Episode 9:

 

In My Prayers

 

ER nurse Chris Kirkpatrick entered the staff lounge, the effects of his hangover, a result of AJ McLean’s party the night before, still lingering. His headache pounded with such intensity he had even considered calling in sick, but decided it wouldn’t be very professional of him and came in after swallowing down a few Tylenol.  

As he opened his locker to take out his scrubs, he jumped back as a sheet of paper fell out of the locker and fluttered to the floor. Not thinking twice about the paper, Chris removed the scrubs from the hanger and closed his locker. It was then and only then his curiosity about the paper overtook him, and he reached down the retrieve it. He read the letter once, then twice, and finally three times before a scream got caught in his throat. As he ran to the corner of the room where a phone was located, the letter fell the floor, almost as forgotten as the person who wrote it. 

+++

The direct phone line into the rescue station began ringing at 12:02 p.m., as paramedic AJ McLean strutted on by singing along to the radio at the top of his voice.  

He sprinted towards the radio and quickly turned it off before he answered the phone. “Atlantic City Rescue Squad, what is your emergency?” 

“AJ?” 

“Hey, Chris man, is that you?” AJ asked, relieved that it didn’t seem like an emergency, just an old friend calling. 

“Yeah. AJ, man, we have a problem! You have to get to Lance’s apartment at 1066 Locust Avenue, Apartment 2A! It’s a major emergency!” 

“Back up, Chris, you need to tell me what is going on. You need to calm down!” 

AJ could hear Chris take a few shaky breaths before he answered. “I came to work today, and there was a letter in my locker.”

How in the hell is that an emergency? Did he get a fucking paper cut or something? AJ thought while waiting patiently for Chris to continue.  

“It was a suicide letter from Lance. Oh God!” The only sound now heard over the line was Chris’s heartbreaking sobbing.  

“Amelia!  Allison! Get over here we have a emergency!” AJ called over his shoulder. 

“Chris, man, just calm down. We are on our way to Lance’s now,” AJ assured his friend. “I will need to let you go now, Chris. Just hang in there, okay? We will be there soon.” 

AJ didn’t wait for a response before he hung up the phone, quickly hopping into the driver’s seat of the waiting ambulance.

On the other side of town, Chris sunk to the floor in shock. He felt disgusted in himself for not paying enough attention to his friend. Now look what happened. If I would have actually been there for him this would have never happened. What a great friend I am! Chris thought as he fought an internal battle to accept himself for what he had done. It was only a battle, but the war was yet to come. 

+++

AJ swallowed hard as he pulled up in front of 1066 Locust Drive.  It was a cute little apartment building with cheery yellow siding, two stories tall, with two apartments on each floor.  The tiny parking area was deserted, except for a blue Honda that had to belong to Lance.

 

AJ shut off the engine and climbed out of the ambulance. Allison and Amelia got out as well, and the three hurried up the walkway to the front door. They went inside and found themselves in a small entryway, a door on each side of them, marked 1A and 1B, and a staircase in front of them.

 

“Which apartment is it again?” asked Amelia.

 

“2A,” replied AJ, and they climbed the stairs to the second story, where another two doors greeted them, 2A and 2B.  AJ knocked quickly on the door to 2A.  There was no answer, so he tried the knob, which turned easily.  He pushed open the unlocked door and entered the apartment.  The two women followed him.

 

The inside of Lance’s apartment was a stark contrast to the cheery yellow outside of the apartment building.  It was dim; all the blinds and curtains were closed, and the lights were off.

 

AJ’s fingers explored the wall to his left, searching for a light switch.  A bad feeling made its way into his stomach as his fingers ran over the smooth plastic of the switch plate.  Slowly, afraid of what he was going to see when the lights came on, he pushed the switch up.  Light flooded the dim apartment.  The three EMT’s peered hesitantly into the room.

 

Nothing.

 

Letting out his breath in a shuddering gasp, AJ led his posse through the small kitchenette and living room.  To their right was a short hallway with a door on each side.  One door stood partway open; it was a bathroom.  The other was closed.

 

“He must be in the bedroom,” AJ said, surprised at how strange his own voice sounded.  He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared.  He was not particularly close to Lance, but it was still very frightening to be at the apartment of someone he worked with, knowing that when he opened that door, he was going to be greeted with a horrible sight.  Knowing that when he opened that door, Lance was going to be lying there.  Or hanging there.

 

With a trembling hand, AJ gripped the knob and gave it a turn.  The door opened slowly.  The bedroom was even darker than the rest of the apartment, but AJ could just made out a still form lying on the bed.  He quickly reached his hand out to the wall and found the light switch.  Flipping it on, he saw very clearly the sight he had been dreading.

 

Lance was on the bed, his feet dangling over the side, his upper body slumped unnaturally to the right side, his back to them.  A gleam of metal beside him caught AJ’s attention.  On a closer look, AJ realized that it was a gun.  Lance had shot himself.

