The Last Chicane

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           "I know Tessa... I know." I said as I fished around in my bag for the keys to my apartment. I had called her not long after we both left the hospital. Tessa has gotten good at hiding when certain things bother her, but I know her. Losing that girl had affected her almost as much as it had affected me. Almost. But as the experienced nurse where the younger ones look up to you, you have to be strong. For them. It had taken a mental toll on her and I could see it, I was just better at hiding my emotions.

I could barely make out what she was attempting to say in between sobs. "But... told... Family... did... everything... could... right...?" My heart broke for her hearing her like this. Her being only 22, her younger sister is the exact same age as the patient we lost. I finally got my door open to my apartment. I loved being on the 16th floor. High enough up that you are away from all the noise on the streets. I sat my bags and keys down on the counter in the kitchen.

"Tess. Take a big deep breath with me." She mimicked me through the phone as I inhaled deeply, holding it for a couple of seconds before exhaling. I could hear her exhale on the other end of the phone. "You know we did absolutely everything we could for her. One of the bullets had nicked her aorta. It had completely dissected before we could even stabilize her from the OR. Even Dr. Thompson knew what the outcome was going to be." I could hear her breathing become more steady as each second passed. Talking through these things always helped clear her mind just as much as it helped me. It was our therapy. We are human, after all.

"You're right. You're right. I just can't get the mother's screams out of my head. That sound will probably haunt me for a while." She replied. She was right. If she was anything like me, it would haunt her. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was her lifeless body, that look they get in their eyes as they pass on. That look is universal, a telltale sign. Completely void of life.

I could feel it then. The tears starting to sting in the back of my eyes. My throat was starting to close up. I was barely hanging on long enough to end this call. I could make it. Then I could sit on the couch and sob for as long as I needed to get it out of my system. I just had to be strong for Tess. Then I could deal with my emotions.

"...flight?" Tessa said.

"I'm sorry what was the question?" I asked, apologizing for asking her to repeat herself.

"When is your flight? And how long are you gone for again? I can't remember what you told me. I really need to start writing your schedule down in my calendar."

I started to laugh. The post shift conversations were always the best, as we are both delirious by the time we get home.

"I fly out tomorrow night. I land in Monaco around lunchtime. And if you're lucky and I decide to come back, I'll be back on the 30th." I answered. Silently waiting for her to catch what I had just said.

"The 30th... As in January 30th?!" She yelled through the phone.

"Uhhhhh yep. That's been the plan all along remember?" Walking into my room, I put my phone on speaker and sat it on the bed so I can walk into my closet to start packing for my trip. I knew I hadn't told her what day I was coming back. She would've done what she's doing now and demanded that I stay and not go on my trip. But I needed this trip. To get away. From work, from my parents, my brother. Everything. I just needed a little escape.

She started yelling at me in English and in Spanish, I was grinning- not that she could see it. She always did this when she got mad. I happened to think it was hilarious. "Estas loca?! Tu cumpleaños es el 26 de enero! (Are you crazy?! Your birthday is January 26th!) You're turning 26 this year, and you're going to be all alone for your birthday? And you're going to be gone for nearly 3 weeks? You didn't tell me that when you talked me into charging for you at work! Nope. You're not going now. I won't allow it. No puedo creerte. (I can't believe you)" One good thing about working at the largest Level 1 Trauma hospital in the region, Houston Methodist Hospital, is that most of the staff are fluent in Spanish. She knew I understood her while she switched in between English and Spanish.

"Sabía que te asustarías como ahora si te lo hubiera dicho antes. (I knew you would freak out just like you are now if I had told you any earlier)" I knew she would have panicked if I had told her any sooner. I know her. She is worried about being the one in charge, where everyone will go to her for questions. "Tess. You are more than capable. You are an incredible nurse. Plus, I taught you everything you know. So, I know you got this. You can do this. I'm not going to be there forever. Think of this like a test of your confidence."

Her critical thinking skills surpassed everyone else on the unit, even if she is only 22. She just needed a little push to boost her confidence in herself.

She was quiet for a minute. I could see her thinking through the phone, her coming to the same conclusion that I had and finding some understanding. "Fine. I'm still mad at you. I will only allow you to go if you promise me that if I call you with an emergency that you'll answer?"

"I promise. I'm just a phone call away. You can call me any time and I promise I'll answer the phone." I reassured her. We chatted for little bit longer talking about what the weather was like over there while I packed my suitcase. After a while we hung up.

Silence greeted me. Complete and utter silence. Finally, I laid on top of my bed facing the ceiling. Thinking. Processing of what all happened today. Losing that girl. The whole day was on repeat. Suddenly I lost control of my thoughts and let them wander to my family. What were my parents doing right now? Did they ever think of me like I am thinking of them right now? Probably not. All they ever cared about was my little brother and his success. I could feel the tears starting to sting. My throat tight. I always did this. It was like clockwork. Every time I had a loss at the hospital, I would come home and my thoughts would overwhelm me and get out of control. I could feel the beginnings of a panic attack creeping in. the telltale sign of my chest starting to get heavy.

I started coaching myself through some deep breathing exercises, hoping that this feeling would go away. It didn't. Then it hit me. I sat up on my bed, suddenly not being able to breathe. Sobbing and hyperventilating, I placed my head in both of my hands hoping that will help calm me.

15 minutes had passed before the panic attack started to subside and I could finally take a good deep breath. I stared at my wall, as I was not sitting on the floor. Catching my breath, I wiped the tears from my now red and puffy face. Standing up, I made my way into my bathroom and drew myself a bath. Resting my head on the back of the tub and staring at the ceiling, I couldn't stop thinking- How long will I be trapped in this empty house?