Virgin River (17 page)

She did as she was told while Mel got the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope out of the bag. Connie’s pressure was high, but within seconds some of the pain was easing. The nitro might be working. “That better?”

“A little. My arm. I can hardly move my arm.”

“Okay, we’ll take care of that.” She snapped on a pair of gloves. She pulled the rubber strap around Connie’s upper arm and started searching for a good vein, slapping her inner arm with two fingers. She tore open the package containing the IV needle and inserted it
slowly. Blood eased up the clear tube and dripped on the floor. Mel then capped it off because she had no tubing or bag of fluid.

A moment later she heard a sound she didn’t recognize and looked out of the back room to see old Doc wheeling a squeaky old gurney into the store. He left it in the store aisle and picked up a bag of Ringer’s solution from its bed, handing it to Mel, while he toted a small portable oxygen canister. He put the cannula around Connie’s neck and into her nostrils while he asked, “What’ve we got?”

As Mel hooked up the tubing to the needle and the Ringer’s to the tube, she said, “Elevated pressure, diaphoretic, chest, back and arm pain…I gave her an aspirin, and the nitro.”

“Good. How’s that pill working, Connie?”

“A little,” she said.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. Put her on the gurney in the back of the truck, you beside her holding the Ringer’s and monitoring her pressure, and if you think we have to stop for any reason, you bang on the window. The black bag goes with you—you have oxygen, a portable defibrillator in the truck bed, and I want you to draw an eppie and atropine right away, to have ready.” He went back to the gurney, pushed it into the very narrow space in the back room, and lowered it. He shook out and spread a large, heavy wool blanket over the sheet and said, “Okay, Connie.”

Managing the IV bag and tubing, Mel supported Connie under the arm so that she could be transferred from her chair to the lowered gurney. Doc lifted the back slightly so that she wouldn’t be lying flat, then wrapped the blanket around her and strapped her in. He
put the oxygen canister on the gurney between Connie’s legs, then said to Mel, “Have Joy hold up the bag of Ringer’s while we get her out of here.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for an ambulance?”

“Not the best idea,” he said while together they lifted the gurney to its former upright position. As they rolled out of the store, Mel once again in control of the IV bag, Doc said, “Joy, as soon as we get out of here I want you to call Valley Hospital and ask them to get a cardiologist to meet us in E.R. Tell Ron to meet us at Valley.” Doc and Mel released the legs on the gurney and slid it in the back of the truck. Doc took off his heavy wool coat and draped it over Connie. As he would have headed for the driver’s door of the truck, Mel grabbed his sleeve.

“Doc, what the hell are we doing?”

“Getting her there as fast as possible,” he said. “In you go. You’re going to be cold.”

“I’ll manage,” she said, climbing into the truck bed beside Connie.

“Don’t bounce out,” Doc said. “I don’t have time to stop and pick you up.”

“Just drive carefully,” she said, already dreading those narrow, curving roads and sheer drops, squeaking by big logging trucks, not to mention the darkness and drop in temperature as they passed through the towering trees.

He jumped in, pretty spry for seventy, and put the truck in gear. He made a wide turn in the street, Mel in the back of the truck, holding the Ringer’s above Connie’s head because there was no IV stand on this old gurney. As they drove out of town, Jack was just returning. But Mel’s attention was focused on Connie. She balanced the bag of Ringer’s on the gurney above
Connie’s head, and dug around in Doc’s black bag for syringes and vials, drawing her drugs quickly despite the hectic driving and bouncing. She capped the syringes and took up the IV bag again.

Just don’t arrest, Mel kept thinking. Just to be safe, she used one hand to open the portable defibrillator case, having it handy to be switched on if necessary. It was the kind used on commercial airlines; rather than paddles, there were patches that adhered to the chest. Rather than bare Connie to the cold before it became necessary, she decided not to attach the patches to her chest. Then, with one hand over her head, she leaned her body close across Connie’s to keep her warm.

She had to give Doc a lot of credit for fancy driving. He managed to move down the mountain at a pretty fast clip, braking suddenly for the sharp curves and picking up speed for the straightaways while avoiding potholes and bumps. Mel was freezing, but Connie was taking steady breaths and her pulse was even and slower, when from the sheer fright and the ride in the back of the truck, it should probably be racing.

