Manumission

Chapter 1

Six Months Prior

Eva hated days off.

There were only so many times she could sweep and mop the floor. Or wash, iron, fold, and refold her clothes. Or reorganize the scant amount of items she'd managed to collect since moving into this apartment several months before. Eventually, the apartment would be spotless, even to her standards, and then she'd be left alone with her thoughts.

Heaven forbid.

So when the scratched flip-phone on her bedside table buzzed with an automated message containing the hospital's staffing needs, she dropped it twice in her haste to call back and volunteer.

Slipping on a pair of shapeless, blue scrubs and worn Nike's, she gathered the honey-brown tendrils off her back and forced them into a severe ponytail. Last came a fleece jacket and her most prized possession: the ancient, black stethoscope she'd found at Goodwill during her first semester of nursing school. Its weight calmed her the same as it had then. Reassured her that she was here. That she was alive.

The walk to the L train was brisk but refreshing. Amidst the sea of people, Eva felt deliciously invisible. No one paid her any mind or even looked her way. The train ride was bearable, though crowded, allowing Eva to take in the sounds around her and relish their monotony.

"Thank God you're here! There's a code in 12 and a MET call in 18!"

"Where do you need me?"

"18."

Eva didn't reply as she dropped her coat and scarf at the front desk and walked briskly down the hall. Entering the room, she put on gloves and asked the MET nurse what she needed. After drawing a rainbow of labs on the man struggling to breathe, she noticed his eyes flicker shut.

"Jerry?" she called, tapping his face as the portable EKG began to squawk.

Getting no response, she slid her fingers to his throat as the resident entered the room.

"Check the rhythm!" she exclaimed, searching desperately for a pulse.

"Checking," came the reply.

"No pulse," she yelled, immediately hitting the CPR button on the bed and bringing her hands up to the man's chest. "Call a code!"

"He's in PEA," someone informed as the respiratory therapist grabbed the ambu bag, lining it up over the patient's mouth.

Eva ignored the crunching sensation underneath her palm as the patient's ribs began to break from the force of her compressions.

"Backboard?" she called as she paused for rescue breaths.

"Here."

"Rolling on three," called the respiratory therapist. "One, two, three."

They rolled the limp man, placed the backboard, and slid the AED into place on his chest in a matter of seconds. Someone offered to switch out on compressions on the next cycle and Eva took a step away from the bed.

"Who's on meds?"

"I can," Eva called to the Lead, moving to the crash cart.

"Push one of Epi."

"Got it," she called, grabbing the medication from the cart and accessing the patient's IV. "One of Epi in," she called out, flushing the line.

Clearing the rest of the patient's gown away for better access, Eva stood back as the Lead checked the rhythm again.

"He's in V-Fib. Pulse check?"

"Checking," she called, searching his leg for a pulse as the team on compressions stopped.

"No pulse," she announced.

"Shock him."

"Clear!" yelled the nurse on compressions.

"Clear!" Eva called back in unison with the team, stepping away from the bed.

"Shocking! All clear!" the nurse yelled again, hitting the lit-up button on the AED.

The team resumed CPR as the body jolted. Another round of Epi was given, an airway was established, and the patient was shocked once more before the Lead called for another pulse check. Eva searched for a femoral pulse and found a thin throb against her finger tips.

"I have a pulse!"

"Okay, stay on it. RT, keep bagging and let's head to the ICU."

By the time they were halfway down the hallway, Eva's back ached from the awkward way she was sitting on the bed and her hand burned from keeping firm pressure on the patient's leg, desperately holding onto his threading pulse. After transitioning the fragile, yet stabilizing man into the care of the code team and ICU staff, she made the trek back to her unit, breathless, exhausted.

Exhilarated.

_______

"You need to take a break."

Eva looked up from the heparin vial from which she was drawing and glanced at her coworker before returning to the slowly filling syringe.

"I did."

Terika snorted.

"Charting while standing up is not a break. Seriously, you at least need to go drink some water or you're gonna collapse. Again."

Eva looked back at Terika to find a disapprovingly raised eyebrow.

"It was one time," she said lightly. "It won't happen again."

"If it does, I'm gonna straight up step right over you, because it'll be your own damn fault."

"Understood," Eva grinned, ignoring Terika's eye roll. "I'll go drink something."

As she left the nurses' station, she tossed over her shoulder, "after I give this heparin."

Terika's incensed reply was drowned out by the deafening whir of drilling wafting from the construction zone down the hall. She ducked out of the way of two construction workers pushing a cart loaded with tools and supplies, apologizing to each by name and asking how their weekend had been. Entering her patient's room, she joked with the old woman about gaining some weight so the abdominal injection wouldn't hurt so much next time. After shutting the door behind herself and sanitizing her hands, she took out her "brain" sheet and marked the medication off her list, dropping her pen in the process.

Useless, she chided herself.

Stooping the pick up the pen, she stood back up quickly. Too quickly. Her vision became spotty, then began to fade. She reached out for the wall, but couldn't grab it in time as the floor came softly up to meet her and darkness fell.