The First

Chapter 2

Emma knew hemorrhages happened, but the baby's movement concerned her more. The lump in the patient's abdomen bulged in different places across the four quadrants, stretching the mother's frail skin. Experience dictated  ... with this amount of blood, there should be no movement.

No heartbeat.

The posse of hospital personnel rushed the gurney down the hall. She jogged behind and listened to the young medic's report.

"This is Stella Staten. She's 32 and in her third trimester of a traumatic pregnancy. Abdominal pain and severe vaginal bleeding started about an hour ago. BP is 90 over 68, heart rate is tachy and regular at 180 beats-per-minute. We ran an I.V. of Ringer's Lactate and gave her .5 milligrams of Morphine for pain."

"Does she have a history of pre-eclampsia, hypertension, or gestational diabetes?"

"No. Ma'am." He handed over his notes and dropped out of sight.

The group in front slid around a corner and rammed into the double doors of the operating room. Blood and debris shot out from under Stella's blood-soaked skirt and splashed against the double doors.

Stella sat up and screamed.

Emma had never seen anything like it in over 1300 deliveries she'd made in her career as an emergency OB/GYN.

Dan, one of the orderlies, backed away from the stretcher and wretched into a basket.

"Thanks, Mike." She nodded and smiled at the orderly who slapped the automatic door opener. The deep concern in his eyes took her back as he stared at the heart monitor.

Stella's heart beat like a locomotive, gaining speed with every horrific lump of coal placed in the fire.

"Did you give her anything for the pain?" Dr. Critchell scowled. The pompous Anesthesiologist had caught up with them a moment earlier. Everyone had told her what a nice guy he was, but that hadn't been her experience. It seemed at every corner he had something to whine at her about.

She gave him steel eyes. "She's had point five milligrams of Valium and a dose of Morphine. She should be out." With the amount of Valium she'd given Stella, along with the medic's morphine, the girl shouldn't have been able to move, let alone sit up and scream.

"Let's get her under...now!" He grimaced.

They would paralyze and intubate the woman and hopefully, Dr. Smith's magic would stop the bleeding.

Nurses Joanna and Petra, along with two new orderlies, rolled the gurney next to the operating table, holding Stella down. Her banshee's wail filled the room as she struggled. Petra let go and covered her ears. Her gloves smeared blood on her wrinkled forehead and streaked her hair.

Stella leaned over and punched Nurse Joanna in the face. Her nose exploded. Blood flowed into her mouth and down her chin. She pulled a Chux absorbent sponge from the crash cart next to her and pressed it against her face and left the room in tears.

Stella leaped off the table. The I.V. ripped from her arm.

She screamed.

Emma skipped to the side as a spurt of blood whizzed by.

Stella grabbed her belly and doubled over, holding her belly tight as if she didn't want the baby to come. She looked up. Her ghosted eyes circled.

Dr. Critchell bounced over the operating table and slammed a syringe into her shoulder. "This will do the trick." He depressed the syringe.

Stella slumped forward into the waiting arms of the doctors. Emma helped the men hoist her limp body onto the bed.

"Get your contaminated ass out of my operating room." Dr. Smith pointed at Joanna and motioned toward the door. She left in a huff. "Ever seen anything like that before, Rick?" Dr. Smith tucked the blankets under Stella's legs.

Dr. Critchell shook his head. "Nada." He stuck the laryngoscope into Stella's mouth and placed the tube down her throat, hooked her to the respirator, secured an I.V. drip, and adjusted her medications and oxygen saturation levels until she drifted into a chemically induced coma.

Emma gave a quick summary. She couldn't wait to get out of the room.

"Piece of cake." Dr. Smith examined his surgical equipment and picked out a scalpel, flashing it in the light.

"Well, I'm out. Thank God." Emma smiled.

"Not so fast." Dr. Smith held up a gloved hand and as he tore his eyes away from the scalpel. His baleful stare took in her clean appearance. "Looks like we're shorthanded."

Emma rolled her eyes. She knew the evil smirk he had under his mask.

"You'll need to scrub in." He once again held his scalpel up to the light. One little smudge and he'd have her get him a new one.

"Sure thing. Be right back, boys." She forced a grin. What she meant to say was, 'Screw you both. Have a good night.' Ugh. When I get home I'm taking the longest bubble bath in history.

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