 

Amelia let out a strangled cry at the scene that greeted her.  Allison gasped in horror.  For a moment, the three of them just stood there, frozen in place.  Finally, it was Allison who pushed past AJ and entered the room.  She carefully rolled Lance’s body over onto his back, revealing his face for the first time.  It was streaked with wet, sticky blood, which flowed from a small, round wound on the left side of his forehead.  A bullet hole.

 

A choked sob escaped Amelia’s lips, and she clapped her hands over her mouth.  At twenty-two, Amelia was the youngest and most inexperienced of the three paramedics on the scene.  She had not seen many cases like this, and the realization that this was someone she knew was nightmarish.

 

Allison, who was older and more accustomed to tragedies like this, took charge.  “AJ, get over here,” she barked.  “Let’s get him on oxygen right away.  Amelia, start an IV.”

 

“What?” AJ asked in disbelief.  “You mean he’s not…”

 

“He has a pulse,” Allison replied.  “Very weak, but it’s there.  Now let’s get going, guys, we might have a chance to save him.  Come on.”

 

A glimmer of hope shining within them, AJ and Louise sprang into action and hurried over to Lance.  Indeed, he had a weak pulse, and he was breathing, very slowly and shallowly.  By some miracle, the gunshot had not been fatal.  Not yet, anyway.

 

+++

 

Chris’s breath caught in his throat at the all-too-familiar sound of an ambulance siren nearing the hospital.  Please, God, don’t let it be Lance, he prayed.  He had been repeating this prayer every time one of the ambulances pulled up to the ER entrance, and so far, his prayers had been answered every time.  But he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that his luck wasn’t going to last forever.

 

Standing in the middle of the hallway, Chris watched as the ambulance pulled into the bay outside the entrance.  Allison Brooks hopped out of the driver’s seat, while AJ McLean and Amelia Caston emerged from the back.  Together, the three EMTs unloaded a stretcher and quickly wheeled it towards the entrance.

 

The double doors burst open, and in they came.  Jack Palmer came hurrying up from behind Chris, ready to take charge of the trauma.  “What-“ he started, but suddenly stopped, his mouth still hanging open, his eyes growing wide.

 

Chris squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what he was going to see when he looked down on that stretcher.  And when he opened them again, the one thing he was dreading to see was there – a pale, blonde man lying motionless on the stretcher, a bloody bullet wound one on side of his forehead.  He was almost unrecognizable because of all the blood that coated his face, but Chris knew who it was.

 

“Lance!  What happened?” Jack cried, his voice a hoarse gasp.

 

“Suicide attempt,” Allison said grimly.  “What room?”

 

“Uh…”  Jack didn’t even look at Allison; his gaze was still fixed on Lance, his expression shocked.

 

“Trauma 2,” Chris said, swallowing hard.  “Come on.”

 

He took a hold of part of the stretcher and helped the paramedics wheel Lance into the trauma room.  Jack, snapping out of his shock, hurried along behind them.

 

“What are his vitals?” he asked, trying to get back into professional mode.

 

As Allison gave him Lance’s vitals, nurse Addie Burke came into the room.  She had no more stepped inside the door when Chris ordered, “Addie, go get Elizabeth.”

 

“Sure,” Addie replied quickly, turning and hurrying off to find Dr. Elizabeth O’Brien.

 

“There’s no exit wound for the bullet,” Jack commented, after lifting Lance’s head slightly.  “That means the bullet must still be in his brain.”

 

“D-do you think there’s any chance that he’ll make…”  Chris trailed off, looking at Lance hopelessly.  His friend had shot himself in the head; there was no way he would survive.  Even if he hadn’t completely blown his brains out, the bullet had surely done too much damage for him to survive.

 

Jack didn’t reply, and Chris saw the grim expression on his face.

 

Addie returned a few minutes later with Elizabeth O’Brien in tow.  The two women burst into the trauma room, completely oblivious to the fact that one of their own was the patient they were about to help treat.  Addie got sight of Lance first, and the blood immediately drained from her face.

 

“Oh my God…”  Clapping her hand over her mouth in shock, Addie stumbled backwards, her blue eyes wide, her face white.

 

Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widening in shock as well.  But Elizabeth, always the serious, cool-headed, sensible one, kept her professionalism and immediately set to work.

 

“We need to get a CT scan,” said Jack, after showing Elizabeth that there was no exit wound for the bullet.

 

“Yes,” Elizabeth said.  “And page surgery.”

 

“Do you think one of the surgeons could save him?” Chris asked hopefully.

 

“Honestly, I doubt it.  But he’s made it this far; maybe it’s not as bad as it looks.  We have some of the best neurosurgeons in the area, so if he lives long enough to make it into the OR, there’s always a chance,” Elizabeth said, trying to be honest without making Chris lose all hope.  She knew Lance and Chris were good friends, and she knew how hard it had to be for him to be in that room right then.

 

“Do you want to go sit in chairs and wait, Chris?” she asked gently.  “It’s always very hard to work on a friend.”

 

Chris shook his head quickly.  “No, I want to do everything I can to help,” he replied.  “Besides, he’s not just my friend.  He worked with all of us.”

