Short story - Trauma room

femur61

After years of watching ER and Casualty I decided to write something. This is not my comfort zone of writing. If people care to take the time to read it I'd appreciate feedback, no matter how short and be completely honest. The only way to improve is with peoples honesty.



As long as I remember I wanted to be a doctor to help people, to make a difference, who wouldn’t want that. They told us at University, a doctor is part of a team. We would work together, but they never told us that team would become our family, but they didn’t tell us about the enemies we would meet. As I stood looking at the square building, the sirens, people rushing in, a smile radiated through my whole body. I could make a difference to people's lives.

Yes, it’s sad to see people crying uncontrollably, collapsing in each other's arms, but plenty of people collapse in relief. I felt as alive as the crisp blue morning, the frost was nearly gone, the budding trees alive. I am here. I got here with hard work, with tears and sleepless nights, but I am here. I can change people's lives with my hands, and with my words, and it's usually for the better.
The electric doors whooshed open as I neared the entrance, but it wasn’t for me. The fast clicking of trolley wheels behind me only meant one thing. Two paramedics rushed past me, the blood on their blue uniforms like large patches of death. A young nurse ran past me. Running to the main desk I already had my denim jacket off and threw it along with my lucky but worn duffel bag on the counter for Derrick, he knew what to do he, was our fall guy.
The paramedic holding the drip gave the vital signs to the doctor, ‘BP falling; large knife would to the abdomen, heart rate weak.’
The female paramedic pushing the trolley with one hand and the other holding a small girl saying calmly, ‘It’ll be all right; it'll be fine.’ But the words didn’t slow the girl's tears. I knew they were false words. Blood seeped fast out of the dressing. Three nurses in white uniforms were already covered in blood, blood everywhere. The floor was the same colour of death now.
‘Ok, people we're in trauma 1.’ Mrs. Smith was now in control. She was good. Everyone listened to her. Her sleek black hair matched her dark eyes. She glistened. She thrived in these situations.
I continued to listen, to wait for my orders. I was less than a month; this was my first real emergency. The adrenaline rushed through my veins. I could feel, it. What did my lecturer say, Breath, breath and continue breathing.

The smell of whisky wobbled over to me. The stink of years of streets shouted to no one, in particular, over the heads of all the other drunks in the room, ‘I’ve been waiting two hours.’
‘Paddy, it's not a good time, ‘ Paddy only wanted warmth and tea. Frank, the only male muse in the emergency department, patted his shoulder, ‘Go on Paddy sit down.’ He put him in between a mother nursing a crying child and a poker-faced man. We were always told to keep the drunks apart in the waiting room.

‘Sarah,’ my name shouted from behind the double doors. I immediately ran towards the voice into the trauma room. The swing doors opened as I rushed in, three other trolleys with doctors and nurses busy around each one doing what they were trained to do. The bright lights and the chaos around, was I suppose, more controlled.
‘Stand there,’ Mrs. Smith pointed at the spot near the beeping ECG; the printout was erratic, tachycardiac.
‘Ok tell me what happened. Quick she is gone into VF, get the paddles. Stand back. Clear.’
The paramedic still holding the crimson red bandage from the woman's abdomen said, ‘ Her daughter phoned 999,’ she nodded to the little girl standing alone under the sterile dispenser on the wall. Her eyes red sore, and one of her pigtails had come loose and some of her hair had stuck to the congealed collection of snot on her upper lip; the Philtrum, pleased with myself, I could think under pressure.
‘She said a man stuck a knife in her mother's tummy. He and the knife were gone when we arrived, so I don’t know, she didn’t say anything else. The police are there now.’
Mrs. Smith pulled back the bandage carefully, ‘Sarah come over here.’
This was the moment I was waiting for. I was ready. I stepped forward, breathing in, waiting for my instructions.
‘Take the daughter to the vending machine, and try to find out what happened.’
At the other side of the room, it went quiet. The machine stopped beeping. I heard the soft wail of death.
‘Come on we’ll go to the relative's room, come on luv.’
‘Noo,’ the wife or girlfriend screamed, thumping the nurse who had her arms around her.
‘Sarah,’
I jumped bringing me back to the situation we were dealing with.
‘Take her out - now.’
One of the doctors was sticking a tube down the girl's mothers throat.
I grabbed the little girl's hand. It was cold. She wouldn’t move as I tugged her hand to move with me, wide-eyed staring at her mother.
‘Come on, we’ll get chocolate.’ I dragged her; she was heavy for such a little thing. I was going to ask her was she okay? She was holding her abdomen as well but there was no blood, and her face showed no pain. However, it could be shock.
As the wail from the other side of the room intensified, I looked back the frenzy around the little girl's mother was so controlled. I wasn’t ready yet.
‘Out Sarah.’
I checked my pockets for money. Derrick stood talking to another porter near the vending machine at the entrance of the ED, ‘Derrick, do you have some money? For chocolate, for.. ‘ I got down on my hunkers taking the hands, rubbing her fingers softly, ‘Whats, your name sweetie.’ She didn’t answer, just stared ahead. This is harder than I thought it would be.
A tap on my shoulder, Derrick gave me a 2 euro coin. I nodded thanks to him, talking quietly to the girl, ‘I know you're frightened, but your mum will be all right. Do you want some hot chocolate?’ I continued, ‘My granny thought it was a cure for every situation in life, emotional or physical. She would give you the chocolate and wrap you in a blanket and her arms, saying, “Drink this. Everything will be all right."'
I looked at the trauma room. The doors closed, but I saw silhouettes feverishly doing their job saving her mums live.
‘Come on sweetie.’ She didn’t resist as I pulled her towards the drink's machine.
I got steaming chocolate, sitting down on the plastic seats behind us. I put my arm around her just like my granny did. ‘Whats your name, ‘ She didn’t answer; I coaxed her to take a sip. The tears flowed. She put took another sip. ‘That’s ok take your time.’
‘Jane.’
‘Jane your mum will be fine.’ Pausing I said gently,’ What happened?’ She said nothing, well what would you expect her to say anything?
She whispered something. I had to move into close to her to hear.
‘Mammies friend did it. He is horrible, he’s smelly and mean; he took my sweets.’
‘That’s awful,’
What a horrible thing for a child to see, hugging her tight. I soothed her with words and rubbing her arms just like granny. She jumped up screaming in front of me, shouting something, I couldn’t understand her. I felt a hot liquid on my neck, a sharp pain. I pulled my hand from my neck the liquid on my hot it was red. I fell, now I could hear her, ‘He stuck it in just like that.’
I saw lights, heard voices. I was on the ground. I saw Derrick holding a struggling Jane, blood dripping from a long kitchen knife she held limply with her hand. Mrs. Smith kneeling beside me, she was saying something soothing.
Now I lie here the machines beeping all day long. Bright lights above me, the white tiles on the roof, I counted all the little indentations, 1,000,564. The said I’d live, but Janes's mammy didn’t. I saw the news; the boyfriend was never found. She never had a boyfriend, only the girl's fingerprints on the knife.
I’ll never speak, or move. They told me a blood clot caused a stroke - just like granny.




