Darkness Before Dawn (37 page)

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Authors: Ace Collins

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BOOK: Darkness Before Dawn
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59

F
OR THE NEXT FEW HOURS, AS HER LABOR PROGRESSED AT A NORMAL RATE
, Meg thought mostly about Steve and how much he had looked forward to this moment.
Even though this brought a degree of pain, it no longer created feelings of hate.
She was fine now, lonely but fine. She could now remember and not want to die. She
could think of good times with a smile. She was healing.

Meg glanced over at Heather, who was almost asleep in a far chair. The combination
of getting up early for work and now having to stay with Meg all night had taken its
toll.

“Heather,” Meg whispered.

“Huh?” came the startled reply.

“You fogging out on me?”

“No,” Heather answered, rubbing her face, “I just had something in my eye, and I thought
that if I closed it for a moment it might find its way out.”

“Sure!”

“No, I’m serious.”

“Hi, you two lucky, off-duty nurses.” Jan’s greeting was typical of her cheery “it’s
time for a laugh” manner. After checking Meg’s vitals and the baby’s heart rate, she
announced, “I have
some good news and some bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”

“My baby,” Meg gasped, fearing the worst, “it’s all right?”

“Beating away at 140,” Jan answered.

“Then what?” Heather asked.

“Which do you want first?” the on-duty nurse asked again.

“The bad!” both Heather and Meg yelled back.

“Okay, Dr. Colvin has taken ill. Nothing serious, but he had to go home.”

“So what’s the other part?” Meg demanded.

“Because old Otis can’t be here, we’ve decided you’ll have to go home and have the
baby another time!”

“Sure, Greer,” Meg shrugged, “now that you’ve made your weak attempt at humor, tell
us what is really going on.”

“Didn’t you like my joke?” Jan seemed genuinely disappointed. “All right, here is
the real story. Otis is sick and he’s calling in a sub. The sub is Dr. Drew Meyer.
He just joined the staff, and if you haven’t seen him . . . well, suffice it to say,
he is a hunk. One look at him, Meg, and you won’t need any anesthesia.”

Meg was very disappointed Dr. Colvin couldn’t be the one to deliver her baby. He’d
delivered her, and she had such faith in him. After a moment of contemplating the
change, she looked back at Jan and asked, “Tell me about this new guy.”

“Well,” the nurse began, “he’s about six-foot-two, has these dreamy blue eyes, and
. . .”

“Not that,” Meg cut her off. “I don’t care what he looks like. Where did he come from?”

“Oh, that.” Jan sounded very disappointed. “He’s from Arkansas. I think he went to
Rice Med. I know that he worked in some highly experimental programs for a few years.
Dr. Colvin was as pleased as punch that we got him. The only reason he ended up here,
rather than a big-city hospital, was
that he had an uncle or someone who lived in Springfield who needed some kind of help.
Evidently, the old man didn’t have any kids, and Drew was the only one willing to
step up to the plate. When you see him, you won’t put me down for talking about his
looks. I mean, this guy is a real . . .” Evidently noting Meg’s bored expression,
she cut her observation short and continued with the professional run down.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re in good hands.” Jan couldn’t resist adding, “Oh, what
I wouldn’t give to be in his hands!”

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” Heather asked.

“No,” Jan answered. “Meg is my only patient right now.”

“Why don’t you go find another one?” Heather suggested.

“Okay,” Jan acted hurt, even though she wasn’t, “I can take a hint. I’ll go check
the streets. Maybe they’re filled with pregnant ladies in labor tonight! Later, girls!”
With a wave, she was gone.

“Can you believe her?” Heather asked.

“Sure,” Meg responded. “She acts just like you.”

The two women grinned at each other and waited as the time slowly passed and the contractions
grew closer and closer together. Eventually Meg became interested in a late-night
talk show, and Heather once again drifted off. Then a male voice brought both of them
back into the present.

“I understand that one of you is having a baby. Now which one is it?”

“Jan was right!” Heather said.

“By Jan, I assume that you’re talking about Nurse Greer. Now what was she so right
about?” the doctor asked.

Realizing what she had said, Heather attempted to cover up her embarrassment by explaining
herself. “Well, what I mean is that Jan said you were a good doctor.”

