"Alright, keep your hands steady people. This bullet is in deep and I do not want any slipups," Maya spoke out to the ER team. "How are the X-rays looking?"
"Three in the back. Two exit wounds and one located dangerously close to the spine," the other ER doctor replied, off in a corner, examining the x-rays.
"Great, he could end up in a wheelchair even if we manage to save him," Maya mused aloud. "Everybody ready here? We do not have any time to waste."
For the next few hours, Maya, the other ER doctor and the attending nurses worked feverously to save the kid who got brought in by the ambulance. He had been the target of a gang shooting. Those with him were dead on arrival, with the teen hanging by a thread.
For the past week, Maya worked around the clock with little to no rest as shooting victim after shooting victim entered the ER of her hospital. She did not know why but the violence escalated in the city, packing her ER with victim after victim. The Indian doctor slept an hour here or there, not enough to keep her nerves from fraying.
Maya understood in an emergency situation shit happens and a doctor won't get much sleep, however none of the others on the roster picked up the slack or were that interested in showing up for their shifts. The already stretched thin hospital got pushed to the breaking point.
"Doctor, we're losing him," the nurse watching the pulse monitor called out. "He is flat-lining."
Another nurse rushed over the automated internal defibrillator. Maya opened it up and did her best to setup the machine properly. It took her experienced hands seconds to place the paddles correctly.
"Ready...charge..." Maya stated, using the device.
The patient's heartbeat flickered for a moment but flat-lined again quickly.
"Ready...charge..." Maya stated again.
Still nothing.
"Turn up the juice," she ordered. "Ready...charge..."
"Doctor, he is dead."
"Again!" she commanded, fiercely, ignoring the nurse's words.
Maya attempted to revive the teen a couple more times but to no avail.
"We'll call it...death occurred at 7:43pm," the other surgeon commented, looking at the clock.
"I need to get some air..." Maya said.
Maya left the surgical room, pulling off the bloodied mask, and immediately walked off to the staff room in a haze. A nurse here or there tried to flag her on the way but she heard nothing, saw nothing, as her mind performed on auto-pilot while walking through elevators and hallways. The moment she entered the empty room, she found a clear spot against a wall and sank to the floor. Tears began to flow from her face, uncontrollably, as the death hit her hard.
Strung out, tired and jaded from patching up gangbangers who'd walk in with their war wounds, this spat of fatalities made the usually calm, cool and collected doctor crack. All the victims that came in died, each and every single one of them. One week of life, one week of her world-class experience failed as not a single gangland victim survived. One or two were gang members, but most were kids, victims of the wrong place at the wrong time.
This last kid, barely looking eighteen, had no chance but she tried to perform a miracle. The bullet lodged itself too close to the spine, not counting the two open wounds through other vital organs. All the time, money, and experiences flushed down the drain because of a situation on the streets she had no control over.
Her job required mending the wounds of soldiers in an unending war, and the victims who only wanted to survive for one more day. Maya took out her phone, grabbed on the way to the staff room, and shakily typed in a message. Each character typed got retyped as her fingers could not focus on a simple job. She had to stop for a moment, taking a deep breath to focus her nerves. More tears kept flowing down her cheeks, flushing her brown skin, and dripped down her chin to splash against the blood splattered scrubs worn.
"Nik...I need to talk. Please be home later. I need you. I can't be alone right now..."
It took her ten minutes to type the message. Maya did not wait for the reply, determined to go over to his house regardless of who or what went on at the moment. Without warning though, the door to the staffroom opened up.
"Dr. Rai, we have another code red. Get scrubbed up again. Another shooting," the doctor said, ignoring her condition. "Come on."
"I can't. I need a rest. Get Dr. Benson."
"Dr. Benson is not here."
"What a surprise. Get Dr. McClusky or Dr. Quinn," Maya stated.
"They are busy too. We do not have time. We have to get scrubbed again."
"I said I can't!" she shouted. "I just spent six hours trying to pull a fucking bullet from a child's spine. Before that, fixing a bleed to the brain. Before that, Uzi bullets from a girl's leg. Before that, Glock rounds from a boy of five. I'm tired of death," she snapped. "I...need...rest..."
"Okay, okay, I'll call in Benson," the doctor replied and left quickly.
Maya rested her head back against the staff room wall, laughing and sobbing, her emotions raw and bare. After a moment to regain her composure, she stood up, keeping it together as best she could while walking out of the door. Straight to her beater without a word to anyone else in the hospital, Maya sped away to Nik's house.
When she arrived, only Nik's car rested in the driveway. No knocks or doorbell pressing, she just walked in directly to the living room. With the couch empty, Maya sat back down, tears running again now that she felt safe.
X
"Ow!"
"Lift your arms."
"Ow!"
"You're not lifting your arms."
"I am too."
"Not high enough. Higher."