The Wife He's Been Waiting For

His breathing was shallow and rapid, and her own breaths were fighting against her, trying to go shallow and rapid, too.

Don’t quit now, Sarah. You can do this. “When my mother used to buy a bag of lollipops, my sister and I always fought over who got the red ones, even though I really wanted the green ones. But because Annie wanted the red, so did I. Do you have any brothers or sisters, Delroy?”

She was nearly at his shoulder now, sickened by the twist of his right arm. It was a bad break, easy to diagnose even from her awkward position. Not a compound fracture, though, thank God. No broken skin, no bone sticking out. But it would require surgery. She couldn’t even imagine how many bones had been crushed in his little arm, and there was no way to tell. “Looks like you’re going to have to use your left hand for your lollipops for a while,” she said, doing a second check of his arm just to make sure she hadn’t missed an area where the bone might have been protruding. Under here, in the dark, it was hard to tell, but her second check confirmed her first impression.

Pulling herself a little closer to Delroy, Sarah reached across his body, trying as best as she could to make an assessment of other injuries, but it was difficult, given that she was so far away and still in such an awkward position. She decided that once she reached his head she’d try to get over to the other side to do the same exam as she’d done on the right side.

“Pupils?” someone called from behind her. Somewhere not under the bus.

“Haven’t assessed them yet. Don’t have a light.” The voice was familiar, but it was hard to tell through the noise of the crowd.

“It’s on its way,” the man shouted. At that moment a small flashlight was thrust, with some force, under the bus, and she grabbed it, grateful that a medic had finally arrived on the scene. Now, if only she had enough room to push herself up to her knees for this. But she didn’t. This was an exam she had to do either on her belly or her side.

“Are you medical?” he yelled. “Do you need help under there?”

Was it Michael? It sounded like him, and she prayed that it was. She needed someone she trusted, needed someone who was calm to help her get through this. “Michael Sloan?” she called. “It’s Sarah. Sarah Collins, from the ship.” Gently pushing back one of Delroy’s eyelids, she flashed the light in his eye to see pupillary reaction. She studied it for a moment, then did the same for his other eye. Not responsive to light. A very bad sign. “I think we have a head injury here. His pupils aren’t equal and reactive to light. He also has a broken arm, not a compound fracture, though. At least, that’s the best I can tell. And that’s all I can see so far. Oh, and there’s not enough room for two of us.”

“Sarah,” he called, crouching at the edge of the bus.

She glanced at him for a moment, glad to see his face, even though it was streaked with worry. “I don’t suppose I mentioned that I’m a doctor, did I?” she asked, knowing full well she hadn’t. These days, if it didn’t come up in conversation, she didn’t bring it up. Even in the company of another doctor. Especially in the company of another doctor. That made avoidance all the more easy.

“Do you need a cervical collar?” he called back, rather than responding to her confession.

“To get him out, yes. And a backboard.” She did a quick check of Delroy’s pulse. Weaker. In her gut she knew he had internal injuries, too, some kind of bleeding somewhere, but she couldn’t get a good feel of his belly to check for rigidity. “And I think he’s bleeding inside, so I’ll need an IV set-up ready to go once he’s out of here.”

“But he’s breathing?”

“Shallow, rapid. Do you have a blood-pressure cuff?” she called, on the off chance that Delroy’s other arm wasn’t broken and she could take a blood-pressure reading.

Within seconds, a blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope were tossed under to her. But she was on the wrong side to use them, so she scooted all the way around the boy’s head and over to the left of his body, praying that his injuries there weren’t so extensive. A quick check of his arm revealed it she was safe to use the cuff, so she fastened it on, pumped it up then took a reading. “Damn,’ she muttered, not hearing a thing. She tried it again. “Eighty over forty,” she finally called. Deathly low. She desperately needed to get an IV into Delroy, to give him fluid volume to offset the internal bleed she guessed was causing his blood pressure to bottom out. “What are my chances for an IV right now, before we move him?”

“None,” Michael called. “We’ve got assistance en route, but it’s going to take a while.”

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