EMS Heat 10 - In His Hero's Shadow (2 page)

Damn Chauncey. Damn his superior attitude. And most of all, damn him for being so appealing despite all those faults. No matter how hard he tried, Brody had yet to find a flaw in the nurse’s physical appearance.

A hum of arousal went through Brody as an image of Chauncey popped into his head. From his dark, almost midnight hair to his deep, blue eyes and cover model good looks, he was the perfect male specimen. It didn’t hurt that he came from one of the richest families in the nation either.

Not that Brody gave a rat’s ass about how much money a guy made. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice that Chauncey had a refined edge to him. It was obvious from his impeccable table manners, excellent grammar, perfect posture and elitist attitude that he’d been raised by the best money could buy.

Brody, on the other hand, grew up in a culture of weekend bonfire parties, Friday night football games and public school education. He knew that put him in a completely different league than Chauncey. Hell, the two of them weren’t even on the same planet.

“How come you’re nothing like your cousin?” Brody asked, not opening his eyes.

 

“What do you mean?”

“Even though you were both raised in the same environment, you still act more like…well, the rest of us.”

“And Chauncey doesn’t?”

Brody cracked open one lid. “No, you’re normal where he acts so privileged you’d think he had a branch from the Kennedy family tree stuck up his ass.”

Kiefer let out a snort of laugher. “God, I don’t know where you come up with some of these terms.”

“It fits though.”
“Not, really. I hate to break it to you, but this hate-hate thing you have going with Chauncey is just as much your fault.”

Outraged, Brody fully opened his eyes as he sat up straighter. “How in the hell do you figure that?”

“Don’t play coy with me. We both know you go out of your way to piss him off.”

Brody briefly considered denying that, but decided to just keep his mouth closed. He’d never been a liar before so there was no reason to start. Besides, he had a feeling Kiefer would see right through whatever excuse he came up with.

“Only because he makes it so much fun. Seriously, who could resist? The look of shock on his face when I deliver a zinger is just priceless. Evenyouhave to admit that.”

Kiefer turned into Mrs. Roberts’ neighborhood. “Are you sure that’s the only reason why you’re doing it?”

Brody slowly shook his head, confused at the weird turn in the conversation. “What other reason could there be?”

“All I’m saying is sometimes you two are almost too vocal about your dislike for each other.” “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

 

“You know how they say there’s a thin line between love and hate.”

“They also say that McDonald’s is bad for you, but you don’t see me giving up myMcNuggets,” Brody snapped.

The corners of Kiefer’s lips twitched. “Did you just compare my cousin to fast food?”

“Yeah, and make sure you share that piece of info next time you see him. I would love to see how Mr. Country Club reacts to that.”

“That’s not fair. Chauncey is separated from our family, just as I am. In fact, I just found out that they cut off all financial support and are refusing to speak to him.”

Brody froze, shocked by that bit of information. “Since when?”

“Since he sided with me. It was already bad enough that he was gay, but when he went so far as to support me when I stood up to my parents, the entire family turned their backs on Chauncey.”

Some of Brody’s animosity slipped, replacing it with respect. “Wow, that’s huge. I know how it feels to be cut off from family.”

While Brody still had his mother—at least to a certain extent—the rest of his own family hadn’t bothered with him in nearly a decade. While it’d been a while, that rejection still held the same sting.

They reached Mrs. Roberts’ house, dropping the conversation as they both got out and began to collect their equipment. As they walked up the wheelchair ramp, Brody’s heart broke as he noticed new bullet holes marring the elderly lady’s siding. Her home had once been in a pretty decent neighborhood. As the economy and city fell on hard times, crime had continued to creep into more parts of Flint. Now, Mrs. Roberts lived in one of the worst areas.

Her caregiver met them at the door. She’d been with Mrs. Roberts for years so she recognized Kiefer and Brody immediately.

“Thank God it’s you boys. While I love the other crews, too, she really loves you two the best.” “How is she doing today?” Brody asked as they struggled to get the cot through the front door.

After a couple of jiggles, they managed to get it inside her tiny, cramped living room. The normal furniture had been pushed aside to make room for a hospital bed, which included various other pieces of medical equipment.

