew better than to violate rules that were meant to protect fragile hearts, such as his own. Kerry could not bear the thought of John Carter being broken again. Susan had damn near destroyed him, Anna had refused his love, Roxanne had taken advantage of him, and Lucy and died and taken his heart with her.

"Kerry, it's time to go," Kim said as she gently shook Kerry's shoulder.

"Thank you for the ride. I thought I could come in. I needed to come in. I had to protect John from Romano," Kerry rambled as Kim helped the sick woman to her feet.

"Kerry, I'll go back to your place and pick up some of your things tomorrow, but now I want to get you home and put you to bed," Kim said as she allowed Kerry to lean heavily against her.

"Dr. Legaspi, before you leave, here is the course of antibiotics I would like you to run on Dr. Weaver. Inject the Gentamicin intramuscularly twice a day. Use acetaminophen to bring down her fever and push water," Dr. Greene said as he handed Kim a small bag of medical supplies.

"Dr. Greene, I am sure that I can take care of Kerry just fine," Kim snapped at Mark.

"Kerry, call me whenever you think you are capable of coming back to work healthy," Mark said as he escorted the two women to the sliding doors.

"Thank you, Mark," Kerry said as the two women ventured out into the night.

Mark watched the two women walk past a very still Mallucci. Mark often times wondered how so many interesting personalities managed to make their way into his emergency room. He generally had amicable relationships with all that worked with him. There were very few people that he was close to . . . mainly Carter, Doug, and Susan, but they had all left him behind. Susan had left for Arizona several years ago, Doug ran away to Seattle, and Carter became someone he did not even know anymore. Out of everyone, Mark missed Carter the most. He missed the eager young man, who wanted to learn and wanted someone to guide him in the right direction. Carter had turned to him for advice about Benton many times during his years as a medical student. Carter was the one who was always asking questions and asking for advice on procedures. Carter was the one who went with him and Doug to countless Bulls games.

Mark often times wondered where that part of Carter had gone. Occasionally, he would get a glimpse of the "old" Carter. Today, when he was with Carly, Carter eager to please and the polite gentleman he had once been.

Marked dreaded the possibility of the beginnings of a romance between Carter and Carly. Sure, Carly seemed like the perfect solution to Carter's woes. She was smart, charming, gorgeous, and gentle, but her connections to Romano and Mallucci worried him. Dave was obviously hell-bent on winning back Carly's love. Romano would never let a relative of his date someone that he had already publicly labeled a drug addict.

"Dr. Green, Dr. Romano is on line one for you," Randi shouted to him from behind the reception desk.

"Yeah, Randi, I've got it," Mark said as he dragged himself out of a state of thought and to the telephone," What can I do for you?"

"How is she?" Romano asked. Mark could hear a tinge of worry on his voice, something mark had never heard before.

"Ms. Del Amico is going to be an exceptional addition to our staff."

"Dr. Greene, I hate to do this, but I need you to keep her away from Mallucci. I'd lock her away in a tower, but those damn child abuse laws keep getting stricter," Romano said half-serious and half-joking.

"Robert, as a member of the staff, Carolyn will be working with all other members of the staff."

"Mark, I'm not going to ask. I'm telling you that I do not want her working with Mallucci."

"Robert, I cannot guarantee that I can make that happen."

"They have a history that cannot repeat itself."

"I heard something about them attending Brown, but that was years ago. What are the chances?"

"Who the hell knows what Mallucci has on his agenda," Robert said solemnly, "Mark, when did Carolyn leave? I can't get her at her hotel or on her cell phone."

"About a half hour ago," Mark said surprised at Romano's compassion and loyalty to his young niece.

"Did she mention having to go somewhere this evening?"

"No, she was going to drop Dr. Carter off and then go home," Mark said already alarmed that Carter and Carly were missing. Mark knew that Romano could never accept the idea of a "reformed druggie" being with his niece. Mark prayed that they had car trouble rather than them becoming romantically involved.

"As long as its Carter . . . I can't worry too much," Robert said with a slight sigh. He had been hoping that one of the staff members would help Carolyn readjust to Chicago. Robert wanted to make Chicago a home for the last remaining member of his immediate family. He could never get Carolyn to remember all that Chicago had to offer . . . museums, hospitals, and universities. Someone besides him needed to be the one to show her Chicago and make her realize that she cannot run away anymore.

"Robert, I have another emergency call. I'm sure she will be home soon. I'll call Carter and make sure he got home okay," Mark said as he pushed the blinking red emergency line light on the telephone.

"County General. This is Dr. Greene. How can I help you?" Mark said into the telephone.

"Mark, can you hear me?" Carter shouted into the cell phone, but the static made his words barely audible.

"Carter, is that you? I can barely hear you," Mark said frightened that something had happened to Carter and Carly on their way home.

"Mark, Carly is seizing. Her pulse and respirations are tachy and irregular. Her eyes are still reactive, but sluggish. She complained of body aches and vomited a few times. Then, she started seizing. I think it's a grand mol, I was driving so I couldn't see her," Carter shouted. Mark could hear that Carter's voice was full of panic and concern.

"Is an ambulance coming?"

"No, I'm driving us in. Our ETA is 15 minutes. I am going to pull right into the ambulance bay. Be ready for us," Carter shouted as the static became louder.

"See you then, Carter," Mark said as he hung up the telephone.

Mark placed the telephone on its cradle and stood still for a minute. It took him a minute to reassure himself that this time it was not Carter that needed his help, but someone else. Mark felt calmer knowing that, but he also dreaded calling Romano and telling him that his niece was in the ER.

"Malik, find Dr. Chen. Tell everyone to put on full isolation suits and masks. Chuny, get trauma one ready for a seize patient. I want adavan, soft restraints, and a cooling blanket out. Carter is bringing Carly in. They should be here and minute. Peter, get a gurney and meet me in the bay," Mark yelled as he walked out to the ambulance bay.

Mark pushed open the doors to the ambulance bay. The cold October air and the bright, white light of the moon greeted him. He shivered slightly as he remembered working on Carter. Mark was thankful that this time it was someone else, but slightly saddened at the thought of it being a young, beautiful woman.

"Mark, what's going on?" Dr. Benton said as he wheeled the gurney into the empty ambulance bay.

"It's not Carter this time."



Part 8
Fanfiction Home