‘

heathledgerlove

Holy cow! What an ending. That was really, very good! I was on tenterhooks.

I think the action scenes were written well; reflected the fast frantic pace of the ER. Also good characterization considering it's such a short piece!

Actually the only part I would change would be to leave out the first paragraph; I think that the line, "Yes, it’s sad to see people crying uncontrollably, collapsing in each other's arms, but plenty of people collapse in relief" is a much catchier and more original opener and it becomes clear very quickly that the narrator is a doctor without you having to explain it.

I especially liked your use of simile and metaphor, the blood on the uniforms "like large patches of death" - dramatic!

And "The stink of years of streets shouted to no one, in particular, over the heads of all the other drunks in the room, ‘I’ve been waiting two hours.’" Great line, very evocative! Says something descriptive about the scene, whilst passing comment on the wider social problems of alcoholism and hospital overcrowding. All in one sentence, well done.

femur61

heathledgerlove wrote: »

Holy cow! What an ending. That was really, very good! I was on tenterhooks.

I think the action scenes were written well; reflected the fast frantic pace of the ER. Also good characterization considering it's such a short piece!

Actually the only part I would change would be to leave out the first paragraph; I think that the line, "Yes, it’s sad to see people crying uncontrollably, collapsing in each other's arms, but plenty of people collapse in relief" is a much catchier and more original opener and it becomes clear very quickly that the narrator is a doctor without you having to explain it.

I especially liked your use of simile and metaphor, the blood on the uniforms "like large patches of death" - dramatic!

And "The stink of years of streets shouted to no one, in particular, over the heads of all the other drunks in the room, ‘I’ve been waiting two hours.’" Great line, very evocative! Says something descriptive about the scene, whilst passing comment on the wider social problems of alcoholism and hospital overcrowding. All in one sentence, well done.

Thanks really appreciate your comments. I'm getting my novel critiqued and thought I'd try to write something out of my comfort zone. I've spent the last two years thinking of the smells and sounds of 1917 Dublin, lots of blood and death there as well! I might try my pen at some more short stories.

echo beach

After reading that I'm certainly looking forward to your novel.

The ending was really strong and I also didn't see it coming. I do think your watching of ER and Casualty may have had a bad influence as the setting doesn't correspond to my own experience of an Irish A+E, where I've never seen a doctor in the waiting room or on the corridors. The doctors stay firmly in the treatment area but why let reality get in the way of a good story?

I read somewhere that after writing a story you should take out the first and last line and if the reader would still know what is happening then leave them out. It is a good exercise. Obviously your last line has to stay but think about the first lines. They do include an important pointer that I missed because I assumed the enemies would be in the team. (That tells you something about the people I work with.)

Another small point is that I would say Sister Smith, Nurse Smith or even Mary Smith rather than Mrs Smith and there is a small typo near the end where it should be 'They said' not 'The said'.

Very good work to pack so much into a short piece.

femur61

echo beach wrote: »

After reading that I'm certainly looking forward to your novel.
I do think your watching of ER and Casualty may have had a bad influence as the setting doesn't correspond to my own experience of an Irish A+E, where I've never seen a doctor in the waiting room or on the corridors. The doctors stay firmly in the treatment area but why let reality get in the way of a good story?

Your right the doctors are tucked away safely from angry patients. I used Mrs. because she was a consultant, it would be less confusing if I used Dr.

Thanks for the feedback