Miracles in the ER (20 page)

She paused and shook her head. “It was Dr. Alexis, their pediatrician, who discovered the boy had HIV. I remember talking with Ansel right after he found out. He was worried, but told me the Lord would help his grandchild, and he would find some way to get him the best medical help possible. It was like a light went on with Ansel. He bonded with that child in a way that…in a way I’ve never seen. That’s about the time he gave him his new name—Pokie.”

“How did he ever come up with ‘
Pokie
’?” Amy chuckled.

“Well, the little chap was quite precocious and was walking way before
he was one year old. He was unsteady, of course, and a little slow. Ansel would hold out his arms and say, ‘Come on, Pokie,’ and the name stuck. He’s been ‘Pokie’ ever since.”

Virginia’s smile disappeared and she shook her head. “When that light came on for Ansel—that special bond between him and Pokie—it went out for Jasmine. Something in her mind just flipped, and her drug and alcohol problems got worse. She had a couple of close brushes with the law and then she was gone. Ansel hasn’t heard from her in more than four years. He’s not even sure she’s still alive. He’s been raising the boy as if he were his own son.”

We were silent for a moment, then Jeff asked, “What about Malcolm, the kid’s father?”

Virginia took a deep breath and sighed. “There’s the rub. He got out of prison six or seven months ago and came back to Rock Hill. He told Ansel he was a changed man and wanted to raise his son. You can imagine what Ansel thought, but there was nothing he could do. The courts were on Malcolm’s side, and he and Pokie moved in with Malcolm’s mother. Ansel would visit when he could, but Malcolm made it difficult.”

“Wait a minute!” Amy sat bolt upright in her chair. “Six or seven months ago…It was about four months ago that Pokie came to the ER with a broken collarbone. Remember? The story was he had fallen down a couple of steps.”

“That’s right.” Virginia nodded slowly. “That was the
first
time. And then there was the laceration on the top of his head. I can’t remember the reason Malcolm gave for that injury.”

“The
excuse,
you mean,” Jeff interjected. “I was here the night Malcolm’s mother brought Pokie in with a broken arm. We called the police and DSS.
You
called the police, as I remember it.” He looked at Virginia. “You were the first to know what was going on.”

“No, not me.” She shook her head and looked down the hall. “It was Ansel. Malcolm’s mother had called him and said they were on the way to the ER. He got here before they did.
He
knew what was happening, and he told me he was going to put a stop to it once and for all. That’s why I called the police. Ansel is a peaceful man, but you know how big he is—and strong as an ox. When it came to his Pokie, anything could happen.”

“I was standing right here.” Jeff turned and looked at the ambulance entrance. “Right in this spot, when Malcolm stomped through those
doors. It was a perfect storm. Pokie, his grandmother, and Ansel had just gotten back from X-ray and were standing right over there with a police officer.” He paused and pointed to the wall beside the cardiac room. “The woman from DSS was standing right beside them, writing up her report. Malcolm was drunk and hollerin’ and demanded that Ansel hand over his son. When he reached out for the boy, the police officer—smoothest thing I’ve ever seen—slapped his handcuffs on Malcolm, spun him around, and marched him out the door. Just like that, and he was gone.”

“Not been back, either,” Virginia added. “They had been investigating the case and had already decided to give Ansel custody of Pokie. That incident only cemented the deal. The woman from DSS told Ansel that night, and said he could take Pokie home with him—that Malcolm had no further claim to the boy. I’ve never seen a man hug a child so— Well, nobody was going to take him out of his arms.”

She leaned back in her chair and smiled at Amy.

“I understand now,” Amy said quietly. “The look on Ansel’s face that night—
that
was pure joy.”

Virginia nodded. “It
was
, Amy—it was pure joy. But that wasn’t all.”

Her voice broke and she looked away. When she turned around, there were tears in her eyes.

“It was also the look on Pokie’s face.”

T
HE
Miracle
OF
F
ORGIVENESS

We are most like beasts when we kill.

We are most like men when we judge.

We are most like God when we forgive.

W
ILLIAM
A
RTHUR
W
ARD
(1921–1994)

It’s Okay

Virginia Granger walked up behind Charlotte and put a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “I’ve got this one. See if you can help Dr. Stevens back in ortho. I think he has a fractured wrist to take care of.”

Charlotte Turner looked at her head nurse, and then her eyes started darting around the department, finally coming to rest on the closed ambulance entrance doors.

EMS 2 was on the way in with a seventeen-year-old male, the victim of an auto accident out on Highway 21. It didn’t sound very good—head injury, crushed chest. “ETOH on board,” the paramedic reported. The teenager had been drinking.

