Faith’s pulse ox came up, her skin pinked, and her blood pressure decided on its position. “One hundred percent,” Josh exclaimed. “We haven’t seen that in a while.”
Peggy was encouraged, too. “This step was clearly necessary.” A Doppler materialized and Cori’s heart swished along.
Peggy and Ann exited the ICU and removed their garb. “She looks a lot better like this,” she told Ann.
“Yes, but I’m not happy,” Ann said. “This just seems to be gradually declining.”
“Well, but at least it took four days to get to this point. That’s better than any other patient we’ve had who needed a ventilator.”
“Is that a good sign? Or are you rationalizing?”
“I don’t know. I’m not happy, either. Are we getting any more lab tests?” Peggy asked her.
“No,” Ann said. “A, I don’t want to know. B, it won’t make any difference. And C, tomorrow is soon enough.”
“Yes. You’re right. I’m just anxious.”
“We all are,” she agreed. “Haley’s a mess, Josh is a basket case, and Emily keeps calling me. I even heard from Michelle Scroggins today.”
“The department chairman? Is that right?”
“Haley and I talked for half an hour this afternoon,” Ann said.
“Were they friends before the residency?”
“No,” Ann answered. “Haley came from Arizona, and Faith is from Texas.”
“I knew Faith was from Texas. She only has to open her mouth to know that.”
They both looked back through the window in the door, but neither could quite read the numbers on the monitor.
“This has been a hell of a run,” Ann said. “We’ve had deaths, I helped Ricky do a true cesarean section to save a baby while it’s mother died, and now Faith is threatening.”
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Peggy admitted. “I shouldn’t burden you with this, but this has been a ‘run,’ as you said. I have had dreams about patients, which I only had one other time in my career.”
“I’m sorry,” Ann said, “although it is reassuring that you are telling me this. We are all having our issues. I am most worried about Ricky.”
“Me too. But in recent days, I think he is better. I think he and Haley play off each other, and that seems to be a good thing.”
She and Ann strolled down the hall making small talk.
After Josh had regained some composure, he held Faith’s hand. “OK, you turkey, you need to stop this right now, snap out of it, and get out of here.”
He used her hairbrush to refresh her ponytail and tighten the clip. Her silky hair always lifted his spirits. He put her silver stud earrings back in. He picked up the Doppler and listened to Cori’s heart. “Hello Cori. You need to hang in there while your mother gets well. Don’t leave me.”
He adjusted her pillow and folded one arm on her abdomen. “Cori sounds good, doesn’t she?” he said to Faith. “I’m glad she’s OK. Now you have to get well!”
The sedatives were working. She didn’t move. Her face looked peaceful, an expression he hadn’t seen for days. It was obvious she was declining slowly, but he tried to blink harrowing thoughts away, trying to enjoy the moment. Her eyes were closed with ointment in them to protect the corneas. The tube was in her mouth, with wires and tubes all over the place. He had seen ICU patients before, and several of them had required a ventilator, and two of them that he had taken care of had died. While he was intimately familiar with critical care equipment, it was unwelcomed and repugnant now. How would this end?
A nurse came to check on her, made a few notes about the pulse ox, heart rate, and temperature. Her fever was back. In a moment, the nurse pulled a foil wrapped suppository out of her pocket. Josh tipped Faith up, enabling the nurse to place the suppository, then gently let her back down, rearranging her into a comfortable position.
“You have to knock it off with this fever thing. You’ve been in the hospital long enough that you should be past that.”
He sat and looked at her. Suddenly, he thought about Natalie.
“Hi, Josh. I hope this is good news,” she said.
“It’s not.” Josh felt the tightness in his chest he had felt when Peggy put her to sleep. “We had to put her on a ventilator. She just couldn’t do it on her own.”
“Oh, Josh,” Natalie blubbered. “This is getting worse!”
“Sorry. I tried to tell her, but she didn’t listen.”
He could hear shuffling in the background. “Josh, this is Jim.”
“Hi, Jim. She’s getting worse.”
Marianna came on also. “What happened?”
“They intubated her, mom,” Natalie said.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“They put her on a ventilator, Mom,” Natalie said.
“Oh my gosh,” she said several times. “Josh, is she going to get well?”
“I hope so. Since I’m coronavirus positive, I’m allowed to sit with her, for which I am incredibly thankful. If I wasn’t positive, I wouldn’t even get to see her.”
“Can you send a picture?” Natalie asked.
After adjusting the sheet and blanket, and with the pillowcase over the tube, he took a picture. It looked like she was sleeping.
“Where is the tube?” Natalie asked.
“Under the corner of the pillowcase.”
“Can I see?”
This time he moved the pillowcase, revealing the tube, the right-angle joint, the tiny hose that measured pressure, and the tube in her mouth to get the air out of her stomach and through which they planned to feed her.
Natalie exploded. “Look at her! What are they doing to her?”
“I didn’t want to show you these, Nat,” Josh replied. “Delete it from your phone, and don’t show it to your mom!”
Too late. “EEK,” Josh heard in the background. “That’s my baby!”
“She’s OK,” he said, even though he didn’t believe it. “She’s comfortable, her oxygen is much better than at any time since she came in the hospital, and she has time to get well.” Josh used the Doppler so they could hear Cori’s heart.
There was a long period of silence.
“Natalie said you have the virus too,” Jim’s voice was even and calm. “Are you OK?”
“I’ve had a little fever, but a few aspirins have taken care of it. I’ve had no cough, muscle aches, or breathing trouble. If I hadn’t had the test, I wouldn’t know anything was amiss. I wouldn’t go to a doctor, and I probably wouldn’t stay home from work.”
“We’ve heard that on the television. They are talking about patients not even knowing they are sick.”
Natalie took up when Jim paused. “She looks like her color is better and she has a peaceful look on her face. I see she has earrings in, and her ponytail is pulled back.”
“Yes, Nat. I try to keep her presentable. I know she would want that.” Josh’s voice was tremulous.
Natalie responded to Josh’s pain. “Are you OK?”
“What? My coronavirus? Yes, fine. My mind? No, blown.” He considered confiding his fears, but she was fourteen.
“Thanks for calling us, Josh,” Jim said. “Keep calling us.”
“I will.”
“Put those pictures away, Nat!” Jim ordered her sternly. The call disconnected.
Chapter 38
“Can you believe they want me to go in the hospital?” Brian blurted before the fellows’ closet door closed. He was well on his way to a rolling chair before the window rattled. “My Pain Management appointment was this morning, and the psychiatrist recommended that I spend two weeks in the hospital to get some intensive therapy and adjustment of medications. This is getting nasty, don’t you think? Two weeks!”
Peggy thought this was the most wonderful turn of events she had heard on Brian’s behalf. A real detoxification could happen, since Peggy doubted Brian had accurately reported his drug use. With addicts, the only way to know the truth is with blood test confirmation. As a captive, psychotherapy and behavioral therapy could happen more than once a day, with forced compliance on medicines, therapy sessions, and blocked street drug use. He could remain captive until some major improvement in his depression was evident, until side effects of aggressive medicines, many of which were combated with more medicines, had been controlled, and until the roller coaster of medicines and depression evened out. She couldn’t say any of that to Brian. Care was needed since Peggy did not know exactly what Brian’s caregivers were thinking.