There were a lot of harsh drugs that people came into our facility addicted to, but alcohol was one of the scariest. It embedded itself into the cells of the user and the withdrawal could actually kill a person. Luckily, we hadn’t had anyone who had gone through such bad withdrawals that they had died, but we had needed to send people to the emergency room before.
“I’ll keep my eye on her,” I promised.
The nurse for the morning walked in and Kaitlin went to give her report on the patients. I stood at the nursing station and looked out over the unit. It certainly was calmer in the early morning hours. Maybe I should give overnights a try sometime.
As the sun finally started to come up, the unit got busier and busier. I ended up in Brianna’s room for most of the morning. She was sick, really sick. I felt so bad for her as she continued to vomit time and time again. The doctor ended up running late and said he wouldn’t be there until around noon.
I gathered cool compresses, helped her take a shower, even sat with her curled up in bed and read to her in an effort to get her mind off of things. Alcohol withdrawals could be really bad, and I had a hard time watching others go through them.
“Tell me about your family,” I said as we sat on her bed.
“My husband, Greg, is so kind. I know it doesn’t seem like it because he left me here. But he loves me. We met in high school and had our three babies one after another. His father owns one of the ski resorts in town,” she said as she paused to sip her Gatorade.
“Oh, my parents manage a resort in town,” I added as we talked.
She didn’t really have the energy to respond to my input, but she did continue to tell me about her kids. Brianna wasn’t looking good at all, and as soon as I got her to fall asleep again, I was going to page Mr. March so he could put some pressure on the doctor. I really thought the doctor needed to come see her.
“Aubrey is my oldest; she’s five years old and loves to dance. Adrian is my middle child and horses are her favorite. Anna is my two-year-old and she’s really into princess…”
Suddenly, Brianna started to shake and her muscles tightened. She was having a seizure. I had been trained to handle these, and luckily, I remembered exactly what to do and I started to get her secured while I yelled for help.
“Help!” I screamed as I gently helped her down to the ground and rolled her onto her side. “Help!”
Erik was the first one into the room, and he grabbed her toothbrush and put it between her teeth as she continued to seize. I knew not to get in her way, but only make sure she was safe and wouldn’t hit any furniture, so I kept my hands in front of the bedpost and sat near her until her body stopped convulsing.
“How do I call an ambulance?” Erik asked. “Do I have to dial a number to get out?”
“There’s a blue button under the nurses’ station. Push it; the operator will ask what’s going on. They’ll send the doctor and call 911 for you. Where’s the nurse at?”
Just then Margaret came running into the room. I didn’t get to work with her very often, and I was already very unimpressed at how long it had taken her to get to our emergency.
“I was giving meds. How long has she been seizing?”
“Maybe 30 seconds or so.” I really didn’t know. Time seemed to be standing still.
“Her chart said she was drinking a fifth of vodka daily. I bet she lied about that. Go wait at the back door for the ambulance. They’re going to need to get in here quickly.”
Officer Pinter was running onto the unit as I went to the back door to wait. He was a police officer and had first aid skills much better than mine, so I felt a little relieved to have the nurse and him in the room with Brianna.
“Get the defibrillator, she doesn’t have a pulse,” I heard Margaret yell as Mr. March came running onto the unit.
Mr. March didn’t hesitate at all and ran behind the nurses’ station to grab the black, soft-sided box mounted on the wall. Erik moved out of the way but stayed standing behind the counter as Mr. March rushed passed. He had probably just reached the 911 operator by then; it was going to be at least five minutes before an ambulance would arrive.
My hands started to shake, and I leaned against the wall as I tried to listen to what was going on and watch out the window for the ambulance all at the same time. She had to be okay. She had a husband and a family. There were so many people in her life who loved her. I started to cry. If they were using the defibrillator, things were more serious than any patient we had ever had on our unit.
“She’ll be okay,” I heard Erik say as he came and stood next to me and watched out the window for the ambulance as I slumped down to the ground and put my hands over my eyes. “They know what they’re doing. She will be okay,” he continued as he tried to reassure me.
Erik was talking quietly, and I wasn’t sure if he was reassuring himself or me. Brianna’s room was filled with people and I couldn’t hear what was happening over all of their voices. I was scared. Terrified, really. She was my age. Sure, she had a much different life than me; she was married with three kids, but Brianna was only twenty-four years old. She couldn’t die. She just couldn’t.
Erik grabbed one of the nurses to open the door and then held it as the ambulance pulled right up to the building. They had all their gear ready and looked serious as they rushed inside.
“Room two,” he said as he pointed to Brianna’s room.
The other medic pulled the stretcher out of the vehicle and brought it into the hallway. I was terrified. Brianna wasn’t someone I knew well and I obviously didn’t know her enough to love her. But there were people who loved her; there were three little girls who would forever grow up without a mother if Brianna died. I couldn’t take the thought of it.
Within a couple of minutes, the stretcher was being wheeled out and one medic was delivering chest compressions while the other and Officer Pinter pushed the gurney out to the ambulance. Her skin was pale and grayish in color. I feared she was gone and slid back down to the ground in tears. I had never seen a dead person before.
My emotions were so raw at the possibility that I had done something wrong. If I had called the doctor sooner, maybe she would have been all right. The guilt was eating me alive.