 

The others in the room, including the three paramedics, who stood near the door, watching in concern, bowed their heads sadly.  In his four years as an ER nurse, Lance had always been conscientious, enthusiastic, and hard-working.  He had always done his part to help save others.  Now they had to come together save him.

 

+++

 

Neurosurgeon Risha Veers was having a very normal day so far.  She had performed a successful tumor-removal on a forty-year-old man that morning and was feeling pretty good.  That is, until nurse Hayley Aldworth came bursting into her office without even knocking.  Risha looked up questioningly at the tall redhead.

 

“The ER just paged us,” Hayley said breathlessly.  “One of the nurses down there, Lance Bass, shot himself in the head!”

 

Lance Bass.  The name sounded frighteningly familiar, and, with a start, Risha remembered her encounter with him that morning on her way up to surgery.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” the blonde man said sheepishly. 

“It is alright,” Risha said with a shy laugh. “Here, let me help you,” she offered. But before she could reach for the picture and notebook that were within her reach, the man yelled at her to stop. Risha looked up at him in confusion, but withdrew her hand, which was in mid-reach for the picture. 

“Hey, don’t you work here?” she asked as she got a closer look at the young man who had moments before plowed her down in the hallway.  

Lance stopped what he was doing and looked up, a guilty look coming over his face.

“Yeah,” he said with a short nod.  

Risha smiled at him before extending her hand. “Risha Veers; nice to meet you. I know I had seen you around here before.  Plus, it was kind of strange that you were carrying a box full of stuff.  Are you planning on leaving?” 

“Yeah,” he said as he closed up his box and got up off the floor, extending Risha a hand to assist her in getting up.

“So do you have a name?” Risha asked with a slight grin, trying to get the young man to open up to her.  

“Yeah, Lance Bass.” 

“Oh, my God…” Risha murmured.  Just hours earlier, she had talked to him, invited him out for coffee sometime.  It was a big step for her to do something like that.  She had always been shy, and after John’s… 

Risha quickly stopped herself from thinking about the past, reliving her bad memories.  She had to focus on the here and now.

“They brought him into the ER,” Hayley went on, talking quickly.  “He’s still alive!  The bullet is still in his brain, and they need you to take it out and see if you can fix whatever damage is done.”

Risha’s mouth dropped open in surprise.  It was very rare for a person who had shot himself in the head to survive.  With the gun that close to their head when they fired, the speed of the bullet caused it to do severe damage to the skull and brain, more so than a bullet fired at a further distance would do.  But she was willing to give it a shot, to try her best to save Lance’s life.  There was always a chance.

“Okay,” Risha replied.  “I’ll do it.  Book a room and have them send up his scans.”

Hayley nodded.  “Thanks, Dr. Veers.  Sorry for barging in on you like that.”

“That’s alright,” Risha replied, giving the nurse a slight smile.  Hayley left, and Risha remained sitting at her desk, trying to slow her racing heart.  If she was going to do this operation, she would need to be calm and relaxed, not upset like she was now.  She closed her eyes and let her mind go blank, trying to block out the bad memories of her past and the tragic events of that morning.

+++

“So, how’s your day going, honey?” Ivory Harnett asked her boyfriend, Brian Littrell, as they sat at a two-person table at Sully’s, waiting for their late lunch to arrive.  As physicians in the ER, the two doctors usually saw each other often throughout the day, but that day, things had been hectic, and they hadn’t had much of a chance to talk.

“Good,” Brian replied.  “Crazy, but good.”

Ivory nodded.  “Crazy is right.  You know about Lance Bass, right?”

Brian nodded, his blue eyes wide as saucers.  “I can’t believe it,” he said, his voice hushed.  “I guess I don’t know the guy that well, but I never thought…” He trailed off as the little bell on the door of the café jingled, causing them both to look up.  Dr. JC Chasez came strolling his, his arm around the waist of a tall brunette dressed in a pair of flowered scrubs.  Brian recognized her as one of the nurses that worked in surgery, though he could not remember her name.

“Hi, Brian, Ivory,” JC said with a casual smile, stopping by their table.

 

“Hey, what’s up, JC?” Brian replied.

 

“Not much.  You know Mandie Smith, right?  She’s a surgical nurse,” JC said, referring to the young woman at his side.

 

“Sure,” Brian said with a nod.  “Hi, Mandie.”

 

“Hi,” Mandie replied sweetly, flashing them both a smile that brightened her hazel eyes, making them look almost green.

 

As the two of them walked on and took a seat at another table, Ivory leaned forward and whispered to Brian, “Jeez, how old is she??  She looks like she’s still in high school, for God’s sakes!  Chasez certainly goes for the younger women.”

 

Brian chuckled, rolling his eyes.  “Oh, come on, she can’t be that young.  She’s a nurse, isn’t she?”

 

“Too young for him,” Ivory replied.  “He’s pushing thirty, and she can’t be much older than twenty-three or so.”

 

“Ah, you’re just jealous,” Brian teased.  “Cause she’s young and has the figure of a model, and you’re a little ol’ shortie.”

 

“Uh!” Ivory cried defiantly.  “For one thing, I am not old!  I’m only twenty-seven!  You’re pushing thirty yourself!  And 5’3” isn’t that short, Mr. I’m Only 5’7”!”

