The door to the lobby slammed shut as the screeching wheels of a stretcher echoed on the floor. Footsteps rushed, chasing every minute, every second to spare. In the hands of a ticking clock, one life hung in the balance.
"What happened?" the doctor asked, peering at the patient as the medical team hurried the stretcher into the emergency room. One of them took a small flashlight and checked the patient's eyes.
"Give me the assessment!"
"Her pupils are equal and reactive!"
"Blunt force trauma to the head, chest, and abdomen!" a male nurse shouted, connecting plastic tubes and intravenous needles to the patient's skin. "Persistent hypotension after two units of saline!"
Inside the emergency room, the team worked feverishly, not wasting a moment in their battle to save Aveline. A female nurse grasped Aveline's wrist, palpating the pulse. "Pulse is thready at 130!" she announced, indicating an abnormal pulse rate with signs fluctuating between high and low.
"Miss? Can you hear me? What's your name?" The doctor checked for any sign of consciousness, but the reply was only shallow breathing. "She's poorly responsive!" he observed. Suddenly, the monitor beeped. They connected Aveline to the machine to analyze the results.
Standing near her head, a male doctor called for supplies. "I need some 4x4s to control the scalp bleeding." Donning white elastic gloves passed to him by a nurse, he assessed further, "Probably multiple fractures!" After another check, he noted, "She is bleeding in her chest!"
They tore up Aveline's clothes, cutting off the edges, wiping away the dirt, and compressing the wounds to prevent further blood loss.
A long beep echoed; the team turned their heads towards the monitor, alarmed at what they saw. The lines on the screen gradually dropped; the sound signaled danger. Aveline was losing more blood, and her heart rate plummeted into shock.
The doctors sprang into action. "Up to two fluid boluses!" Administering fluid boluses aimed to increase blood volume, enhancing venous return, cardiac output, and thus, organ perfusion. "We have to perform surgery now!" the male doctor declared to the team.
"Somebody page surgery now!" the female doctor urged, her fear turning into reality.
"I'm not getting a pulse!" a doctor exclaimed upon checking Aveline's wrist. "Rose! Start the CPR!" He quickly ordered the intern.
Without hesitation, Rose positioned her palms on Aveline's chest and began the compressions, counting silently to herself: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...
She pushed harder.
And again.
With each compression, she sought to induce airflow.
Once more.
And again.
Each press of her hands made the bed creak. A grunt escaped Rose between breaths, her forehead creasing with desperation. "You're not going to die; you're not dying! Not on my watch!" Rose muttered determinedly as she continued the CPR. "Try to hold still," she pleaded with Aveline. "Just breathe..." Rose whispered, her hands pressing firmly against the chest. Sweat beaded on her forehead, sliding down and dropping onto Aveline's cheek, resembling a tear.
The line on the monitor temporarily elevated. "She's got a flail chest on the right!" another doctor reported, identifying the signs.
Rose withdrew her hands from Aveline.
The monitors' sounds offered mixed signals, indicating that the night's ordeal was far from over. Rose felt shivers on her skin, an ominous premonition she couldn't ignore, an instinct that whispered death was lurking close by.
"SATs are dropping!" one of her colleagues shouted, signaling urgency; Rose stood frozen, her complexion turning ashen. "Shit!"
SAT, or oxygen saturation, measures the percentage of hemoglobin binding sites in the bloodstream occupied by oxygen. Normally, blood oxygen levels range from 90-100 percent. Values under 90 percent are considered low and indicative of hypoxemia, a condition where blood carries a lower-than-average amount of oxygen to the cells and tissues of the body.
"Doctor! SATs at 80!" The blood oxygen level, also referred to as hypoxemia, signals when oxygen circulating from the blood to the body's cells and tissues is insufficient.
"SATs dropping to 70!" The oxygen level continued to fall, prompting the monitor to emit a warning. The continuous decline necessitated supplemental oxygen.
"I think she has tension pneumothorax; her bilateral chest tubes might be blocked!" The doctor diagnosed upon examining Aveline's lungs. Tension pneumothorax, caused by trapped air under pressure in the chest, can collapse the affected lung and compress the heart and the other lung, rapidly progressing to a fatal state if not addressed immediately.
"Nurse! I need A 36 French tube now!" The female doctor moved to perform a vertical incision near the lungs, inserting the tube to evacuate the excess air.
