airway and suction, then continue with the oxygen on high flow.”
Skylar noted the patient's blood pressure and his temperature in his chart, and then she looked over to the door and saw his wife and daughter standing in the corner.
“I also want some fluids started and connected to this line the paramedics have inserted. I want a catheter inserted so we can measure his output. Can someone call medical records and get me all of his medical history? I want to know what he's on and what his treatment plan is.”
Skylar helped to connect the fluids and put out extra blankets to make sure the patient was kept warm. “Stage four cancer.” She let the words lay between them. Her father had died of a brain tumor. Inoperable.
“Can his wife come in?” Skylar asked Nick.
Nick looked over his shoulder. “There's not much she can do here.”
Skylar let out a little sigh. Maybe Nick would never understand. “That's not the point.”
“Nick, there's a DNR.”
He nodded at the nurse who gave him the news and then looked at the mother and daughter at the door. “Fine. They can come in.”
Skylar called the mother and little girl. She got two chairs and then gave them some privacy. Nick was right—there was nothing they could do for the patient. Nothing except make him comfortable and make sure his family had time with him to say goodbye.
Nick went to the corner of the room, where he paged through the patient’s thick medical file, checking the notes to be sure of the diagnosis. When he came back to the patient’s side, he checked the monitor and the fluids and then went and sat down next to the mother.
Skylar hated this part of their jobs. Breaking bad news to people. Having to tell loved ones this was the time for their last goodbyes.
Nick didn’t take the wife’s hand, but he did make eye contact and his voice was sincere. “I've gone through your husband's notes. He has a DNR.”
The wife looked at Nick blankly. Nick turned to Skylar. In that moment, Skylar wondered why he looked to her. She always wondered how Nick’s mind worked. He always hid his emotions, but she knew deep down, he did care. He had to, or else why had she married him?
He studied the young woman, choosing his next words. “It means he has a ‘do not resuscitate order.’”
The couple must have married young, because she looked to be at least twenty-five years old. But the haunting expression in the depths of her eyes showed a woman of eighty. “What does that mean?” she asked.
Nick looked down at the chart. “He's going to die. In the next twenty-four hours.”
“Daddy.” The little girl pulled away from her mother and ran toward her father. She placed her hand on her father's mottled, cool hand.
Skylar had forgotten the child was in the room. She had been sitting by her mother's side so quietly, but Nick's final words had made her leap forward.
The mother stepped toward the child and took the child’s hand in hers. “Alice, it's okay.”
Alice looked up at her mother. “No, he's taking daddy away.”
Nick’s gaze flickered from Skylar to Alice before he focused his attention on the little girl.
His next words sounded matter-of-fact. “I’m not taking him away.” The choked sob from Alice made him pause. His jaw clenched, and then his hand settled on the child’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. We’ll keep him comfortable. Make sure he has what he needs, but I can’t change what’s going to happen. I can’t change fate.”
“Nick!” Skylar stepped forward.
The patient's wife cried out as the pain of Nick's words sunk in. Alice pushed past them and ran out of the room. Skylar tried to stop her, but the grief of the child was like a runaway bus with faulty brakes.
Skylar's gaze turned to ice as she looked at Nick. “Really?”
He shrugged and looked at the door as if that would bring back the girl.
Skylar shook her head. For a man in charge, he was a complete idiot when it came to the female mind.
“Call
Skylar noted the patient's blood pressure and his temperature in his chart, and then she looked over to the door and saw his wife and daughter standing in the corner.
“I also want some fluids started and connected to this line the paramedics have inserted. I want a catheter inserted so we can measure his output. Can someone call medical records and get me all of his medical history? I want to know what he's on and what his treatment plan is.”
Skylar helped to connect the fluids and put out extra blankets to make sure the patient was kept warm. “Stage four cancer.” She let the words lay between them. Her father had died of a brain tumor. Inoperable.
“Can his wife come in?” Skylar asked Nick.
Nick looked over his shoulder. “There's not much she can do here.”
Skylar let out a little sigh. Maybe Nick would never understand. “That's not the point.”
“Nick, there's a DNR.”
He nodded at the nurse who gave him the news and then looked at the mother and daughter at the door. “Fine. They can come in.”
Skylar called the mother and little girl. She got two chairs and then gave them some privacy. Nick was right—there was nothing they could do for the patient. Nothing except make him comfortable and make sure his family had time with him to say goodbye.
Nick went to the corner of the room, where he paged through the patient’s thick medical file, checking the notes to be sure of the diagnosis. When he came back to the patient’s side, he checked the monitor and the fluids and then went and sat down next to the mother.
Skylar hated this part of their jobs. Breaking bad news to people. Having to tell loved ones this was the time for their last goodbyes.
Nick didn’t take the wife’s hand, but he did make eye contact and his voice was sincere. “I've gone through your husband's notes. He has a DNR.”
The wife looked at Nick blankly. Nick turned to Skylar. In that moment, Skylar wondered why he looked to her. She always wondered how Nick’s mind worked. He always hid his emotions, but she knew deep down, he did care. He had to, or else why had she married him?
He studied the young woman, choosing his next words. “It means he has a ‘do not resuscitate order.’”
The couple must have married young, because she looked to be at least twenty-five years old. But the haunting expression in the depths of her eyes showed a woman of eighty. “What does that mean?” she asked.
Nick looked down at the chart. “He's going to die. In the next twenty-four hours.”
“Daddy.” The little girl pulled away from her mother and ran toward her father. She placed her hand on her father's mottled, cool hand.
Skylar had forgotten the child was in the room. She had been sitting by her mother's side so quietly, but Nick's final words had made her leap forward.
The mother stepped toward the child and took the child’s hand in hers. “Alice, it's okay.”
Alice looked up at her mother. “No, he's taking daddy away.”
Nick’s gaze flickered from Skylar to Alice before he focused his attention on the little girl.
His next words sounded matter-of-fact. “I’m not taking him away.” The choked sob from Alice made him pause. His jaw clenched, and then his hand settled on the child’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. We’ll keep him comfortable. Make sure he has what he needs, but I can’t change what’s going to happen. I can’t change fate.”
“Nick!” Skylar stepped forward.
The patient's wife cried out as the pain of Nick's words sunk in. Alice pushed past them and ran out of the room. Skylar tried to stop her, but the grief of the child was like a runaway bus with faulty brakes.
Skylar's gaze turned to ice as she looked at Nick. “Really?”
He shrugged and looked at the door as if that would bring back the girl.
Skylar shook her head. For a man in charge, he was a complete idiot when it came to the female mind.
“Call
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