Critical Care by Candace Calvert Read Free Book Online Page A

her foot could tap. "But I was wrong earlier.
The medical director needs to be at the debriefing tomorrow." Her
foot tapped faster as she pictured herself squaring off with Goliath.
"It's his day off, but have administration page him and say Claire
Avery insisted."
    She smothered a yelp as Smokey bit into her toe. "Dr. Caldwell
is a big part of the problem."

    Logan nosed the Harley into a physician's parking space, then let
his boots slide from the pegs and down to the asphalt, straddling
the idling engine.
    As he peered through the visor of his helmet at the brick and
stucco back entrance to Sierra Mercy Hospital's ER, he weighed
his options. Cell phone messages failed, didn't they? Who could
prove he'd ever received notification of this Critical Incident Stress
Debriefing? If he'd been thirty minutes deeper into the Sierra
Mountains, he'd be out of phone range and on the threshold of
granite slabs, roaring waterfalls, towering pines, and quiet escape.
    It was his first day off in seven, and he shouldn't be here. The
week had been brutal and not only because of yesterday's day care
incident. Logan's throat tightened at the thought of the toddler
he'd worked so hard to save and the always awful moment of telling parents a child was gone-no, you had to say the word died to
make it real, final. To leave no merciful hope. "I did everything I could,
but Amy died."
    And he had done everything, even taken over the cardiac
compressions himself, pressing the heel of his hand over and over
against her little chest, willing the child to survive. Not wanting
to quit, all the while knowing that was irrational. Even if he could have started her heart, she'd been robbed of oxygen too long to
survive without devastating brain injury. Logan grimaced, remembering the stricken faces of the child's mother and grandmother
and the way the young father slammed his fist against the wall, his
cry like a tortured animal. Ah, man.

    He swallowed hard, pushing aside the memory. On his way back
to the hospital, he'd passed the charred Little Nugget Day Care, its
fence now adorned with flower bouquets, letters from children,
stuffed animals, and at least a dozen purple balloons. But it wasn't
only the day care incident that was weighing on him. It was the
continuing frustrations of limited staffing, the song and dance it
took to get money budgeted to replace outdated equipment, and
the need to jump through ridiculous hoops to comply with every
new federal, state, and HMO mandate. He'd become a doctor to
help people, make a difference in lives, and that shouldn't take a
backseat to anything.
    Logan gave the throttle a twist and felt his bike respond, proving its readiness to transport him away. The political problems
weren't any worse than the personnel issues coming across his desk
this week. Complaints: that agency nurse threatening to walk out
yesterday because ... What had she said to Erin? "Dr. Caldwell is a
slave driver and an inhuman beast." Not his first complaint. Nor his
last. It took time and effort to shape an effective medical team, and
there would be a certain attrition rate. So be it.
    Reaching down, Logan cut the bike's engine. He pulled off his
helmet and shoved the keys into the front pocket of his jeans. His
fingers brushed against a worn and folded sheet of stationery. The
invitation to Beckah's wedding. Only a couple of weeks away now.
Another reason he needed to escape today.
    But instead of pines, fresh air, and solitude, he'd be sitting in a dank staff conference room. With hospital coffee and tense,
nervous chatter. Being debriefed, for what that was worth. Maybe
he could head some of it off at the pass and keep the inevitable
psychobabble down to a dull roar. He'd meant what he'd said to
that educator about dwelling needlessly on tragedy; it only made
matters worse. Logan knew that better than most people.

    Claire Avery was the one who'd insisted on his attending this
meeting,