"Nurse! Page surgery again!" Rose demanded urgently.
The male doctor called to a colleague, "Doctor Gomez, please check her pupils!"
Dr. Gomez announced with alarm, "Rose! Her right pupil is dilated!" He checked Aveline's eyes and recognized the grave sign.
With no time to waste, the urgency escalated.
"Nurse! Call Neurosurgery!" Dr. Gomez ordered.
"What are we waiting for?! Let's go! Let's go!"
++++
Mildred looked afraid as she entered the lobby. She had received a call on her phone; the hospital informed her about the incident. Mildred was still in denial, convinced it was all a bad dream. She hoped to wake up soon, with everything returned to how she wished it to be.
The doctor waited for her in the lobby, standing near the door. Every step Mildred took felt like stepping on broken glass, as if heavy chains were bound to her feet.
"Are you her friend? Your name and phone number were found in her purse. It was imperative we informed you as soon as possible," the doctor stated in a professional tone. "I'm Doctor Cruz, the attending physician for your friend." She regarded Mildred with an emotionless expression; her voice was cold and distant.
"W-what happened? Why is she here?" Mildred asked, still in shock. She harbored the hope they had called her about the wrong patient and that Aveline was alive, going about her usual activities. A glimmer of hope lingered in the back of her mind that she would see her friend again, that they would talk, hang out, and plan for the future—not face this grim reality she refused to believe.
Doctor Cruz sighed deeply, watching Mildred with a hint of sympathy in her eyes. Mildred lowered her gaze, unwilling to confront the truth, her attention fixed on the door instead.
"Right now, she's intubated. Machines are keeping her alive. Her gunshot wound was fatal; she's suffering from multiple organ failure. Every part of her is starting to fail, and there's nothing more we can do—"
"P-please don't say it. Please...don't tell me," Mildred interrupted, the words too painful to hear. "I'll go ahead...uhm...I need to see her." Her voice barely above a whisper, Mildred gripped the doorknob, bracing herself to face the truth.
The doctor nodded, understanding Mildred's pain, and quietly stepped aside.
Mildred gathered all her strength; behind the door lay a reality she dreaded to face. Taking a deep breath, her heart pounded, seemingly loud enough to echo her fears. Despite the terror the possibility held, she knew she had to endure it. Taking another deep breath, she mustered more courage.
With trembling hands, she opened the door. A wave of warmth washed over her, and shivers ran down her spine. Her grip tightened on the knob as terror took hold. Her breathing quickened at the sound of the creaking door. Blinding sunlight greeted her, and then, she saw her friend.
Approaching the bed, she observed Aveline's peaceful slumber beneath an oxygen mask. Sitting down, a faint smile touched Mildred's lips as she gently brushed strands of hair from Aveline's forehead. A deep sigh escaped her; her throat dried as she fought back tears. The weight of the world seemed to press on her shoulders, the pain of seeing her friend in such a state unbearable, leaving her feeling helpless. The torture of watching Aveline slowly fade was almost too much to bear. Mildred took her friend's hand, speaking softly, "Do...do you remember when we watch movies? There's always that one part I hate." She chewed on her lower lip, struggling to contain her tears. "I hate this scene, A-Aveline. This is where I cry, and you're just lying here. I despise this drama, Aveline. This is the part of the movie where I cry and...and...I fucking hate it."
"Don't do this to me, Aveline. Don't turn our lives into a soap opera. I hate it. Don't make me cry like a drama queen. You know I really despise watching TV dramas. This is exactly the kind of scene they all love to cry over in hospitals, right? I hate this, Aveline. I hate this part." Mildred lowered her gaze, struggling to maintain cheerfulness just to cope with the situation. "Fuck! This is so fucking cheesy!" She sniffed quietly, tears inevitably starting to fall. "But...but...if you survive this. Damn it! I'll do whatever you want." A laugh escaped Mildred, her lip trembling. "I'll do everything I hate. I'll cook breakfast; I'll quit smoking weed. I won't even argue with Brenda." She wiped her eyes, her voice faltering, sounding like a child desperately wishing for a miracle.
She squeezed Aveline's hand. "Hey! W-wake up. D-don't do this to me. T-tell me you're just messing with me? P-please don't leave me, A-Aveline." Mildred inhaled sharply, sitting on the bed to cradle Aveline's face gently. It was a tender attempt to rouse her, as she took another deep breath, forcing a smile through her anguish. "Hey...wake up. I promise to even take care of Jomar. I'll do it every day if you'd like," she managed a hollow laugh, her vision blurring with tears.