 

Brian laughed.  “Chill, baby, I’m just playin’ with ya,” he chuckled.  Flashing her a grin, he added, “You know I just like to see you get all worked up.  And it worked – see, your eyes are already turning red!”

 

Ivory feigned a glare and refused to look at him, but he could see the corners of her lips twitching as she tried not to smile.

 

“Oh, come on now, don’t pout,” Brian teased.  “You know I love you the exact way you are.  I wouldn’t change anything about you.”  He saw Ivory smile, then impishly added, “Short stuff.”

 

“Argh, you!”   Ivory raised her hand to give him a playful smack, but Brian’s hand shot out first, grabbed hers, and pulled her in for a kiss.

 

“What was that for?” Ivory laughed, pulling away.

 

Brian shrugged.  “Just because I love you,” he replied.  Ivory smiled, and all was forgotten.

 

+++

Josh and Kylie sat across from one another in a small restaurant enjoying a nice dinner together.  They had both gotten the weekend off and decided to enjoy it together.  Suddenly, Kylie jumped up and made a beeline for the ladies’ room.  Because this was the second time during their dinner, Josh was becoming used to Kylie suddenly jumping up and running to the bathroom.  He was also becoming increasingly worried.  Without a second of hesitation, Josh quickly placed his napkin on the table and calmly walked through the intimate restaurant towards the restroom, thankful no one was waiting in line this time.

“Ky?” he asked as he quietly knocked on the door. No response came from inside, but a click was heard as the door was unlocked. Josh opened the door just wide enough for him to fit inside and entered the small bathroom.

“You going to be okay, Ky?” Josh asked while rubbing Kylie’s back as she again heaved.  

The pale, sweaty figure before him nodded and leaned back, resting her head on Josh’s shoulder. “I can’t take this anymore,” Josh heard Kylie whine. 

Josh raised his eyebrow in question.  How long had this been going on?  “What’s wrong? How long have you been feeling sick?” he asked, his doctor instincts stepping into gear. He looked into Kylie’s green eyes and saw anxiousness and fear. 

“A little over a week,” Kylie mumbled. 

“Over a week? Have you even seen a doctor this whole time?” Josh demanded. 

“Actually Josh, I did see a doctor, and she said it was normal,” Kylie explained, while getting out of Josh’s embrace and getting up out of the floor. 

“Oh, and what doctor was this?”  

“Melanie Reyes,” Kylie replied with a smug grin gracing her tired face. 

“Melanie Reyes? But she is the gynecologist; why would you go see her?” Josh asked as he tried his hardest to come up with an answer in his exhausted mind. 

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed suddenly. “Are you pregnant, Kylie?” 

Kylie rolled her eyes at her husband’s slow thought process and nodded her head, wondering how he would react now that she had broken the news to him.  

A grin lit up Josh’s face, and he grabbed Kylie into a hug. It was then that Kylie knew everything would be alright. 

+++

Risha went over Lance’s head CT’s and brain scans once more before going to scrub in.  From what she could see, he might be lucky.  The bullet had done damage that was certainly irreparable, but it had missed his brain stem, which would have killed him instantly, and gone instead into his cerebrum, the largest part of the brain.  She determined he must have pointed the gun at his forehead instead of the side of his head, for the bullet had gone in towards the left side his forehead and had traveled straight back through his brain, finally stopping near the back of his cerebrum, in the parietal lobe.  Because it had not hit his brain stem, the part that controlled his heartbeat and breathing, his chances of surviving were much better, but even if he lived through surgery, there was a good chance he would never be the same.  He could become severely impaired, both mentally and physically, or he could fall into a coma and never wake up, becoming a vegetable for the rest of his life. 

 

All the grim possibilities of what could happen to Lance were devastating.  Here was a young man, only in his twenties, with his whole life still ahead of him.  What, Risha wondered, would ever drive him to do something like this to himself?  She had experienced feelings of depression before; she knew what it was like to feel helpless and alone.  But even in her time of grief, she had never gotten to the point of suicide.  Things hadn’t always gone wonderfully for her, but even so, she loved life, and the thought of taking it away from herself like that was unimaginable.  She didn’t see how anyone could really want to do that to themselves. 

 

Surely Lance hadn’t really wanted to kill himself.  Surely he would take another chance at life if he could get one.

 

Risha was determined to give him that chance.

 

+++

 

“Hey, Brian, we’ve got a four-year-old male coming in with a high fever and vomiting,” said nurse Melissa Ruffino, as Brian passed by the nurses station.  He had just gotten back on duty after his lunch with Ivory.

 

“ETA?” Brian asked.

 

“Should be here in about five minutes,” Melissa said.

 

“Okee doke,” Brian replied, heading off to find an exam room that was clear.  He passed by Exam 4 and peeked inside.  The lights were off, and the room was empty, or so he thought.  He pushed open the door and went in to get thing straightened up and ready for the little boy that was about to arrive.