The caregiver shook her head. “Not well at all. I’ve had to give her numerous breathing treatments and her sugar has been low.”

“How low?” Brody demanded, alarmed.

It was bad enough that her COPD was acting up. The last thing they needed was for her to go into diabetic shock on top of it. He exchanged concerned looks with Kiefer.

“It’s so low, the meter won’t even read it,” the caregiver confessed.

He glanced down at his patient, his gut clenching when he noticed the glassy expression in her light blue eyes. Reaching out, he touched her paper-thin skin, wincing as he noted how cold and clammy it felt.

Brody quickly started an IV, using some of the blood to test the levels on his own machine. When all he got was a blinkingLowlight, too, his heart raced. Shit, not good at all.

He and Kiefer began to work in perfect sync, getting a line started, the patient hooked up to the monitor and some oxygen started. Brody pushed some glucose through the IV, but it didn’t seem to help. If anything, Mrs. Roberts appeared paler.

“Let’s get moving,” Kiefer said as he began to stuff their supplies back into the jump bag.

Brody nodded his agreement as he tried to calculate how long it would take them to get to the ER. He guessed it would be around five minutes, but that was still too long for his comfort.

They put her onto the cot and wheeled her out of the overcrowded home. Once they reached the rig, Kiefer nodded to open the rear doors. “Here, let me drive. If she wakes up it may do her some good to see you.”

Brody helped load in the cot before hopping into the ambulance. Kiefer shut the doors and made his way over to the driver’s seat.

As the rig began to back out, Brody took another set of vitals, his heart sinking as he noted her breathing rate had dropped to nearly nothing.

He grabbed a rescue breather and assisted with ventilations, all the while keeping a wary eye on the heart monitor. While he hated to admit it, even to himself, they would be lucky if Mrs. Roberts didn’t go into full arrest before they got her to the hospital.

As the ambulance rushed down the road, the lights and sirens going, Brody spoke soothing, encouraging words to his patient. He didn’t even know for certain if she could hear them or not, but he knew he had to at least make the effort.

When the familiar site of St. Anthony’s came into view, Brody was so relieved, he would have wept if he’d been the kind to give into tears. Giving the bag another squeeze, he murmured, “Hold on, sweetie. We’re almost there.”

Kiefer pulled into the bay and raced around to the back of the rig. As he opened the rear doors, the heart monitor let out a long beep.
“No,” Brody cried in protest.

He turned to look at the screen even though he knew he wouldn’t like what he saw. When he spotted the straight line, his heart sank even lower. He began to do compressions as a handful of the ER staff rushed out to help.

It wasn’t easy to do CPR while crawling from the back of the rig, but Brody managed. Once they got out, Brody braced his feet on the bottom rail of the cot so he could continue compressions while they wheeled in the patient.

Kiefer began to rattle off the report, which was a good thing since Brody was already feeling winded. Running a full arrest was always a workout no matter how fit the EMS person may be. Sweat began to trickle down his back as a burning sensation built up in his arms and his shoulders screamed for relief.

“Come on, you can beat this,” he urged the patient, his words coming out in gasps.

They wheeled the cot into the largest trauma room since it had the most space to hold all the staff. Then the hospital personnel began to assist in the code. As always, a full arrest was equal combinations of a highly orchestrated dance and fucked up chaos.

Mrs. Roberts’ clothes were cut away as X-rays were shot, additional IVs started, defibrillation pads put in place, an intubation tube inserted and more drugs were pushed.

The entire time, Brody continued with the compressions. Not only did he not want to leave Mrs. Roberts’ side, but none of the staff moved forward to relieve him. A lot of them saw a medic as nothing more than trained muscles. Usually that sort of assessment annoyed Brody, but at that moment he was too upset about losing his patient to care.

After what seemed like forever, yet not long enough, the lead doctor glanced at the clock. “How long have we been working this?”
“Forty minutes,” a nurse replied.

As soon as he heard that, Brody knew it was over. He continued CPR even though he knew it was an exercise in futility. All other activity in the room ceased as the rest of the medical personnel waited to hear the doctor’s order.

