“Really?”
“That’s what they say,” she said. Her pager buzzed. “Damn, it’s getting busy.” She pushed a button and called upstairs, and then she was gone again.
Within the hour, the hospital was crowded and frantic. The ER was admitting patients at a hectic pace, keeping everyone in radiology busy. David called in another tech so he and I could cover the ER while everyone else attended to outpatients and inpatients.
Whatever it was, the whole town seemed to be going crazy. Car accidents, fights, and a fast-spreading virus had hit at the same time. On my sixth trip to the ER, I passed the radiology waiting room and saw a group of people crowded around the flat-screen television on the wall.
“David?” I said, signaling for him to join me in front of the waiting room. He looked in through the wall of glass, noting the only seated person was a man in a wheelchair.
“Yeah?”
“I have a bad feeling about this.” I felt sick watching the updates on the screen. “They were talking about something like this on the radio this morning.”
“Yeah. They were reporting the first cases here about half an hour ago.”
I stared into his eyes. “I should leave to try to catch up to my girls. They’re halfway to Anderson by now.”
“As busy as we are, no way is Anita going to let you leave. Anyway, it’s highly contagious, but disease control maintains that it’s just a virus, Scarlet. I heard that those that got the flu shot are the ones affected.”
That one sentence, even unsubstantiated, immediately set my mind at ease. I hadn’t had a flu shot in three years because I always felt terrible afterward, and I’d never gotten one for the girls. Something about vaccinating for a virus that may or may not protect against whatever strain came through didn’t sit well with me. We had enough shit in our bodies with hormones and chemicals in our foods and everyday pollutants. It didn’t make sense to subject ourselves to more, even if the hospital encouraged it.
Just as David and I finished up our last batch of portable X-rays in the ER, Christy rounded the corner, looking worn.
“Has it been as busy down here as it’s been up there?”
“Yes,” David said. “Probably worse.”
“Can you still do that port for me?” Christy said, her eyes begging.
I looked to David, and then back at Christy. “The way things are going, if I take that pager, I’ll be stuck up there until quitting time. They really need me down here.”
David looked at his watch. “Tasha comes in at three thirty. We can handle it until then.”
“You sure?” I asked, slowly taking the pager from Christy.
David waved me away dismissively. “No problem. I’ll take the pager from you when Tasha gets here so you can go home.”
I clipped the pager to the waistband of my scrubs, and headed upstairs, waving good-bye to Christy.
She frowned, already feeling guilty. “Thank you very, very much!”
I passed Chase for the umpteenth time. As the hours passed, he’d looked increasingly nervous. Everyone was. From the looks of things inside the ER, it seemed like all hell was breaking loose outside. I kept trying to sneak peeks at the television but once I finished one case, the pager would go off again to direct me to another.
Just as I had anticipated, once I arrived on the surgery floor, there would be no leaving until David relieved me at 3:30. Case after case, I was moving the C-arm from surgery suite to surgery suite, sometimes moving a second one in for whomever was called up for a surgery going on at the same time.
In one afternoon I saw a shattered femur, two broken arms, and a broken hip, and shared an elevator with a patient in a gurney accompanied by two nurses, all on their way to the roof. His veins were visibly dark through his skin, and he was covered in sweat. From what I could make of their nervous banter, the patient was being med-flighted out to amputate his hand.
My last case of the day was precarious at best, but I didn’t want to have to call David up to relieve me. My girls were out of town with their father, and David had a pretty wife and two young sons to go home to. It didn’t make sense for me to leave on time and for him to stay late, but I had already logged four hours of overtime for the week, and that was generally frowned upon by the brass.
I walked past the large woman in the gurney, looking nervous and upset. Her hand was bandaged, but a large area was saturated with blood. I remembered her from the ER, and wondered where her family was. They all had been with her downstairs.
Angie, the circulation nurse, swished by, situating her surgical cap. It was covered in rough sketches of hot-pink lipsticks and purses. As if to validate her choice of head cover, she pulled out a tube of lip gloss and swiped it across her lips. She smiled at me. “I hear Chase has been asking about you.”
I looked down, instantly embarrassed. “Not you, too.” Was everyone so bored that they had nothing better to do than fantasize about my non-love life? Was I that pathetic that a prospect for me was so exciting?
She winked at me as she passed. “Call him, or I’m going to steal him from you.”
I smiled. “Promise?”
Angie rolled her eyes and smiled, but her expression immediately compressed. “Damn! Scarlet, I’m sorry, your mom is on line two.”
“My mom?”
“They transferred her call up a couple of minutes before you came in.”
I glanced at the phone, wondering what on earth she would be calling me at work about. We barely spoke at all, so it must have been important. Maybe about the girls. I nearly lunged for the phone.
“Hello?”
“Scarlet! Oh, thank God. Have you been watching the news?”
“A little. We’ve been slammed. From the few glimpses I’ve gotten, it looks bad. Did you see the reports of the panic at LAX? People were sick on some of the flights over. They think that’s how it traveled here.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Nothing ever happens in the middle of the country.”
“Why did you call, then?” I said, confused. “Are the girls okay?”
“The girls?” She made a noise with her throat. Even her breath could be condescending. “Why would I be calling about the girls? My kitchen floor is pulling up in the corner by the refrigerator, and I was hoping you could ask Andrew to come fix it.”
“He has the girls this weekend, Mother. I can’t really talk right now. I’m in surgery.”