“Memorial Hospital, please come in on bravo seven.” The paramedic’s voice over the radio interrupted the chatting physicians and nurses.
The head nurse on the shift turned towards the radio with a flip of her blond hair. “This is Memorial.” She answered.
“Please be advised we are bringing in late twenties, Caucasian male. Suspected overdose and alcohol poisoning; lacerations to both anticubitals, approximately a quarter-inch deep, apparent suicide attempt with note found. BP is at 150/100, pulse rate 90. 2 liters in the field. Three minutes out.”
The nurse turned around to a group of doctors, residents and interns waiting at the desk. “We have a drug overdose, alcohol poisoning, suicide attempt.” She reported to them.
The head physician looked perplexed. “Another drug overdose, geez, must be some bad E out there or something.” He shook his head.
“Three minutes out.” The nurse added.
With a nod, the graying physician looked at the group around him. “Trauma gowns. We just had one of these so you all should know what to do. Nurse Grays, if you could alert psychiatry to the suicide attempt and surgery to the slit wrists.” He started, “Dr. Moorland, call to the blood bank, make sure we have four units of O-neg up here and let them know we’ll be calling for type specific once he’s crossed. Dr. Wasland, what is our first concern?”
Dr. Wasland, a first year Intern, was not sure where to begin. “Depends what the most threating injury is?”
Dr. Carson, as the head physician was called, nodded. “Yes. We’ll assess and see where he is. We have to figure out a plan of attack for each injury- one for the alcohol poisoning, one for the drug overdose- potentially more if he’s OD’d on more than one thing which may be possible with a suicide, and one plan for his wrists. Without specifics, what’s your plan of attack so far?”
“A,B,C’s.” Dr. Wasland answered.
The doors banged open. “Late twenties, Caucasian male. Alcohol poisoning, overdose of cocaine and ecstasy and bilateral antecubital lacerations about a quarter-inch deep. BP 150/108, pulse rate 90. 2 liters given in the field. Patient is unresponsive, has suspected aspiration of emesis. Glascow Coma Scale- 2 for eye opening, 1 for verbal response, 4 for motor response, patient is in a coma.” The paramedic explained.
“Do we have a name?” Dr. Carson asked as they wheeled the young man into the first trauma room.
“No wallet, no ID.” The second paramedic answered.
Carefully the team transferred the young man to the trauma gurney and the paramedics left. “We need to intubate.” Dr. Wasland announced.
“Yes. Go ahead.” Dr. Carson confirmed. “Nurse Calloway will you call RT for a vent?”
The nurse nodded confirmation and picked up the phone.
“10 blade!”
The heart monitor beeped, catching everyone’s attention. “Run of five” a nurse called.
“Lost the pulse!” came from a nurse in the other direction. “V-Fib!”
“Start CPR.” Dr. Carson commanded, “Get the paddles! 200.”
A nurse got the young man’s tattered shirt off and Dr. Carson placed the paddles down with a shout of “Clear.”
For a second that felt like a minute for everyone involved, there was no sound- then the monitor’s beeping. “Still v-fib.” The nurse announced.
“Charge again, 250. Clear!” The young man’s body pulsed with electricity but the monitor still read nothing. “350, going again, clear!”
The entire trauma team let out their held breath as the monitor began to show a more normal heart rhythm. “Hang two units of O-neg and get him crossed!” Dr. Wasland barked orders as he uncovered the young man’s wrist wounds, still oozing blood everywhere. “Patient is still a 7 on the coma scale.”
“Tripp,” Dr. Carson addressed one of the medical students who had been silently watching in the corner, horrified by her first ER experience, “Get a Foley in him. I’ll drop the OG tube.”
“Blood pressure’s dropping out! He’s bleeding too fast!” Nurse Calloway announced.
“Hang two of ringers.” Dr. Wasland directed. “We have to get his volume up.”
“Can I get the activated charcoal?” it seemed like when one doctor stopped talking another picked up as they frantically worked to save the young man’s life.
Megan Hurley, a fourth-year medical student rushed through the trauma room’s doors. “Toxic is back. Patient is overdosed on cocaine and ecstasy confirmed. Alcohol level .395”
Before the doctors even had time to process the information, the young man’s body began to violently jerk. “This kid’s going down the tubes. 10 of lorazepam.” Dr. Wasland held the young man down by his shoulders to keep him from launching off of the trauma gurney. “Someone call hem and get a dialysis team down here pronto!”
The medical student held up the results for Dr. Carson to read. “Looks like our young friend here is going to need a liver transplant too. Someone call Urology for dialysis also.”
“Lorazepam in.” Nurse Calloway confirmed.
“Wrists are starting to clot.” Dr. Wasland announced as the young man stopped shaking. “Alright, I think we’re starting to get on top of this. Now we’re going to have to work with the police to find out who he is so we can contact his next of kin.”
“I know who he is.” Megan’s voice nervously shook at the admission, her uncertainty clear. “At least I’m pretty sure.”
The doctors looked at her confused. “What do you mean Hurley?” Dr. Wasland asked.
Megan walked closer to the gurney and took a look. “I use to listen to a band that he was in. Panic! At the Disco. His name’s Ryan. Ryan Ross. You’ll probably find his next of kin in Nevada, Las Vegas. His mom and step-father, since I know his father died back when he was in the band.”
“Wow, band knowledge to identify a patient. That’s a new one.” Tripp commented.
“Anyway we get identification helps.” Dr. Carson advised them.
The medications, stomach wash out and fluids had stabilized the young man. Now they just had to replace his volume, sew up his wrists, give him antibiotics, watch for aspiration pneumonia (which was being avoided by the breathing tube), give him dialysis both for blood and urine, check a chest x-ray for the aspiration damage and a head CT to check for any brain bleeds. That sounded like a lot, but since they had gotten him fixed up with the medication to keep him stable, anything but finding a brain bleed and this guy would most likely be okay. “I’ll get him up to radiology.” Dr. Wasland announced.
“Tripp, you go work with the police and try to notify next of kin.” Dr. Carson directed. After the room was mostly empty, he added, “I hope this is the last OD tonight.”
YOU ARE READING
Disaster Brings A Second Chance (Make it Right)
FanfictionWhen Ryan faces a devastating medical situation, the guys come back to help him through. Will Ryan make the most of his second chance or squander it away? Note: I do not know Panic! or any of the members and this story is not to imply I think this...