Letting out a sigh, the doctor said, “Okay, people. Let’s call this. Time is nineteen thirty-five.”

Brody pulled his hands back, but didn’t step away as he gazed down at what had been his favorite patient. She didn’t even look like herself anymore. All the procedures had given her face a bloated appearance. The tape holding the endotracheal tube in place further marred her features.

Yet, some things remained the same. Her nails were still polished and impeccably filed. Her graying hair was still pulled into a French twist. Most bittersweet of all—she still wore her wedding ring…the one that she’d once confided had never left her finger since the day she married.

Kiefer came up behind Brody and put a hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing else we could have done for her.”

Brody shook his head, his gaze still resting on Mrs. Roberts. “I should have anticipated her respirations would have dropped that quickly. If I had, then maybe I would have been more prepared for the full arrest.”

“You followed protocol and did everything right. We’re medics, not psychics.”

God, how Brody wanted to believe that. He really, really did. Yet some part of him still couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he could have done things better. Maybe if he’d made wiser choices in his treatment she would still be alive.

Kiefer gave Brody’s shoulder a gentle tug. “Come on. We need to write our report and clean the rig.”
“Who will take care of her?”

It was a stupid question. Brody knew full well the hospital’s procedures for preparing the deceased. It just didn’t sit right with him to leave her. After all, she had requestedhim. So shouldn’t he see her through to the end?

“It’s okay, they’ll make sure she’s treated right,” Kiefer urged.

This time when Kiefer tugged, Brody allowed his partner to pull him away. He gave one last regretful glance to his patient before he peeled off his examination gloves, tossed them in the garbage and then followed Kiefer back to the EMS room.

As they walked in, Brody’s attention drifted to the table and the now empty chair that Chauncey sat in earlier. He wondered if the more experienced trauma nurse would have failed Mrs. Roberts.

Brody sank in the chair. His body felt numb as his brain tried hard to process all the emotions swirling through him. Anger, hurt, disappointment, plus the normal adrenaline crash that always followed a full arrest vied for center stage in his mind.

“Somebody needs to tell her husband,” Brody finally said.

Kiefer poured him a cup of coffee and brought it over. “I’m sure somebody will go over to his nursing home to inform him.”

Not that Mr. Roberts would remember the conversation. One of the reasons he had been moved from his own home was because he was in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s.

“She got her wish.” Brody took a sip, barely registering the slightly bitter taste.

 

“What was that?”

“She didn’t want to live longer than her husband.” Brody gave a sad chuckle. “She told me that she didn’t know how to survive without him.”

“I guess that makes sense. Ray and I have only been together for a little while and I know I’d be lost if anything were to happen to him.”

A pang of hurt sliced through Brody. Yeah, he knew from personal experience what losing a loved one could do to somebody. He’d seen it bring out the worst and the best in people.

“And yet, Chauncey seems to think that we all should have somebody special in our lives,” Brody snorted. “He doesn’t realize how much it hurts to be left behind.”

Kiefer’s gaze softened. “He doesn’t know about what happened to your family. Maybe you should tell him.”

“Why? With as much as he hates me, the last thing he would want is to have to hear about my life.”

“I know he can be mean sometimes, but so can you. Have you even once had a civil conversation with him?”

Brody fiddled with the lip of his cup. “Not unless it concerns you.”

“Why don’t you try to be nice to him? I know my cousin. He would be very open if you just give him the chance.”

“I’m sure he’s just dying to go slumming with me.”

 

“Has Chauncey ever once held it over your head that he has more money than you?”

After mulling that over for a moment, Brody had to admit that Chauncey had never been guilty of at least that crime. “No, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t thinking it. Besides, I’ve seen the guys he picks up at bars. He always goes for the big, smooth, rich types. I’ve never seen him hook up with somebody like me.”

Kiefer narrowed his eyes. “Who ever said anything about you guys getting together that way? I was just pointing out that you two should be more civil to each other.”

Heat came over Brody’s face as he realized just how revealing his little slip-up was. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as panic made him stupid. “I…what I mean is…I was just pointing out what type of people Chauncey likes to hang out with. If he’s only friendly with his hook-ups, that’s not my fault.”