“I don’t know.” Ricky didn’t have anything to say. “But maybe if the clot comes out we turn this around quickly.”
“That would be fine by me,” Josh said. “The sooner the better.”
Ricky stood, left the room and was gone for a long time. Josh looked at his phone wanting to call someone, but couldn’t bring himself to press an icon. He finally opened a game of Bejeweled, but played poorly. He was relieved when Ricky returned.
“The first try failed. They are trying to go for a second try, but her heart keeps stopping.” Josh saw the tears in Ricky’s eyes, and stood.
“This is not good, Ricky. It’s not good.”
“Well, they aren’t giving up,” his voice cracked. “They were changing something in the injection equipment for the second attempt. I could see the clot on the monitor screen while I was standing in the doorway. It almost completely blocks the right pulmonary artery. The floor looks like a war zone.”
“The door is open?”
“Yes. They are all hot in PPE and lead aprons. There must be a dozen people in the room.”
“How long has this been going on?”
Ricky looked at his watch. “An hour and a half.”
“So, she could have brain damage if she wakes up?”
He shook his head. “We can’t think like that, Josh. We have to give them a chance to do their work.”
Memories of Faith flew through Josh’s head. “I will never forget her. I will never forget the crumpled paper in the trash can. I will never forget suppers in the hospital cafeteria. I will never forget holding her tight at night and waking up with her on my shoulder. I will never forget when we saw Cori on ultrasound for the first time. I will never forget our trip up Sandia Peak.” He looked up. A thick evil vacuum pushed into his chest. Tears were streaming down Ricky’s face.
There was a noise down the hall, the first time they had heard anything through the heavy waiting room door. Ricky scooted out. He was back in a flash this time. “They’re cheering. The clot moved. They are waiting to see how she responds to it.”
“Do you think she will survive?”
“At least they weren’t doing chest compressions. That’s a good sign.”
“Unless they are giving up.”
“They wouldn’t be cheering about that, moron!” Ricky said with a friendly punch on Josh’s shoulder.
“Duh. I guess not,” he said. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t think I can think.”
“We might not know for a few hours or even days,” Ricky said. “Depending on how quickly she recovers from this ordeal. Now it’s my turn. I don’t know what I will do if she dies. Haley will be a worthless mess, and Ann won’t know what to do. Even Emily has called me this morning. I think I should call her now.”
“They got the clot out?” Emily could be heard on speaker. “That’s good news. What happens now?”
“We don’t know yet. They are waiting to see how she responds.”
“OK, good. I would be a mess if she died.”
Ricky ended the call. Josh dialed Natalie, but Ricky had to speak. “Is this Faith’s sister?”
“Yes,” a timid voice answered. “I’m Natalie.”
“I’m Ricky. I’m Josh’s cousin.”
“Oh! OK! I’ve heard of you.” Raw fear came in her voice. “What happened?”
“Faith had a serious and sudden turn for the worse this morning and her heart stopped. They have been doing resuscitation efforts for two hours, but now she seems to be better.”
“Get your mom and dad, Natalie,” Josh blurted.
“OK, they’re here.”
Josh took over. “This morning we turned her sedation off because it looked like we could extubate her,” sniff. “In the process, she awakened and pulled her own tube out. That’s when her heart stopped. It took a long time to get her going again. They decided that she had a clot in her lung, so they took her to radiology where they got the clot out. It looks like she’s better.”
There was a silence. “Will she be OK?” Jim’s voice didn’t sound like Jim.
“I hope so,” Josh answered.
“Is the baby OK?” Natalie wheezed.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to see. But at least we might have Faith.”
“I understand,” Jim responded. “Do you think she’ll be OK?”
“I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Just keep doing your jobs and communicate with us,” Jim said.
“I’ll call later.” Josh ended the call.
Ricky led Josh through the labyrinthine halls and stairs back to the little ICU in Labor and Delivery. They slipped inside the door as Peggy, Ann and a cluster of others maneuvered Faith’s bed into its place.
Haley came up to Ricky and Josh, “We had to extubate her. The pulse ox insists she’s breathing well. She responds to voices but has not communicated with us yet.”
“Why do you think that is?” Josh asked as Peggy approached.
“It’s the morphine,” Peggy said.
“How do you know that?” Josh asked.
Peggy pointed to her chest. “Opiates make slow, deep breaths. And pinpoint pupils.”
Josh walked right up to her and opened one of her eyes. “Pinpoint is right.” Faith reached up to bat his hand away. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Peggy, “Now that’s a great sign!” He danced back to where Peggy was standing.
Nasal prongs found their way to Faith’s nose, the monitor was replaced on the shelf, and oxygen was connected from the wall. Pulse ox ninety-two percent on five liters of oxygen, pulse rate eighty-six, and a welcomed normal rhythm on the monitor.
“Oh my gosh, this is good,” Peggy breathed. “I wonder where Ann is?”
“Standing right behind you!” Josh said, snickering.
“Oh, there you are. Are you OK?”
“I don’t know. Let’s watch a few minutes, I’m thinking I might be.”
The monitor kept pinging along, the pulse ox reading steady. Peggy stepped up to Faith and spoke loudly to her. She opened her eyes but didn’t look at Peggy. “Can you wiggle your toes?” The toes wiggled just a little. “Can you open your eyes?” They opened and closed. “Can you take a deep breath?” She breathed deeply, grimacing. “Do you know who Josh is?” She turned her head toward Peggy but didn’t open her eyes. “Do you know who Natalie is?” Now she opened her eyes. She wheezed a few unintelligible words. “That’s good enough for me,“ Peggy stated boldly, looking at Josh. “Her brain is working.”
“I can’t believe this worked. I thought you were being ridiculous with the radiology thing, making us code her in an elevator, and crowding us in a little room dressed in PPE and lead aprons.” Haley, red hair drenched with sweat, was grinning. “I will never forget this.”
“This is a miracle,” Ann agreed. There were dark sweat spots on Ann’s scrubs. “This was amazing. I won’t forget this either, Haley. And Peggy, look at poor Josh. He is still recovering from the stroke he had when Faith took her tube out.”
Peggy laughed. “I’m sure that’s true. The poor guy. Coronavirus, Faith on a ventilator, Faith codes, Faith survives a usually-lethal pulmonary embolus.”
After an hour or so, it was time for afternoon rounds. Ricky allowed the murmuring and talking to go on for longer than usual, understanding the gravity of the day’s events. Even the medical students were bubbling with questions and comments. Emily and Haley were among them, exchanging raillery.
“News travels fast,” Ricky said. “No, strike that. Haley is involved.” Apparently, Haley didn’t hear.
As the conversations gradually declined, Ann began rounds. “We got delayed by Faith, so we have some catch-up work to do.” The hubbub didn’t stop. “OK, you guys,” Ann announced to get more attention. “Faith was extubated this morning and then coded. It turns out she had a ‘saddle’ clot blocking most of the right main pulmonary artery, which was removed in radiology. As of now, she’s extubated, has good blood pressure, has talked to us and to Josh. Peggy, I can’t believe you pulled this off.”