Chapter Sixteen
Still unconscious as he laid upon the operating table, Paul continued to be
totally oblivious of the surgery his body was undergoing. And if it were
somehow possible to remember anything, the last thing he would recall would be
resting in his assigned bed at Alamance Regional Medical, enjoying the company
of his mother and best friend. Unfortunately, a few short minutes after they
arrived; everything unexpectedly went dark.
*****
Inside the operating room at Duke Medical Center, the atmosphere was tense. The delicate but routine operation Dr. Matthews decided to use to introduce the school’s medical curriculum to students who might be considering going into the university’s medical program initially started smoothly. However, soon after the first incision, things steadily deteriorated.
Within a half-hour after the procedure began, the doctor realized an MRI, instead of standard X-rays, should have been performed. And soon after opening Paul’s rib cage, Dr. Matthews discovered far more hidden bone fragments and areas of residual clotting were present than what the x-rays had indicated.
To complicate things even further – Dr. Matthews discovered that the thrombus inside the Paul’s left ventricle was steadily increasing in size. Now, not only could complete blockage potentially occur at any given moment – the fine narrow line which separates life and death, was, in his opinion, in serious jeopardy of being crossed.
“Doctor. We’re losing him,” the nurse yelled as she helplessly watched Paul Pontiac’s heartbeat become increasingly irregular as the procedure to remove the thrombus methodically continued.
For a brief second, the doctor came to a halt and stared at the erratic heart monitor in front of him. This definitely isn’t good.
“Damn it. I was afraid this was going to happen,” Dr. Matthews eventually said, shaking his head. “The kid’s going into cardiac arrest. … Okay everyone. Let’s proceed with Code Blue procedures.”
Making a quick 180° turn, the doctor rapidly snatched the paddles from the defibrillating unit, and Nurse Higgins placed the required gel packs across both sides of their patient’s chest.
“Get ready, people. … Clear!” the doctor screamed, making physical contact.
The second 150 joules shot through him, Paul’s thin teenage torso bucked upward like a wild bronco at a rodeo. Unfortunately though, when he abruptly landed on the table below, the needle on the heart-rate monitor quivered for only a few milliseconds, then continued to draw a deathly straight green line.
“What in the devil is going on here?” Paul heard an echo of his voice say in a tone, which seemed more like an audible thought than something he had actually spoken as he viewed the surreal scene in front of him. “Where am I, and what is this place?”
Stopping so he could get a slight comprehension at what he was looking at, Paul first noticed the huge surgery light, which should have been located above the operating table.
For some unexplainable reason, it appeared to be at the same level he was located – near the roof, and just a few feet away in front of him. And below him, a traumatic scene similar to what he had seen on numerous medical dramas was taking place.
Hmm. This reminds me of one of those med shows where someone goes to the hospital and ends up dying on the table, Paul thought as he watched the action below. But how can this be – where’s the TV?
Paul grimaced as he scanned the environment around him. Something definitely didn’t seem right.
I must be dreaming.
Placing the pads on his patient’s chest, “Clear,” Dr. Matthews yelled. And again, Paul’s body violently jerked – but his heart flatly refused to cooperate.
Dr Matthews looked upward and quickly uttered a silent prayer.
“Come on, Paul. Work with me,” he yelled, while once again activating the pads on his patient’s chest. “You need to live … You’re way too young to be giving up the ghost.”
After watching Paul’s body jerked upward, his face rapidly paled with the realization that the carefully attached heart monitor remained flat-lined.
“Don’t do this to me, Paul,” he screamed as beads of sweat continued to drip from his forehead. “Don’t do it to yourself!”
And once again, the youth’s body heaved upward the moment the word “clear” started to reverberate throughout the sanitized room. Yet, the doctor’s efforts continued to show that they were totally in vain.
Twenty minutes later, Dr Matthews slumped in extreme disappointment and exhaustion admitted, “He’s gone.” And soon afterwards, a white sheet was slowly raised until the once vibrant teenage body was completely covered.
*****
“Hey. Wait a second, everyone. You’re not going to just give up, are you?” Paul frantically began to yell at the doctor and nursing staff as they initiate their wrap-up procedures.
However, no one seemed to be able to hear him.
“What’s wrong with you people? Whoever that kid is, he still may live if you give him another chance. Don’t stop now. Please don’t. You need to try at least one more time.”
“I’m sorry, doctor,” Nurse Higgins soulfully whispered as she approached the sink where Dr. Matthews was about to wash his hands. “We all know you did your best. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”
“I know … and thanks, Nancy,” he replied, gradually turning his head, so he could face her. “This just shouldn’t have happened though. This was supposed to be a standard routine. … Not to mention, Paul was too young and overall too healthy.”
Dr. Matthews sighed. “How in the world am I going to explain to Mrs. Pontiac that her son died under my care?”
Nurse Higgins gazed into the doctor’s dark-brown eyes and sadly shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Seconds later, Dr. Matthews removed his left glove and carelessly tossed it inside the metallic trash beside the sink.
Nurse Higgins, having worked with him for the past ten years, could tell he was a lot more disturbed than he wanted to let on.
“Is there going to be an autopsy?” she asked, after washing and drying her hands.
“Definitely. Especially since a potential criminal case is involved,” he replied. “Soon after the Pontiacs leave the premise, I’ll ask one of my associates in pathology to perform one. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you could ask someone to let me know the moment Mrs. Pontiac and her son, Nathan, have left.”
“Yes, Doctor. No problem.”