 

Suddenly, he stopped, as he noticed a hunched figure sitting on a stool in the corner of the room, facing the wall, his back to Brian.  Recognizing the man’s short, dark hair and light teal scrubs, Brian said gently, “Chris?”

 

“Go away,” muttered the nurse.

 

Brian did not obey; instead he stood there a moment, watching Chris in sympathy.  He had been there earlier when Lance Bass had been brought in.  Brian was not especially close with either Chris or Lance, but he knew them through mutual friends and from work.  Chris had a great sense of humor, and Lance had always seemed very nice.  The two of them had always been good friends with each other, and Brian knew that Lance’s suicide attempt had been a horrible thing for Chris to go through.  Why he was still there in the ER when Lance had already been taken up to surgery was a mystery to Brian, but he didn’t ask.  Instead, he just said, “I’m sorry, man.”

 

“Yeah,” came Chris’s hollow reply.

 

“I know how tough this has got to be on you,” Brian continued softly.  He knew he probably wasn’t helping Chris any, but he thought he should at least try to talk to him, to show him he cared.  “Are you alright?  Is there anything I can get for you?”

 

“No.”

 

Brian bit his lip, his heart aching for Chris.  He had never seen Chris look so miserable before; all the other times he had been around Chris, he was always cracking stupid jokes and making fun of people.  But now Brian saw his other side, his emotional side, the part of him that was hurting something awful for his friend right now.

 

“Okay,” Brian said finally, deciding Chris would probably rather be alone.  “Well, I’m sorry for barging in.  I didn’t know anyone was in here.  I’m going to go now, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

 

“Thanks, Brian,” Chris replied, putting two words together for the first time since his “go away”.

 

“He’ll be in my prayers,” Brian said softly, then turned, and walked out of the room.

 

+++

He’ll be in my prayers. Brian Littrell’s words of encouragement kept running through Chris’ mind. He knew he had sounded ungrateful and insensitive when Brian had offered his help, but at that time his grief over took his manners.

Chris had been dreading having to do this since Lance had been brought in, but he knew someone had to do it. He knew the hospital would contact Lance’s immediate family, but he knew that it would be best if someone close to Lance gave the horrible news.  

Chris forced himself to get up from the stool in the small trauma room and walked with heavy footsteps to the small sink against the opposite wall. The man staring back at him in the mirror shocked Chris. His normally bright hazel eyes were now red and puffy from crying. His face held an statement of intense sorrow, which made him look older than his thirty-four years. He turned the faucet on and as he bent down to attempt to wash the tear tracts off of his face, the dam broke again and his tears came together as one with the water. 

+++

 

Kevin Richardson sat in the lounge on the surgical floor, studying his schedule.  He had just finished doing an appendectomy and was relieved to see he didn’t have any other patients scheduled until later that afternoon.  Of course, an emergency could always pop up, but for now, he was free.

 

“Hey, Kev,” said Hayley Aldworth, entering the lounge and grabbing a bottled water from the refrigerator.  “How’s it going?”

 

“Just great,” Kevin replied, giving her a smile.  “I don’t have any patients for a few hours, it looks like.  Are there any interesting procedures going on right now?”

 

“Dr. Veers is about to start an evacuation surgery on Lance Bass,” Hayley replied.

 

Kevin cocked his head.  “Lance Bass?  Why, what happened?

 

“Oh, you haven’t heard!  He shot himself this morning!” Hayley exclaimed.

 

Kevin gasped.  “Oh my God,” he said slowly, shaking his head in disbelief.   Like many other members of the staff, Kevin was not really a friend of Lance’s, but he knew him fairly well from working with him in the ER, whenever he came down to do a consult, and through mutual friends. 

 

“I know,” Hayley said.   “It’s so sad.  He’s so nice!  I can’t believe he would do something like that to himself!”

 

“What time does the surgery start?” Kevin asked, glancing at his watch.

 

“Soon.  I think Dr. Veers is scrubbing in now.  Speaking of which, I need to go get ready.  I’m part of her surgical team.  You wanna observe?”

 

“Sure,” Kevin replied. 

 

“Well, go get scrubbed in then. I’m sure Dr. Veers won’t mind,” Hayley replied.  “See ya in a few.”

 

“See ya,” Kevin echoed and left the lounge to go get gowned up and scrubbed in for the surgery.

 

+++

“Mr. and Mrs. Bass, this is Chris Kirkpatrick from Atlantic City Memorial.  If you will please give me a call at 555-3254 extension 125, it would be appreciated. Thanks!”

Chris hung up the phone and stretched his arms in front of him, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He had tried to sound as cheerful as possible when he left the message on the Bass family answering machine, and he hoped they wouldn’t pick up on the pain that filled his voice. He had figured it would be best to give them the direct number to the lounge so it would give him a sense of privacy when he shared the horrible news with the soon to be grieving family.  

As he waited for the call to come in, Chris walked around the lounge, wondering what Lance was thinking in those final moments before the gun went off. Chris suddenly stopped pacing and stopped directly in front of Lance’s locker. Lance had once given Chris the combination to his locker “just in case he needed it”, but Chris had never tried to open the locker without Lance around, feeling like it was an invasion of Lance’s precious privacy.