“That Doc,” she said breathlessly into Mel’s ear. “He sure is bossy.”

“Yeah,” Mel said. “Try to rest.”

“Oh, sure,” she whispered.

Mel had to switch the arm that held the Ringer’s several times, she got so sore. And even when she stayed low in the bed of the truck, the wind was chilling her to the bone. May in the mountains, under the shade of huge, towering trees, was not warm. She tried to imagine doing this in winter, and she got colder. Her cheeks were numb, her fingers nearly without feeling.

After just over an hour ride, they pulled into a
parking lot in front of a small hospital where two med techs and a nurse stood ready in the parking lot, waiting with their own gurney.

Doc jumped out of the truck. “Take her on my gurney—I’ll get it later.”

“Good,” one said, pulling the gurney holding Connie out of the back of the truck. “She have any meds?”

“Just an aspirin and a nitro tab. Ringer’s TKO.”

“Gotcha,” he said. “Emergency staff standing by,” and off they went, running with the gurney across the parking lot.

“Let’s go, Melinda,” he said, moving a little more slowly now.

Mel began to realize that waiting for emergency transport could have been a tragic mistake—it could have turned that trip into three hours. As she waited with Doc in the emergency room, she learned that Valley Hospital was small but efficient, serving the needs of many small towns. They were capable of labor and delivery, C-sections when the infant and mother were not at major risk, X-rays, ultrasounds, some general surgeries, lab work and outpatient clinic, but if something as serious as emergency heart surgery or major surgery were required, a larger hospital was needed. It was a while before the doctor finally came out. “We’re going to run an angiogram—I think we’re looking at blockages. She’s stable for the moment, but they may be considering bypass surgery as soon as possible. We’ll transport her by helicopter to Redding for that. Has her next of kin been notified?”

“He should be here any minute. We’ll wait for him here.”

Within ten minutes, Connie was wheeled past them
and down the hall. Another ten minutes brought Ron with Joy into the emergency room doors. “Where is she? Is she all right?” Right behind them were Ricky and Liz, straight from school.

“They’ve taken her for an angiogram—it’s like an X-ray of blood vessels. Based on what that test tells them, they’ll decide whether or not she needs surgery. Let’s go to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee and I’ll try to explain it to you—then we’ll go see how they’re doing on that test.”

“God, Doc, thank you,” Ron said. “Thank you for getting her help.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “Thank Melinda. She saved Connie’s life.”

Mel’s head jerked toward him in surprise.

“It was her fast action—that aspirin and calling for help—not to mention her ride in the back of my pickup, that I believe allowed us to get her to the hospital so fast.”

It was nine o’clock before Mel and Doc got back to town, and of necessity they both headed for Jack’s, more than a little grateful he had stayed open. And she knew he’d stayed open for them. Doc asked for his whiskey and Mel said, “I think I better have one, too. Maybe something a little smoother than that.”

Jack poured her a Crown Royal. “Long day?” he asked.

“Shew,” Doc said. “We spent most of it waiting for a decision. Connie’s going to have bypass surgery in the morning. We waited around until they transported her to Redding.”

“Why didn’t we just take her to Redding?” Mel
asked. Both men laughed. “What? I looked at the map before I even came up here. It’s just over a hundred miles of highway.”

“It’s about a hundred forty, Mel,” Jack said. “Narrow, two-lane, over the mountains. Would take about three hours to cross at best from Eureka. Probably closer to four. Coming from Virgin River—five.”

“Jesus,” she moaned.

“I think Ricky is taking Liz to her mother’s for the night while Ron and Joy will make the long drive to Redding to spend the night at Connie’s bedside. They’re a little on the nervous side,” Doc said.

“No doubt,” Jack said. “I saw you flying out of town. I couldn’t tell who you had in the back—I just saw Mel hanging on for dear life.”

Doc took a sip. “She came in kinda handy.”

“What would you have done without a little help?” she asked him.

“I probably would’ve thrown Joy back there. But who knows if we’d have gotten that far. You know how great one little aspirin is for a heart attack?”

“Hmm.” Mel took a sip of her drink and let her eyes slowly drift closed appreciatively.

“Connie’s going to be all right?”