Mildred watched Aveline, smiling and striving to stay strong, even though the pain in her heart was unbearable. It felt as though she was being stabbed a thousand times.
But Mildred's facade of bravery crumbled. A great sob broke through as she covered her face with shaking hands, her grief erupting in a flood of uncontrollable tears. Her lips and even her chin quivered. "I don't want you to leave," she cried, tears streaming down her face. "You're my best friend," she whispered.
Suddenly, something alarming happened; the sound of the machine signaled danger, instilling terror in her eyes. Mildred rushed out of the room, screaming for help.
"Nurse! Nurse!"
The nurse heard the call, and the medical team responded immediately. Mildred's vision, blurred by tears, could barely make out the echoing footsteps and their distant voices.
"Code Red! Code Red!"
The medical team maneuvered the crash cart, filled with emergency supplies, into the room. The sound of its wheels echoed ominously, each screech piercing Mildred's soul and filling her heart with dread. She stood up, leaning against the wall as a cool breeze entered through the window, stirring her hair as if it were a whisper from another realm.
"Clear the way!" commanded the doctor.
"The heart rate is dropping!" reported the nurse, monitoring the results.
"Administer epinephrine and amiodarone!" With precision, the doctor injected Aveline's chest, releasing the medication to combat cardiac arrest. "The patient has cardiac arrhythmia!" he announced, observing the erratic lines on the monitor. Aveline's heart rate continued to decline, with the lines on the heart monitor edging closer to flat.
"Get me the defibrillator!"
The nurse quickly grabbed the defibrillator, handing it to the doctor.
Time was running out.
The medical team hurriedly opened Aveline's clothes to expose her chest and applied a conductive gel to the defibrillator pads.
"Charge it at 200!" the doctor commanded, signaling for the team to step back from the bed.
Attaching the charged pads to her chest, they unleashed a surge of electrical energy. Aveline's body convulsed with the force of the current.
Yet, the heart monitor line remained ominously flat.
"Charge at 250!"
"Clear!" With a firm press, the doctor deployed the defibrillator again.
The nurse's voice rose in alarm, "Doctor! The heart rate is dropping!"
"Charge it at 300!" he ordered once more.
They administered the maximum joules, a desperate attempt to jolt her heart into action.
"Clear!"
Aveline's body jerked with the current's flow.
The alarm from the monitor sounded again... The sunlight streamed through the window, the wind caressing Mildred's face as the white curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze. Mildred blinked, bracing for the truth, her fear tangible as a scream filled the room.
"Aveline!"
Then, the lines on the monitor went...
Flat.
The doctor lowered his head in defeat, his voice breaking, "Time of death...5:45 pm."
Mildred's world blurred, every sound fading to a whisper. A tear traced down her cheek, followed by a deluge of grief. Her chin quivered as she struggled for breath, her cry of denial filling the room. "Aveline! Aveline!!!" Her scream was guttural, "No!"
She rushed to the bed, embracing her friend. Her shoulders shook, her lips trembled, tears streaming down her face. Each tear seemed to fracture her heart anew. "I'm gonna miss you. I'm going to miss you," she whimpered softly. "I'll...I'll be okay, Aveline. Be...be happy, my friend," she whispered, bidding a final farewell to Aveline.
Mildred looked out the window while she hugged her friend, pressing her cheek against Aveline's. She was ready to let go. Mildred watched the glaring rays of the sun reach the horizon. The sunset caressed Aveline's face; the gentle wind seemed to have finally taken her soul.
++++
A pair of brown eyes opened from a restless sleep as the first waves of the radiant sun peeked above the horizon. Its dazzling rays flowed through the window, warming the room and casting a vivid tangerine glow throughout. Mildred rose from her bed, stumbling slightly as drowsiness clung to her. She scanned the room, searching for someone. Upon finding what she sought, she sighed in relief.
Mildred sniffled from her cold, the remnants of a bad dream lingering. She grabbed a tissue and wiped her nose before approaching Aveline's bed. Seeing her friend awake and quietly staring at the ceiling brought a smile to her face. "I'm glad you're here. How are you feeling?" she asked Aveline in a croaky voice, rubbing her nose.