Sensing her explanation had backed her even deeper into a corner, she tried again.
“What she said was that you would be
here just when I needed you.” Satisfied that she had extracted herself from the hole
she had put herself in, Heather smiled.

“Why do you need me?” the doctor asked Heather.

“No,” Heather stammered, “I didn’t mean me. I meant
we
. When we needed you.”

The doctor cut her off and offered his hand. “My name is Dr. Meyer, but you can call
me Drew. Now, if you can remember, I’d like to know your name?”

“A-a-a Heather,” the nurse answered while gazing into his eyes. “Heather Rodgers.
I’m a nurse.”

“Congratulations. You know your name and your occupation. We’ll go for the birth date
tomorrow.” Smiling at Meg, he understatedly asked, “I take it you’re having the baby?”

“What was your first clue?” Meg groaned.

“Oh, I really had an unfair advantage,” the doctor answered, a gleam now evident in
his eye. “I saw a picture of a pregnant woman is a medical book once, it must have
been about five years ago, and you look a whole lot like that. You did pose for that
picture, didn’t you?”

“No!” Meg smiled. “Five years ago I was much thinner.”

“Anyway,” the doctor continued, “you can call me Drew, and your name is?”

Meg, taking the same tact, responded, “I have a feeling that since you’ve already
looked at my chart you know my name. But just in case you don’t know what a chart
is, it’s Meg.”

“The charts at this hospital are called Meg?” he asked, almost seriously.

“No,” Meg smiled. “I am! And having Jan doing stand up comedy is enough for one hospital.”

“Well, then, I will cut the jokes and take a look at you, Meg.”

After a few moments of examination, complete with a great deal of the expected poking
and prodding, Drew smiled and offhandedly remarked, “You’re right! You’re going to
have a
baby. As a matter of fact, pretty soon! So I’ll get some folks, and we’ll take you
to the delivery room.”

“Oh, my,” Heather sighed after the doctor left. “Jan was right. He is a hunk.”

“Heather,” Meg inquired, “were you working on your breathing exercises while he was
in here?”

Blushing, Heather turned her back to Meg and pretended to search for something in
her purse. A minute later, Jan reentered the room, took one look at Heather, shrugged
her shoulders, and stated, “I don’t have to ask what you thought of the good doctor,
it’s written all over your face.” Turning toward Meg, she then added, “Do you suppose
we can bring her down to earth long enough to get her to help me get you across the
hall?”

Jan’s request resulted in immediate action and within moments, Meg found herself in
the delivery room. The contractions were now very close together and much more intense.
She watched as a team of nurses, including Meg’s old friend Molli, hooked up monitors
to measure all her vital signs. She smiled when they finally started the fetal heart
monitor. As the machine echoed at a steady rate, Jan announced to everyone, “Told
you all that it was going to be a girl. Look at that, a pulse rate right at 145. You
got any girls’ names picked out, Meg?”

Meg just shook her head and then added her own insight. “Sorry, Jan, it is going to
be a boy.”

She knew she was just minutes away from holding her child, and everything was proceeding
just as it should be. Steve would have been so proud of her. She was doing this without
anything for the pain. Looking up at Heather, she observed, “You know, Steve always
said I was such a wimp when it came to pain. But look at me, I’m doing great. No problems
at all.”

No sooner had she spoken than she suddenly felt like someone had jabbed a pitchfork
into her side. She screamed twice and then groaned, “What was that?”

“That was pain, wimp,” Heather answered. “Now, breathe.”

“Coming down nicely,” the doctor said as he reentered the room and checked Meg’s progress.
“Did you say something a while ago, young lady? I thought I heard you way down the
hall.”

Meg shook her head, knowing her scream had probably awakened the whole wing. After
Dr. Meyer smiled at his patient, he looked toward Molli and said, “Okay, let’s disconnect
the external monitor and introduce the internal one.”

Meg immediately missed the clip-clapping of the baby’s heartbeat when the nurse pulled
the external monitor. The steady sound helped take her mind off the pain. Still, she
knew it wouldn’t be more than a few seconds before the internal one was introduced
and the steady beat would return.

After a few moments, she heard Dr. Meyer’s voice, muffled by his mask. “Why don’t
you go ahead and put the external back in place.”