But now it was different. His hands were shaking so bad he could barely turned the knob on the combination lock, but finally he succeeded and carefully flung the locker door open. Thinking back on it moments later, Chris realized it was the cleanest Lance’s locker had been in awhile. Lance wasn’t a very messy person, but usually his locker was decorated with pictures of his family and drawings from the young patients he helped treat; but now the locker was bare except for a pair of teal scrubs and a few medical books. Before Chris had a chance to react, the phone in the locker room rang. and Chris’ heart rate intensified. How would he ever be able to do this? 

“Atlantic City Memorial, this is Chris speaking,” he answered the phone professionally, hoping for some miracle that the person on the other line wasn’t a member of Lance’s family. 

“Hello, Chris,” the heavy southern accented voice of Diane Bass greeted. “It was quite a shock to receive a call from you. How is everything?” 

Now was the moment of truth. “Diane, we need to talk. You might want to get Jim on the other line.” 

When Chris hung up the phone a few minutes later, it felt like an immense weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He didn’t give much detail about what had happened to Lance, but he knew his parents had probably figured it out. Not more than ten or fifteen words were said by the couple the whole conversation. Chris could just feel the shock and grief radiating through the phone lines. This had definitely been the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, and he knew he had to go somewhere to get guidance. He sure as hell needed it. 

+++

“Blair Cartier, four years old, suffering from nausea and vomiting, temp 99.6, pulse 110,” said new paramedic Amelia Caston, as she helped push the stretcher down the hall.

 

“Exam 2,” Brian said, directing the paramedics into the exam room.  As they pulled the stretcher up alongside the gurney in the room, Brian glanced down at the patient, a tiny four-year-old boy with curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and plump, dimpled cheeks, rosy and flushed with fever.  He reminded Brian of one of those little angels you see on Christmas cards. 

 

“You need help, Dr. Littrell?” asked Melissa, coming into the room.

”Yeah, thanks, Mel,” Brian replied, as the nurse came in to help him move Blair from the stretcher onto the gurney.  “So, Blair, buddy, how are you feeling?” Brian asked gently to little Blair, whose blue eyes were wide with fright.

 

“My tummy hurts,” Blair moaned softly, his bottom lip quivering.

 

“Aww, that’s no fun, is it?” Brian asked sympathetically.  “Well, my name is Dr. Littrell, and I’m going to get you feeling better pretty soon, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Melissa, can you start him on a saline drip?  He’s dehydrated,” Brian said.  While Melissa prepared to insert the needle in the back of Blair’s hand, Brian said, “So, Blair, you like cartoons?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Blair replied, nodding slightly.

 

“Do you like Donald Duck?” Brian asked, as he listened to Blair’s heart with his stethoscope.

 

“Yeah,” said Blair.

 

“Oh boy!”  exclaimed Brian in his Donald Duck voice, which was one of his best impressions.  Blair grinned widely and did not even notice when Melissa slid the needle into his hand.

 

A few minutes later, a woman in her late thirties or early forties came running in, out of breath and panicked-looking.

 

“Are you Blair’s mother?” Brian asked.

 

“Yes, stepmother. Carrie Cartier,” the woman said quickly.  “Blair’s been running a low-grade temp all day, and then he started throwing up about an hour ago and couldn’t stop.  I was worried, so I brought him in.”

 

Brian nodded.  “You did the right thing, Mrs. Cartier,” he assured her.  “It’s probably just the stomach flu; there’s a pretty bad form of it going around here.  But we’re checking Blair out just to be sure.”

 

“Carrie?”

 

Brian looked up to see a boy who looked to be about ten or eleven standing in the doorway.  A sullen-faced girl about the same age stood next to him, and two more little girls, one about Blair’s age, the other a bit older, peeked curiously into the room.

 

“David, you and Meg take Sarah and Jackie over to those chairs across the hall and sit down.  I’ll be out in a little bit, okay?”

 

“Okay.”  The boy grabbed his little sisters’ hands, and he and the older girl disappeared into the hallway.

 

“My other kids,” Carrie explained to Brian.  “Their father isn’t home to watch them, so I had to bring them with.  I hope they won’t be any trouble.”

 

“Oh no, family is always welcome,” Brian replied.  “They look like well-behaved kids.”

 

Carrie gave an exasperated smile and was about to reply, when all of a sudden, a loud crash was heard, as the metal tray of supplies beside the gurney was knocked to the floor.  Carrie screamed, and Brian turned around to find that Blair’s small body was convulsing in a violent seizure.

 

“Melissa, start him on Dilantin right away,” Brian said.  Hurrying past Carrie, he stuck his head out into the hall, looking around for another doctor.  He spotted Ivory coming down the hall at that very moment and smiled despite himself.  “Hey, Dr. Harnett!” he called, grinning when she looked at him in surprise, amused at being called “Dr. Harnett” instead of just “Ivory” like she was used to.

 

“What?” she called back.

 

“Can you help me in here a minute?”

