The doctor sat down, going through a patient's chart in his office, when a knock distracted him.
"Come in!" he said, staring at the door as if expecting a particular visitor. One of the nurses came in, holding onto a file. She had dark circles under her eyes that told the story of a long night.
"Good morning, Doctor. Emilee's guardian is here."
"Oh, let her in!" he said, adjusting his seat.
Emilee's mother came in, wearing her usual glasses. The doctor gave a reassuring smile that melted peace into the hearts of nervous patients. The walls, painted a calming cream, were adorned with awards and framed certificates that spoke to the doctor's expertise. A vase with fresh flowers brought a touch of nature indoors. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the doctor's desk, which was tidy and organized with a few family photos.
Her eyes, visible behind the glasses, were red and swollen, as if she had cried all her tears out. They burned with intensity. She didn't even wait for the doctor to ask her to sit down before she sat and burst into tears again. She removed her glasses and wiped her tears.
"Madam, it's okay. You don't have to cry. Emilee is fine," the doctor said.
"She's not looking too good to me. She's lying there lifeless. What exactly is wrong with my daughter?" Her sadness turned her words into whispers, and her voice cracked.
"We've been monitoring Emilee's condition closely. Given her history of a weak heart, it's not surprising that she's developed heart failure. This condition means her heart isn't pumping efficiently, which can lead to various complications.
"Doctor!" she cried, holding his hand in hers, tears streaming down her face. "Will my child be fine?"
"Of course, she will be fine," the doctor reassured her.
The nurse who had once come in rushed in.
"Your attention is urgently needed" She said with her voice laced with urgency before dashing out speedily.
The doctor rushed out of the office, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, and Emilee's mother stood up to leave as well, her eyes still red from crying. But midway out the door, the doctor suddenly stopped and spun around, a look of realization crossing his face. He was without his stethoscope and white coat. He patted his pocket, felt the familiar absence of his stethoscope's weight, and hurried back into the office, his long strides eating up the distance.
He snatched the stethoscope from his cluttered desk, the instrument tangling momentarily with the arranged papers and medical journals that occupied the surface. He quickly retrieved his white coat from the hook on the wall where he had hung it earlier, the crisp fabric rustling as he slipped it on. Then, he rushed out to the emergency room, the automatic doors swooshing open as he burst through them.
The scene that greeted him was one of controlled chaos. Nurses and doctors were scrambling to stabilize a patient - a disheveled young man, reeking of stale beer and vomit, who lay motionless on the gurney. His clothes were torn and stained, and a large gash on his forehead oozed blood, which a nurse was hastily trying to clean and dress. The machines surrounding him beeped and whirred, monitoring his vital signs as the team worked to save his life.
The man's eyes were closed, and his breathing was labored, each breath a ragged gasp that spoke of serious internal injuries. A quick glance at the chart revealed that he had been hit by a motorcycle while intoxicated, and the impact had sent him flying several feet through the air. The doctor's trained eyes took in the severity of the situation in an instant, and he sprang into action, directing the team with crisp, decisive orders.
"Let's get an MRI and CT scan to assess the extent of the injuries," he said to the nurse. "And prepare him for possible surgery. I want to rule out any internal bleeding or organ damage."
The nurse nodded and quickly relayed the orders to the rest of the team. Within minutes, the patient was wheeled off to the imaging department.An hour later, the doctor reviewed the imaging results with the radiologist. "What do we have?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the images.
"It looks like he has a subdural hematoma," the radiologist replied. "We'll need to monitor his intracranial pressure closely. And there's also a possible fracture in his left femur."
The doctor nodded, his mind racing with the implications. "Let's get neurosurgery on board to evaluate the hematoma. And orthopedics to assess the femur fracture. We'll need to prioritize stabilizing his condition and managing his pain."
The nurse, who had been quietly observing the conversation, spoke up.
"Doctor, should I prepare him for surgery?"
"Yes, let's get him ready. We'll need to move quickly to prevent further complications."
As the team sprang into action, the doctor turned to the nurse and said, "Keep a close eye on his vitals. I want to know the moment anything changes. The guardian please?"
"They are not here. But the driver that hit him paid for everything in advance"
The nurse nodded and followed the patient to the operating room, where the surgical team was waiting.After what felt like an eternity, the surgery was completed. The doctor emerged from the OR, looking tired but relieved.
"How did it go?" the man that hit him asked the doctor with concerned.
"The hematoma was larger than we expected, but we were able to evacuate it successfully. And the orthopedic team repaired the femur fracture. He's stable for now, but we'll need to monitor him closely in the ICU."
He then face one of the nurses wheeling him out.
"Be sure to keep a close eye on him."
The nurse nodded with a satisfied smile.
"Are the guardians around now?"
He had barely finished his statement when a woman ran in like a mad woman, barefooted. Her daughter was trying to catch up with her and behold! It was Sonia.