"I feel fine. The medications are helping," Aveline groaned, pain evident in her voice as she touched the back of her head. "I'm sad. Tunying died saving my life," she added, her voice raspy with grief. "It's been five days. Why am I still alive?" Aveline wept.
Mildred wrapped an arm around Aveline's shoulders, pulling her close and gently rubbing her arm. Words seemed inadequate to address her friend's sorrow. Tunying had taken a bullet for Aveline, a sacrifice that saved her but cost him his life. "I feel sorry for Tunying. But you need to go on, Aveline. His sacrifice would be in vain if you give up easily."
Aveline sighed.
"Don't worry about anything. Brenda and I will help you pay the bills," Mildred consoled her friend, sensing her distress. "Thank you," was all Aveline could manage to say. No amount of words could fully express what she was feeling at that moment. Tears began to fall as she wrapped her arms around her teddy bear and buried her face in it.
"Damn it, Aveline! Let's stop this before we become drama queens," Mildred said, rolling her eyes so dramatically it seemed she could see her own brain. "I hate this shit, you know? Crying in the hospital and all that."
"Take a rest; I'm going to the lobby to charge your phone. I'll also buy you some coffee."
"O-okay," Aveline nodded, managing a smile.
Mildred headed to the lobby, settled into one of the chairs, and began charging Aveline's cellphone. She decided to distract herself with games. Nearby, an old janitor was cleaning the floor with a machine, its loud whirring sound filling the hallway. Mildred scrunched her face, annoyed by the noise. As she continued to play on the cellphone, memories of her dream resurfaced, making her cringe. "Damn it. Oh my god!" she blurted out in a burst of embarrassment, her feet swinging in disgust. The janitor glanced in her direction, startled.
Mildred quickly pretended to talk on the phone, covering up her outburst. I should win an Oscar. I'm great at drama. Can't believe I cried a bucket of tears. Guess binge-watching medical TV series really paved the way. I'm the best actress! Motherfucker! she mused on her supposed talent, oblivious to how foolish she appeared, laughing alone. Catching the janitor staring at her, confusion evident on his face, Mildred faked a cough and resumed her pretend phone conversat
Suddenly, Mildred jolted upright when the phone rang, quickly removing it from her ear before the Janitor could notice her again.
She checked the screen:
Unknown number calling.
As the Janitor approached with his mopping machine, Mildred answered the call. "Hello?"
"Hi, I'm calling from my office. Oh? Who's this?"
"I'm Mildred...who are you?" she responded, her tone tinged with boredom as she idly scratched her cheek.
"It's Margo Sin—" Her voice was drowned out by the mopping machine's noise. "Where's Aveline?"
Mildred yawned. "Wait. She might be sleeping. I'll talk to her." She pinched the bridge of her nose and chewed on a cuticle. "What's your name again?"
The whirring sound of the mopping machine echoed through the lobby.
"Margo," came the reply from the other line.
Mildred set the phone on the chair and walked to the room. Aveline was awake, lying in bed, watching TV, and hugging Jomar.
"Aveline, do you know someone named Marco?" Mildred called out from the doorway.
"Huh?" Aveline frowned, puzzled by the name.
"Marco?" Mildred repeated, leaning against the wall and absentmindedly picking her nose.
"I don't know anyone named Marco," Aveline replied, her forehead furrowing in confusion. Remembering the names of her clients was never her forte. "Why do you ask?" She shifted her focus back to hugging Jomar.
"You have a call. It's from Marco," Mildred stated, scratching her head in confusion.
"I'm not interested in taking their calls," Aveline said with a dismissive shrug.
"I'll handle it and tell them to fuck off," Mildred sighed, annoyed at the thought it might be someone trying to take advantage of her friend. However, an idea suddenly struck her. She returned to the phone and picked it up again. "Hello?"
"Yes, I'm still here," Margo replied.
"She's in the hospital right now. Are you her friend?" Mildred asked, a smirk forming on her lips.
"What happened to Aveline?"
"Tomas beat the shit out of her. Why don't you visit and bring some food?" Mildred blurted out her improvised plan, unaware she was talking to the eternal Queen. She even provided the name of the hospital and Aveline's room number.
"I'll hang up now," Margo announced.
"What do you mean?" Mildred suddenly became confused; she couldn't tell if Margo agreed or not.
The line went dead.
"God damn it!" Mildred muttered in frustration.
++++