Charlie bit back an expletive. ‘Yes, you can. Look at me.’
Carrie couldn’t move. She could only see the blood. Her mind started to play tricks. She was getting flashes of another place and time. Another patient. Another life-and-death situation. So much blood. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to expel them.
‘Look at me!’
His command ricocheted across the space between them and Carrie’s head snapped up.
He saw the sheer panic in her eyes. ‘You’re doing really well,’ he said gently, lifting his hand and squeezing her shoulder. ‘The ambulance should be here soon.’
Carrie felt the warmth of his hand anchoring her in the suddenly spinning world and her panicked thoughts eased momentarily.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘C-Carrie,’ she said.
‘Hi, Carrie. I’m Charlie,’ he replied, and smiled. ‘I need you to slow your breathing down, OK? Do you think you can do that?’
Carrie nodded mutely.
‘Come on, Carrie, like this,’ he said, breathing deeply in and out himself. ‘Breathe with me, like this.’
Carrie forced herself to slow her breathing. It was hard at first, she didn’t feel like she was getting enough air into her oxygen-starved lungs. But following Charlie’s calm voice, mimicking his deep steady breathing—in and out, in and out—had an affect. His hand on her shoulder was immeasurably comforting. The tingling slowly subsided.
‘OK, now. Good. This is good. Much better. Well done.’
He smiled encouragingly at her. Carrie was aware somewhere inside her jumbled thoughts that he was talking to her like she was a frightened child, the way she spoke to Dana during a thunderstorm. And she was also aware that behind his calm façade his eyes kept flicking down to check the inert man on the ground. Their patient was in bad shape and she had to pull herself together.
‘I need to keep going here. Will you be OK? Just keep breathing, OK? In and out. All right?’
‘I’m sorry. I’m g-good now. I’ll breathe.’
Charlie searched her face. She still looked scared but the panic was gone. ‘OK.’ He nodded and turned his attention back to his patient.
What first? He needed a collar to stabilise the patient’s neck before he manipulated it to improve the airway. He didn’t have one. He made a mental note to put a collar in the kit for future use and moved to plan B. He knelt so that the patient’s head was between his legs, his knees and thighs providing support for the head and neck.
He experimented with some gentle jaw support and chin extension and was relieved to hear the breathing become much less noisy. He reached for his portable suction unit, pushed the mask aside and placed the sucker inside the man’s mouth. Blood slurped into the tubing.
Carrie startled at the loud mechanical noise. She saw the red fluid track down the tubing and looked away quickly. Nausea roiled through her intestines again and for an awful moment she thought she was going to vomit. Her heartbeat surged and she coughed on a rising surge of bile.
Charlie looked up quickly. ‘You OK?’ The look on her face was worrying. He could hear her fear in her tortured breathing as she struggled to get herself back under control. ‘In and out, Carrie. This is nearly over.’
Carrie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Charlie felt his conscience prick at what this experience was doing to her. First she’d nearly lost her life and second he was forcing her to do something she was clearly unsuited to. She was obviously one of those squeamish people who didn’t like the sight of blood, who flicked the channel over when a medical show came on television. It had to be hard for her. This sort of scene could be difficult for even hardened professionals.
She nodded, still not trusting herself to speak. ‘Do…do you think he’s going to d-die?’
Charlie was surprised to hear her talk. She looked mute with fear and her teeth were chattering loudly. Maybe she needed conversation to distract her from the grim reality of the situation? He had two choices. Truth or gloss.
‘Probably.’ He’d never much been one for gloss.
Carrie shut her eyes again.
‘He’s got a significant head injury and multiple fractures, including probable facial, which is compromising his airway. His pupils are fixed and dilated. He has a major arterial haemorrhage.’
Carrie nodded. Through the fog of her seized thought processes she knew these were significant, life-threatening injuries.
‘But it’s OK, I’m a doctor.’ He grinned despite the circumstances, knowing she needed assurance. ‘I’m not giving up yet.’
Carrie felt relief wash through her system. Maybe his confidence was wrong in the face of the severity of the situation but it helped calm her a little.