Pulse

Chapter 1

    For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to help people, to offer a hand to the fallen . . . the hurt . . . the broken. Having witnessed both my parents serve their city proudly and honorably. They were my role models in how I wanted to be able to do something more in this world.
   My dad is a fire chief and my mother a nurse; they both have hearts of gold and are very gracious, beautiful people.
   I work primarily with people who have been hurt and need extra work to learn how to walk or move after a bad trauma.
   I walked into work at the Rehabilitation Center, located in Seattle. Working with people as a physical therapist is something I genuinely love. There is nothing like seeing them overcome their injuries. It gives me the greatest pleasure to see someone's determination and transformation from when they first come to when they leave. This is genuinely a fantastic honor to be a part of someone's healing and rehabilitation.
    I walk over to my desk to check my emails and see immediately I have a new one from one of our facilities in a military branch in Kingston County. I click on it and read it over.
   They need help at their Rehabilitation center, requiring a nurse for a new patient. It said ASAP!
    I quickly call the number below. The contact name was Melissa Graves, Human Resources Manager.

                 :::Conservation:::

Melissa Graves (H.R.): Hello, Melissa speaking."
     Layla: Hey Melissa, it's me, Layla, here at Seattle Grace Rehabilitation Center. I just got your email.
    Melissa Graves: Thank you for calling. So do you think you could help us out? We just got three new patients brought in, and they are pretty severe.
    She sounded desperate.
    Layla: Um, yeah, I could help you out. When do you need me?
    I check through my calendar and see I have a pretty light load right now that I could let the others take over.
    Melissa Graves: As soon as possible, these guys will need 24/7 care right now. Three military men with nasty wounds include losing limbs, burns, and other intense traumas. It isn't perfect.
    She sounds overwhelmed.
    Layla: I could be there within the hour. Does that work? My calendar is pretty clear here.
   Melissa Graves: Oh, thank you, you are a lifesaver; that would be wonderful.
   Layla: I will see you in a little bit.
   Melissa thanks me again and hangs up, sounding relieved. I walked over to Rachel, one of the other care took here, and told her that I needed to go. She agreed that going was more important, and she was happy to take over my patients here while I was gone.