 

“Oh, I suppose,” Ivory said, heaving an exaggerated sigh and winking at Brian as she came up to him.

 

“In here,” Brian said, leading her into the room.  “Four-year-old suffering from mild temp, nausea, and vomiting.  I thought it was probably just stomach flu, but now he’s having a grand-mal seizure,” Brian explained quickly to her.

 

“Is that the mother?” Ivory asked, nodding to Carrie, who was standing in the corner of the room, watching her stepson with a look of horror.

 

Brian nodded, and the Ivory went over to Carrie.  “Ma’am, I’m Dr. Harnett.  How long has your son been sick?”

 

“Just this morning – he woke up with a slight fever, but other than that, he seemed okay.  He just got really sick about an hour ago and started vomiting, and now this!  What’s wrong with him?” Carrie asked, her voice shrill with panic.

 

“Do you know if he could have swallowed anything toxic?” Ivory went on.

 

“I-I don’t know.  I don’t think so.  We keep all our medications up high in the medicine cabinet, and the cabinets were we have our cleaning supplies are child proof.  Blair can’t get into any of them.”

 

“Let’s get a tox screen anyway, just to be sure, and order a chem panel, CBC, and lytes,” said Brian, nodding to Melissa to order to the tests.

 

Within a few minutes, the drugs that had been inserted into Blair’s IV worked their magic, and his weak body fell back limply against the gurney.

 

“Blair?  Blair?” Carrie asked frantically, from her stepson’s side.  Looking up at Brian, she asked worriedly, “Why won’t he wake up?  He was conscious and talking earlier!”

 

“It’s just an effect of the seizure, Mrs. Cartier,” Brian said.  “I think maybe you should go wait in chairs with your other children while we work on Blair, okay?”

 

“No, no, I want to be here with him.  He was so scared,” Carrie said, her eyes welling up with tears.

 

Brian patted her shoulder gently.  “It’s really better if you’re not in here.  Someone will come get you the minute Blair regains consciousness, and you can come back in then.  But for now, we need some space to work.  Alright?”

 

“Alright,” Carrie relented.  Brian showed her out to the waiting area, where her four other children were anxiously waiting.

 

+++

 

It pained Risha to see all the damage Lance had done to himself when he put that bullet through his brain.  His skull had been shattered in the spot where the bullet had gone, and his brain had swollen to the point where part of it actually had started to show through the hole in his forehead.  The bullet had traveled back through his brain and had been imbedded in the back.  It would take extensive surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage it had done.  Of course, some things would never be fixed.  Even if Lance survived the risky surgery, it was almost certain that he was never going to be the same.  He had a long road of recovery ahead of him, and that was the best case scenario.  Worst case – he either died or lived the rest of his life as an invalid, a vegetable.  And what kind of life was that?

 

Standing there in the OR, her scalpel in hand, Risha was determined not to let that happen.  She had to do her best; she had to help Lance through his, help give him his life back, give him another chance.

 

Please, God, help me through this.  Help me save him, Risha pleaded silently.  She had practically given up on God years ago, her faith shattered by a tragedy that had nearly ruined her life.  She never attended church anymore, never read the Bible, never even prayed.  But she prayed now, knowing that it could take one of God’s miracles to give Lance back the life he had tried to extinguish.

 

+++

 

Brian looked up in shock as the monitors attached to Blair suddenly went berserk.

 

“He’s in V-fib!” cried Melissa, looking at the heart monitor.

 

“Grab the crash cart,” Brian said quickly.  “What could be making this kid so sick?” he wondered aloud.

 

Just then, Ivory came running in.  “I’ve got the results of his tox screen!” she announced.  “He’s got toxins in his bloodstream.  He’s ingested something, but I don’t know what.”

 

“Where’s the mother?  Somebody get the mother,” Brian ordered.

 

“I’ve got the crash cart,” said Melissa, wheeling it up to Blair’s bedside.  “What should I charge to?”

 

“Charge to 100.  Ivory, go find his mother.  She’s waiting in chairs,” Brian said.  Melissa charged up the paddles, while Ivory hurried out to find Carrie.

 

“Clear!” Brian shouted, pressing the paddles to Blair’s chest.  His small body jolted, and to Brian’s relief, the heart monitor peaked, registering a heartbeat.

 

“What’s wrong?  What happened to him?” cried Carrie, rushing into the room.  A man, most likely her husband, followed her, gazing at Blair with wide, terrified eyes.

 

“Mrs. Cartier, Blair’s tox screen shows that he has toxins in his bloodstream.  He must have swallowed something.  Do you have any idea what it could be?”

 

Carrie and the man next to her exchanged bewildered glances.  “I… oh, I don’t know!” Carrie cried helplessly, wringing her hands.  “Brad, all the cleaners and medicines are locked up where Blair can’t get to, right?  There’s no way he could have gotten into anything.”

 

Brad, Blair’s father, sighed.  “Well, he obviously got into something, Carrie,” he said.  “Where were you anyway?  Weren’t you watching him?”

 

“Oh, don’t blame me for this, Brad!” Carrie cried defensively, throwing up her hands.  “You know I can’t watch all five kids every second!”