If Meg hadn’t been a nurse, she might have been worried. But there was no urgency
in the doctor’s voice, and she knew that occasionally an internal just can’t be positioned
properly. Molli placed the external back into its previous position. But there was
no sound. Meg looked up and urged the nurse on, “C’mon, Molli, get it right. The baby’s
moved a little. Just find him. Surely after as many times as you’ve done this, you
can get it in the right place. You had it a while ago. Just find it again.”

As the seconds ticked by, Molli struggled to once again position the monitor and find
the baby’s heartbeat. Shrugging her shoulders at the doctor, she continued to search.
It had now been almost a minute and then she got something.

“Lub-dub . . . lub-dub . . . lub-dub.”

The machine and the heart sounded much different just a few moments before. Something
wasn’t right. That heartbeat was too slow. Meg counted then she looked up at Heather
and saw the worry on her face.

“Doctor, we’re at less than thirty,” Molli calmly but urgently stated. “We appear
to be . . .” She didn’t finish her statement. She didn’t need to.

Dr. Meyer already knew what she was going to say, and he was frantically moving his
hand around in the birth canal. “Nurse, get me some Betadine,” he ordered.

Looking around the room, Jan quickly replied, “I don’t see any, doctor.”

“There is some PhisoHex over there,” Meg jumped in, the nurse in her taking over and
attempting to control her fear as a mother facing the prospect of losing her baby.

“Okay, that’ll do. Hand it here!” the doctor answered as he reached to grab it. Refusing
to wait until someone told her something, Meg asked, “Is it the cord?”

“Yeah, Meg, it is.” Suddenly the doctor sounded like an old friend, not someone she
had just met. His manner, his eyes, and his relaxed control told her that she was
in good hands. She had faith in this man.

Looking back at him, she nodded and calmly said, “We had better go for it, hadn’t
we? After all, it’s our only real option. C’mon, get the knife out! I don’t care if
it kills me, cut me! Save my baby! I don’t want to hear the ‘dark music’ again.”

“What?” the doctor asked.

“Nothing,” Meg sadly replied.

60

O
KAY FOLKS, LET

S GET READY FOR A STAT
,” D
R
. M
EYER BARKED
.

Jan flew out of the room barking out orders. “You, scrub for a C-section on the double.
Molli, get me an anesthesia and a permit. Get Dr. Jones here and make it snappy. Come
on, folks, a life is in danger. Move it! Move it!”

Barbara Hankins had just arrived in the waiting room when all of the activity broke
loose. Grabbing Jan as she ran by, she asked “What’s going on?”

“It’s under control,” Jan answered. Then seeing Heather coming out into the hall,
she hollered, “Heather, tell Meg’s mother what’s going down!”

“Ms. Hankins,” Heather’s anxious greeting belied her obvious fear. “There’s not that
much to worry about.” Then she looked back toward the delivery room and added, “They
know what they’re doing in there.”

“What’s the problem? Is it my daughter?”

Shaking her head, Heather took a deep breath to calm herself down and then explained,
“It seems that the umbilical cord is wound in such a way that combined with the pressure
caused by Meg’s pelvic bone it is acting kind of like a tourniquet. It’s cutting off
the baby’s blood supply.”

After taking a moment to comprehend what she’d been told, Mrs. Hankins grabbed Heather’s
arm and demanded, “What’s going on? What are they doing? Is the baby going to die?
Meg can’t take another tragedy in her life. It would kill her. I think it would kill
me, too.”

“Don’t worry,” Heather’s show of confidence was immediately reassuring to the woman.
“They’re going to have to do a C-section and we all know that’s pretty common. Jan
is just putting the team together right now.”

“Where’s Dr. Colvin? Is he with her?” Barbara looked past Heather hoping to see inside
the room, but the door was shut.

“No, he’s sick,” Heather explained. “But Dr. Meyer is there, and he’s very good. I
mean, this is his specialty.”

The nurse didn’t really know if her last statement was correct, but she knew that
the words would help keep Barbara calm. Leading the woman by the arm, Heather suggested,
“Let’s go over here and sit down. After all, in a few moments you’re going to be a
grandmother. We need to talk about this.”

61

I
N THE ROOM, THE MONITOR WAS STILL REGISTERING A VERY SLOW HEART
rate. Dr. Meyer did the best he could to relieve the pressure on the baby’s neck,
but time was not on his side. Meg knew that he had two, maybe three, minutes left
and then, even if the baby survived, there would probably be brain damage.

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