Miracles in the ER by Robert D. Lesslie Read Free Book Online Page A

by a high-pitched scream. The young tech flew out of the room, her eyes wide and mouth gaping. She jabbed a finger behind her, pointing into cardiac, and ran down the hallway, disappearing around the far corner.
    “What tha—” The deputy jumped back and his hand flew to the handle of his holstered gun.
    Then it was Jackie’s turn. He bolted through the doorway—EKG electrodes and wires dangling from his chest and arms—and right into the enormous belly of the deputy. The law officer didn’t budge, but Jackie, weighing two hundred pounds less, bounced off and collapsed on the floor. He shook his head, glanced around the room, and was about to get up when the officer stepped over and put two heavy hands on his shoulders.
    “Hold on right there, Jackie. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
    The other deputy hurried over to the scene of the near escape, and the two of them lifted Jackie off the floor and carried him over to the stretcher. This time he was handcuffed to the rails—both arms and both legs. He wasn’t going anywhere.
    “Oh! My chest!” he wailed.
    “Yeah, right.” One of the deputies smirked. “You’d better behave, Jackie. Next time you try that, we won’t be so nice.”
    Jackie cocked an eye at him, opened his mouth to say something, but remained silent. He closed his eyes again and folded his arms over his belly.
    “Do what you gotta do, Doc,” the portly deputy told me in the hallway. “I know you need to check out his chest pain, but we’d like to get back to the jail as soon as we can. We’ll be right outside if you need us.”
    “It shouldn’t take long. We’ll let you know.”
    We would have to check out his complaints—at least finish the EKG we’d started. Probably going to have to find another tech to do that.
    His vital signs were completely normal. His physical exam, other than a multitude of tattoos, was unremarkable. And his EKG was fine. We would soon be releasing him into the loving care of the deputies.
    I was at the nurses’ station, finishing up his chart, when Harriet Gray walked out of cardiac and over to where I stood.
    “Troubled young man, Mr. Jackie.” She was smiling, but her furrowed brow betrayed her real emotion. “Troubled.”
    She walked over to the medicine room and disappeared through the doorway.
    I walked into cardiac to give Mr. Watts the good news. We were alone, and before I could say anything, he blurted, “Who was that woman? That old nurse who was just in here?”
    His eyes were narrow slits and his fists were clenched, struggling against the handcuffs. My face flushed and anger spread through me like a searing wave. He was talking about Harriet.
    “That’s nurse Gray. She—”
    “I don’t want her in here again! Do you hear me? Keep her away from me!”
    It was all I could do to remain calm and not get right down in his face.
    “You hear me?” he screamed again.
    I walked out of the room and through the ambulance entrance. The two deputies were leaning against the front hood of their patrol car and stood up straight as I walked over.
    “Your prisoner is ready to go, guys. You were right. There’s nothing wrong with him. Nothing we can fix.”
    Jackie Watts continued to follow the path of too many young men in this town—in a lot of towns. We would see him every couple of months, usually in the company of city or county officers, and with an assortment of injuries and ailments. He had a few stab wounds, broken bones, and at least two overdoses. And then he just disappeared. Several years went by, and he didn’t darken our doorstep.
    Then one day he appeared again. This time he came walking through the triage room with Lori Davidson, right up to where I stood. I recognized him immediately, and took a step backward.
    “Doc, you remember me? I’m Jackie Watts.”
    “He said it was important, Dr. Lesslie,” Lori said from behind the man, raising her eyebrows and shrugging. “That it would only take a minute. I hope it’s