    I like having a routine; I like knowing where I am going and how I will get there. I wouldn't say I like surprises and being unprepared. I am socially awkward and am more of an introvert, keep to myself kind of gal. Anything new or unplanned can interrupt the flow of my rhythm.
    My mornings start with waking up at 6 am on the dot; I do my 20 minutes of yoga, then mediation. Then breakfast smoothie at 7, shower, get dressed, and head to work. Be there by 7:45.
    I like to be there early and know my schedule and how my day will be. As I said, anything new or unplanned can through me off. I feel out of my comfort zone. Unprepared.
    I grabbed my purse and jacket and walked out. I took the elevator down to the parking garage and walked down to my car. I unlocked it with my key fob.
I slide in and place my purse on the passenger side seat.
    I plugin Kingston County on my G.P.S, and the map came on blinking arrows showing where I was and the best route to get there.
    Reaching up, I pull down the sun visor, checking my reflection. I grabbed my cherry slip gloss from my purse and reapplied it, pressing my lips together and smoothing the mask over my lips.
    I looked back behind me and pulled out of my parking space, and drove out of the lot.
    The drive was excellent as I got closer to the military bases Medical Center. The facility was extensive, and I heard it had great new equipment.
    I drive through the gate and drive up to the small building that checks everyone in or out.
    One of the guards asked me for my I.D. He nodded his head when I've been cleared and pointed to an area for me to park and which entrance to go in at the larger facility.
    I thanked him and drove off. After parking, I made my way to the North entrance. Entering the building, I made my way down a brightly lit hallway that led to a reception desk. I walked up and introduced myself. "Hey, my name is Layla Ryan."
    "I'm Carly Reynold; you're our new help?" the petite woman stood up as she came over.
    "Yes!" I smiled cheerfully.
    "Great, I'll lead you to the ward. Just a pre-warning, they are just being brought in and are just out of the critical zone but still need to be closely monitored." She told me as I followed her instep.
    The receptionist was dressed in her tight cream-colored pantsuit combo; her curly blonde hair was gorgeous with defined curls that bounced as she walked. I follow her down a long corridor. Then we come to a set of double doors, and they automatically open as we get close. I stepped in and saw a room with rows and rows of beds. Curtains that hung from the ceiling separated the patients.
    Another woman sees me and walks over with her bright red lips curled up in a welcoming smile. "Hey, you must be Layla? I'm Melissa." She said, friendly.
    "Yes, I'm Layla." I welcomed her with a friendly handshake.
    "So, where are the patients?" I asked.
    "Two are in the O.R. The other one is just being brought in by helicopter."
   "Oh, I thought they were already here?"
    "No, they were too critical to move before."
    "Okay. So what are there injures?"
    "The one in the O.R lost his leg. The other one has a broken leg and back; his whole left side burnt badly. And the other one arriving was shot in his leg and abdomen."
    "Okay." Damnz, these are critical cases.
    "I'll show you around and get yourself familiar with the place. It's pretty big and can be overwhelming; we have different levels and sections.
You'll be in the A section. It's the newly injured ward. Then once they are moving around more, they will be transferred to the outpatient sector where they come for just their rehabilitation however often they need to come."
    "Wow, so these guys are in terrible shape?"
    "Yes." They are not only going to be fighting to live but fighting their own battles inside from what they have just been through. I heard that there, the whole camp was attacked, and it was a brutal invasion. Countless men died. I think only these three survived out of their division, like 30 men."
    My mind could barely contemplate what I was hearing. To have a whole division nearly wiped out. Wow!
    "Yeah, it's bad, but we have to let them see there's good still. Be there light when their lives have been turned upside down."
    "I agree." I nodded.
    Melissa showed me around the staff kitchen and lounge area with a full stalked kitchen and comfortable sitting area. Washrooms, showers, and locker rooms that were just passed the kitchen. I got my locker with my name and everything.
    I smiled as people walked by. Everyone seemed nice. I met some of the other workers.
     I was going to be assigned to one of these men. Then two other workers would be with the other guys working one-on-one.
     I've never worked with severely hurt people, usually more additional support with limbs and physical therapy exercises.
     I did work in a hospital in the E.R. in my schooling for nursing. But this sounds strenuous. I'm nervous, which is causing me to get swarms of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach as my self-doubt hits me.
    "Are you okay?" Melissa asks.
    I turn and look at her.
    "Yeah, just a little nervous."
    "It'll be okay. It'll be a lot of laying around and healing for them as their bodies heal. But we think you're more than qualified and capable. Your resume speaks for itself."
    "Well, thanks," I say proudly.
    "Alright, so this is your section." She leads me to a smaller section—one nurse station with three rooms.
    Melissa shows me to my patient's room.
I stand in the center and take it all in.
    I heard someone shouting outside the door. We saw a man getting agitated as they wheeled him down. "I need to go back!" He shouted.
    I stayed out of the way as they wheeled him into the room, my assigned room.
    No way.
    He looked at me with pleading eyes.
"Tell them to send me back. I have to save them." He begged.
    "Save who?" I asked.
    "My men!" He shouted.
    The Emergency Responders give me a shrug of their shoulders.
    He didn't know his men were wiped out; now, he thinks he's left them behind.
    "You're safe now." I tried to speak unaffectedly by what I was seeing and what I'd heard.
    "I don't care about me...them, they need me." His eyes were all over the place. One side of his face was burnt, and his whole left arm was burnt. His other leg was in a cast that went over his knee.
    The men who pushed him in gave me his chart and then left. I stood there as a child, scared of what to do next. I scanned his chart, my hands shaking badly. His name is Briggs James; he's 28 and was born in Seattle.
    "Miss?" His gritty coarse voice spoke, breaking the silence.
    I looked up over the clipboard. His eyes stared back into mine.  
   Pain...fear...uncertainty look back at me.
    "Hey, Mr. James."
    "Get me out of here. Can you get me a phone?"
    "Sir, you've been badly injured. It would help if you stayed here. You're in no shape to leave." I spoke softly.
     "I...I need to go back; my men need me."
    "Sir, there are two other men that we're brought here with you," I told him.
    "Who?" He asked.
    "I'm not sure of the names, but I can check."
    "Go check." He demanded.
    "Okay, I'll be right back." I walked out fidgeting with my nurse scrub.
    That man is so handsome. Even with his burns, he was stunning. His eyes got me first. They were an intense blue, they held years of pain, bad memories, and scars so deep he'll keep them to himself so as not to bring others misery and pain from what he's seen and been through. But I wanted to help him.
     The eyes are the most intriguing thing to me about a person. They've seen so much, yet they can express so much.
    I walked around and found the other nurses and asked about the other men.
    I found out the two guys were back from the O.R. One guy's name was Axl; the other was Carter.
    Entering Briggs's room, I see his head is turned as he stares out the window, looking so lost.