Doctors rushed into Wick's room, yelling orders for epi and to begin CPR.
They had been hopeful when Wick's heart started beating on it's own, but now
. . . it was hard to feel hopeful when the patient was almost dead on the
table.
After thirty long minutes of CPR and fibrillation, they finally got a
rhythm back. Hooking him back up on life support, Dr. Jacobs shook his head.
This was not good. . . . not good at all . . . he had to contact someone . .
.
"Nurse, can you please give me the file for Wick Lobo, please?" he asked,
rubbing his tired eyes.
"Here you go, doctor," she said, handing him the thick folder. He thumbed
through it until he found the ICD (In Case of Death) form. There were two
names and phone numbers listed.
"Kathleen Ryan, and Michael Bell," he murmured. Trailing his finger along
the page he located the phone numbers. Going over to the phone, he dialed
the first number.
"Hello?" answered a female voice.
"Miss Kathleen Ryan, please?" he requested.
"I'm sorry, she's not here. Can you leave a message?" she asked.
"Tell her to please contact Dr. Jacobs at the hospital regarding Wick Lobo
as soon as she possibly can,"
"Okay," Carla said, worry creeping into her voice.
Dr. Jacobs hung up the phone and dialed the second number.
§*§*§*§*
Michael and Kathleen were sitting on the couch talking about Wick when the
call came. It was the call they dreaded but somehow expected. It was Dr.
Jacobs asking them to please come down to the hospital.
Worriedly, they drove to the hospital, their minds away from the road and
focused on Wick. They reached the hospital safely and hurried to meet the
doctor. He was in the ER standing by Megan at the nurse's station. he saw
them and quickly made his way over to them.
"Hi," he said, shaking each of their hands. Won't you please sit down?" he
asked. They sat down and stared at the man who probably held Wick's whole
future in his hands. "Your friend flat lined awhile ago," he said. When
their faces registered shock and disbelief, he quickly finished. "No, no. we
were able to resuscitate him. But, it's not looking good. I, personally as a
professional, need you to read this paper, think it over, and sign it," he
handed them a form.
"Do Not Resuscitate?" Kathleen asked incredulously. What the hell–"
"Just please read it over. With your friend's condition deteriorating
rapidly, we think it would be in the best interest for all involved if we
simply let him go the next time. Only you two have the authority to make
that decision, so please make the right one," he advised as he walked down
the hallway.
"I am NOT signing this, Michael. No," Kathleen told him, standing up and
shaking her head. He stood.
"Neither am I," he said, taking the paper from her. He walked up to the
nurse's station and handed the paper to Megan. "Tell Dr. Jacobs that we
won't sign. We won't write him off like that," he said.
"Wait!" Megan said following him over to where Kathleen stood. "Uh,
Kathleen, can I talk to you?" she asked. she nodded and shrugged.
"Sure . . . I guess . . ." she said. Glancing over her shoulder at Michael,
she shot him a puzzled look. He shrugged. She followed Megan outside the
hospital and waited for the woman to explain herself.
"Look, Ryan, I–" Megan didn't get a chance to finish. The doors to the ER
were flung open and someone shoved hard into Megan, making her topple over
onto Kathleen. A horn honked loudly as Kathleen got knocked down hard into
the path of the approaching car. Megan screamed as the car slammed into
Kathleen's body...
****
"Oh my God!" Megan screamed. "Ryan!" she raced to where the woman's body
lay in a crumpled heap on the road. "Someone get a doctor!" Megan screamed.
The driver of the car hurried in the hospital.
Megan did a quick assessment of Ryan's injuries. She had a small laceration
on her forehead. Her neck was bent at an unnatural angle, and her jeans were
torn, revealing a long, deep lesion above her knee. She was unconscious, but
alive.
The doors banged open and Michael came flying out. "Kathleen!" he screamed,
dropping to the ground. He did a head—to—toe and yelled at the nearby
ambulance. "Get me a backboard and collar!" he yelled at them. A few seconds
later, they had Kathleen on the board and on the stretcher. They wheeled her
through the ER and to the trauma team that had assembled so quickly. They
wheeled her in through the double doors into a room that was being prepped.
He wasn't allowed in there with her, so all he could do was wait. Wait . .
. and wait . . . and wait . . .
While he waited, he was tortured with thoughts of a life without her. He
couldn't picture it. He didn't want to. Then suddenly something woke up
inside him.....
§*§*§*§
Inside the room the doctors were working frantically. "Establish oxygen and
get an IV in!"
"We have to cut theses clothes off of her,"
"We're losing her,"
"BP is dropping, heart rate slowing,"
"She's losing blood. Nurse, go pick up the O-Neg,"
"Put pressure on that wound!"
"Doctor, the contusion on the forehead is bleeding again,"
"Shit!"
§*§*§*§
Michael picked up the phone and called his mother. "Mom? No, no. I'm fine .
. . yes . . . Wick's doing okay. . . . no, Mom . . . it's Kathleen. She was
in an accident . . . no, I don't know . . . Mom! Listen to me! I need you to
bring down Grandmother's ring . . . yes. . . .thank you . . . okay, Mom. I
will. See you soon." he hung up the phone aggravated.
At that moment a doctor came out. "How is she?" he asked.
"She's just fine. She's conscious. She suffered minor injuries to the upper
left leg, and she damaged her neck muscles slightly. Uh, the small contusion
on her forehead is worrying me slightly, but it's all ready closing up. She
wants to see you," he finished with a smile.
He raced into the room. She was propped up in the bed staring at the wall.
When he came in. She smiled slightly. "Hi," she said in a weak voice.
"Hey," he said, sitting on her bed and smiling gently. "Do you hurt bad?"
he asked.
"No," she said smiling, "that's the wonder of pain meds," she chuckled.
"I'll be right back," he said, spying his mother through the window. He
raced out of the room. "Mom. Do you have the ring?" he asked.
"Yes, it's right here," she handed him a small velvet box. He took it
gingerly from her and kissed her on the cheek.
"Thanks, Mom," he said. He hurried into Kathleen's room and sat down gently
on the bed. "Kathleen, there's something I need to tell you," he said. She
smiled up at him expectantly. "I don't know how you're going to take this,
but . . I love you," there. He had said it.
"Her eyes welled up as she gazed at him. "Oh, Michael! I'm so glad you feel
that way!" she cried. "I love you, too. I have for as long as I can
remember," she said. He kissed her gently, relief sailing through him.
"You have been my heart, and my soul, and my life for the three years I've
known you. I have never been happier since you came into my life. I almost
lost you today, and I don't want to ever feel that kind of fear again. So .
. ." he said, pulling out the box. He opened it to reveal a simple diamond
engagement ring. She gasped. "Kathleen Ryan, will you marry me?"