Charlotte was assigned major trauma and would normally be taking care of this patient when he arrived. Virginia had something else in mind. Charlotte was a good ER nurse, but she wasn’t ready for this. Not yet.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Granger. I’ll—”

“I want you back in ortho.” There was no mistaking the intent of her words, or her gently taking the younger nurse by the shoulders and directing her down the hallway. “We’ll be fine here. I think I remember how to help Dr. Lesslie.”

I was standing in the doorway, watching all of this and waiting for EMS 2.

“Thanks, Virginia,” I said quietly. “That was going to be tough.”

Charlotte walked slowly down the hall, glancing briefly over her shoulder at the ambulance doors. This was still hard for her—and had been since that night six months earlier.

It was midnight on an October Friday, and the “A Team” was on duty. Lori Davidson, Charlotte Turner, and Jeff Ryan were the nurses, and Amy
Connors was sitting behind the nurses’ station, making sure everything ran smoothly. My job was to stay out of their way.

“ER, this is EMS 1.” Denton Roberts’s voice shattered the hard-fought-for calm of the department.

“EMS 1, this is the ER. Go ahead.” Lori had the receiver in one hand, pen in the other, ready to make some notes on the pad in front of her.

“Five minutes out with a one-car 10-50. Is…Dr. Lesslie nearby?”

My head jerked in the direction of the radio. A 10-50—auto accident.
Why would Denton need to talk with me?

“He’s standing right here, EMS 1. Go ahead.” Lori looked over at me and shrugged.

“Can you give him the radio and switch off the speakerphone?”

“What in the world?” Amy said quietly, looking at Lori and then over to me.

“Must be something bad.” Charlotte had just walked over from triage and was leaning against the counter.

I nodded, and Lori said, “Okay, EMS 1, here’s Dr. Lesslie.”

She flipped the speakerphone switch and handed me the receiver. Amy leaned close to me, straining her neck to hear.

Something was up, and I stepped away from the desk and turned my back.

“Denton, this is Dr. Lesslie. Go ahead.”

“Doc, I saw Charlotte Turner in the ER earlier tonight. Is she still there?”

Denton’s voice was quiet, hesitant. Something was troubling him. I turned around and looked at Charlotte and my heart jumped into my throat. I looked away before she could see the blood draining from my face. I knew.

“Yes, still here. What’s going on?”

“This 10-50, it’s—the driver is a seventeen-year-old kid, and he’s fine. Drunk, but fine. The passenger—he wasn’t belted and was ejected from the car. Head and chest injuries and what looks like a broken neck.” Denton paused, and the silence was stifling. “Doc, it’s Charlotte’s boy, Russell. And he’s dead.”

I looked up again at Charlotte and our eyes met. She was talking with Lori, and smiling about something Amy had just said. She froze, staring at me.

“What is it, Dr. Lesslie? What’s the matter?”

Amy spun around and looked at me. Then she looked at Charlotte and down at the radio.

“Oh Lord.”

Denton never brought Russell’s body into the department. He called the coroner and took him straight to the morgue where Charlotte, her husband, and I were now headed. They would have to identify the body of their son. Lori was already there with Denton and the coroner.

They struggled forward as we walked down the quiet, lonely hallways in the back of the hospital. And then we were there, standing just outside the closed doors of the hospital morgue. Charlotte’s knees buckled, and her husband grabbed her just before she collapsed into the wall. They looked at each other, pushed the door open, and walked inside.

We slowly made our way back to the ER. Charlotte and her husband had their arms around each other and shuffled along as if on some powerful hypnotic drug. As we passed the doorway of minor trauma, they both looked in and suddenly stopped. Sitting on the back left stretcher, his head hanging and his feet dangling, was Bobby Green, their son’s friend and the driver of the demolished car.

Bobby looked up and into the eyes of the Turners. Charlotte shrank against her husband, and he took a step toward the door, his shoulders suddenly tense.

I stepped between them and the cowering teenager in minor. “Let’s go to the nurses’ station. We need to talk about a couple of things.”

Reluctantly, Charlotte’s husband gave ground, and we headed again up the hallway. Jeff Ryan met us at the desk. I leaned over and whispered, “Make sure the kid stays in minor.” He nodded, and quickly headed in that direction.

The ambulance doors opened. It was Virginia Granger, and she headed straight for Charlotte. She took the nurse in her arms and the two women held each other tightly, rocking from side to side. Lori and I looked away.

And now, six months later, we were once again dealing with teenage tragedy. Virginia and I took care of the young man in major trauma,
and Charlotte stayed back in ortho with Dr. Stephens until long after the patient had been transferred to another hospital.