 

“You should at least have your eye on Blair and Jackie.  They’re only four!  You can’t leave four-year-old twins alone!” Brad argued.

 

“Brad, I didn’t!  I mean, I…”  Carrie broke down into sobs.

 

Brad’s angry face softened.  “Car, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, putting his arms around her.  “I know it’s not your fault.”

 

“Come on, Mr. and Mrs. Cartier,” said Ivory.  “Come back out to the waiting room with me, and we’ll try to find out what happened.  Maybe your other children will know.”

 

She led the couple back out into the waiting room, where the four other children sat.  Mr. Cartier quickly introduced Ivory to them.  Meg, Carrie’s daughter from her previous marriage, was twelve.  Brad had four children from his previous marriage – David, who was eleven, Sarah, who was six, and Jackie, who was Blair’s four-year-old twin sister.

 

“Is Blair going to be okay, Dad?” David asked, his blue eyes very serious.

 

“We’re not sure yet, Dave,” Brad told his son.  “The doctors think that Blair swallowed something poisonous.  Do any of you kids know what he could have swallowed?”

 

David and Sarah looked at each other and shrugged.  Jackie, who was too little to understand, just swung her feet and didn’t say anything.  Meg sat with her arms crossed over her chest, a solemn pout on her lips, and refused to speak.

 

“Meg?” Brad asked.  “Do you know anything about this?”

 

“Why would I?” Meg muttered, without even looking at her stepfather.

 

“Did anyone leave any medicine out on the counter where Blair could have gotten it?” Ivory asked, desperately trying to get some answers.  They couldn’t help Blair until they knew exactly what he had consumed.  “Or any kind of cleaner?  Was anyone cleaning the house today?”

 

“Just vacuuming and dusting,” Carrie said.  “And laundry.  You know, the usual housework.”

 

“Laundry?  Could you have left the detergent out where Blair could get it?” Ivory pressed.

 

“Meg, you put the detergent back up on the shelf when you were done putting the clothes in the washer, right?” Carrie asked her daughter.

 

“Yes, mom,” Meg replied automatically, rolling her eyes.

 

“What about medicines?  Were there any pills out for him to get?” Ivory asked again.

 

“No, I don’t-“

 

All of a sudden, Meg jerked up from her slouched position.  “Wait!” she cried.

 

Everyone turned to look at her.

 

“Did you leave pills out?” Brad demanded, his eyes narrowing.

 

“No, I… I…”  Meg’s eyes were wide and scared, and she looked guiltily at her mother and stepfather.

 

“What?  What did you do?” Brad asked, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

 

“I… I think I left the detergent out,” she choked out meekly.  “I-I was putting the clothes in the washer, and I poured the detergent into the cap, but then Lizzie McGuire came on TV, and I went to watch it, and… I guess I forgot about the laundry…”  She trailed off, looking terrified.

 

“You what?!” Brad exploded, grabbing onto her other arm and giving her a shake.  “You left a damn cap of detergent sitting on the washer, right where Blair could get to it?!”

 

“Oh, Meg, how could you be so irresponsible?!” Carrie cried, her eyes bright with tears.

 

“She probably did it on purpose, knowing her!” Brad yelled.

 

“Brad!  How could you say that?” Carrie gasped.  “Meg would never intentionally hurt Blair!”

 

“Meg hates Blair!  She hates all my kids and me too!  You know she does; she’s said it!”

 

“Shut up!” screamed Meg.  “I would never try to poison him!”  She burst into tears, and Carrie quickly pulled her into a hug, rubbing her hair soothingly.

 

“It’s okay, baby, he doesn’t mean it,” she whispered.  To Brad, she said, “Get away from us!  How dare you accuse my daughter of such a horrible thing?!”

 

“Fine!  I don’t want my children near her anyway!” Brad shouted angrily, scooping Jackie into his arms and grabbing Sarah’s hand.  “Come on, guys.  We’ll go wait somewhere else.”

 

“I’ll show you where you can wait,” Ivory said softly, leading Brad and his three kids away.  She got them situated in a different waiting area and ran back to Blair’s room to tell Brian what she had found out.

 

+++

 

Back in the OR, Risha was just finishing up Lance’s operation.

 

“Well, I think that’s everything,” Risha said wearily.  “I’m going to close up now.”

 

“You did a good job,” said Kevin, who had observed Lance’s long brain surgery.  “I think he’s got a good chance of surviving this.”

 

“I hope so,” Risha said with a sigh.

 

Her hopes were suddenly crushed when the monitors attached to Lance suddenly began to beep wildly.

 

“His pressure’s crashing!” cried Hayley.

 

“Oh no, not now!” Risha moaned.

 

“He must have a brain bleed,” said Kevin.  “We’ve got to find the source and fix it before it’s too late.”

 

Risha nodded.  She only hoped she could find the problem and correct it in time.  After all this, she couldn’t let Lance die of a brain hemorrhage.  “Come on, Lance, you’d made it this far.  Don’t die on me now,” she muttered under her breath.

 

The line on the heart monitor went flat.

 

+++

 

 

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