“Oh, better than all right,” Doc said. “People go into that surgery a little gray around the gills and they give them nice fresh, clear arteries to float their oxygen through and they come out rosy cheeked and brand-new.”

Mel took another sip. “Oh, God, I didn’t think I’d ever be warm again.”

“You want me to light the fire?” Jack asked her.

“No, just let me drink this. Tell Doc I caught a fish today.”

“She did,” he said. “Wasn’t much of a fish, but she caught it herself. Even if she couldn’t take it off the hook without help.”

Doc peered at her over his specs and she lifted her chin a bit defiantly. “Careful, Melinda,” he said. “You could become one of us.”

“Not likely,” she said. “Not until you at least get a camper shell. We’d have been better off in the back of my BMW.”

“You’d have been better off,” Doc said. “That piece of shit isn’t big enough for a patient having a heart attack and a practitioner trying to keep her alive.”

“I’m not going to fight with you for saying that,” she said. “Because you at least called me a practitioner and not a nurse. You seem to be coming around, you old fart.” She looked up at Jack. “We keeping you up?”

“Nah,” he said, chuckling. “Take your time. In fact, I’ll join you.” He reached behind him and selected a bottle, tipping it over a glass. He lifted it in a toast to both of them. “Good team work, amazingly. Glad everything’s okay.”

Mel was exhausted, most of which came from the ride and long afternoon of tensely waiting at the hospital. Connie, she realized without much surprise, was more than a patient to her—she was a friend. And when you do this kind of work in this kind of place, your patients are almost always your friends. Must be hard to maintain objectivity. On the other hand, success was that much more gratifying. Fulfilling.

It wasn’t like this in L.A.

Doc finished his whiskey and got up. “Nicely done, Melinda. We’ll try to have a dull day tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Doc.”

After the doctor left, Jack said, “Sounds like maybe the two of you have started to bond or something.”

“Or something,” she said, sipping.

“How was that trip to Valley Hospital?”

“Like Mr. Toad’s wild ride,” she said, making him laugh a little. She pushed her glass toward him and he gave her another splash of Crown.

“You want ice or water with that?” he asked her.

“No, this is good. Very good, in fact.”

She sipped her drink rather too quickly. She looked up at him, tilted her head to one side, then inclined it toward the glass.

“You sure? Because I think maybe that’s enough. Your cheeks are flushed and I can tell, you’re not cold anymore.”

“Just a tish.”

A tish was what she got—a couple of swallows.

“Thanks for taking me fishing,” she said. “Sorry you didn’t get in my pants again.”

A large surprised laugh escaped him. She was getting a little tiddly. “That’s okay, Melinda. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Aha! I knew it!”

“Like it’s been hard to tell.”

“You’re so transparent.” She downed the rest of her drink. “I’d better get going. I’m completely shot.” She stood up and nearly fell down. She grabbed at the bar to right herself and Jack came around to her side. He put an arm around her waist. She looked up at him with watery eyes and said, “Damn. I forgot to eat.”

“Let me make you some coffee,” he suggested.

“And ruin this perfectly good buzz? Hell, I’ve earned it.” She took a step and wavered. “Besides, I
don’t think it’ll make me sober. Probably just wide-awake drunk.”

Jack tightened his hold around her and laughed in spite of himself. “All right, Mel. I can put you in my bed and take the couch…”

“But sometimes I have deer in my yard in the morning,” she said, a little whiny. “I want to go home. They might come back.”

Home.
That sounded good to Jack, that she thought of that cabin as her home. “All right, Mel. I’ll take you home.”

“That’s a relief,” she said. “Because I’m pretty sure I already can’t drive. Even on a straight and undangerous road.”

“You’re a lightweight,” he said.

They took a couple of steps and her legs buckled a second time. He gave a sigh and bent to lift her into his arms. She patted his chest. “It’s good that you’re strong,” she said. “You’re good to have around. It’s like having my own personal valet.”

He chuckled under his breath. Preacher had gone upstairs for the night so he turned off the Open sign and managed to get his keys out of his pocket without dropping her. He locked the front door and took her down the steps and around to the back of the bar where he kept his truck. He put her in and she managed, though with some difficulty, to buckle her seat belt. When he got in and started the truck she said, “You know something, Jack? You’ve turned out to be my very good friend.”