The Baby Who Stole the Doctor's Heart by Dianne Drake Read Free Book Online

them exactly what Mark had said and, after she had clicked off, while Mark was making an evaluation of Richard’s arms and legs, Angela let her fingers stray to the same pulse point Mark had taken a reading from only moments earlier, hoping to learn, at firsthand, what it felt like. And, there it was, slow and thready, like Mark had said. To compare, she felt the pulse in her own neck andwas able to determine what a healthy one was compared to the one barely beating at her fingertips. The difference was astonishing. Frightening. For the first time in her life she truly comprehended that she was feeling the very essence of life, and while her essence was strong, Richard’s was slipping away.
    It didn’t take trained medical experience to know that.
    â€œI think it’s his hip,” Mark said, standing. “Can’t tell for sure, but that would be my guess for a primary injury. Everything else going on is probably a result of that. Look, I’m going to run to the truck for my bag. I’ll be back right back.” He didn’t wait for her reply. He simply turned and ran down the footpath with a stride and strength she couldn’t have possibly matched. Which left her there alone. Richard Whetherby’s only lifeline for the next minute.
    â€œRichard,” she said. “It’s Angela. Angela Blanchard. I’m here with Mark Anderson, one of the doctors from the hospital. We’re going to take good care of you, get you all bundled up and take you to the hospital in just a couple of minutes.”
    No response, of course. No movement either. Because of that, Angela wanted to feel Richard’s life force again, just to reassure herself. So she laid her fingers back on his pulse point, but couldn’t find the faint rhythm she’d felt before. Anxiously, she tried again. Moved her fingers from side to side, up and down a little, yet still couldn’t find his pulse. Suddenly, it hit her like that proverbial lightning bolt! “Mark,” she screamed, rising up on her knees to position Richard’s head back a little. She’d taken a CPR class years ago but hadn’t ever practiced it except on a dummy. But now… “Mark!” she screamed again as she forced Richard’s stiff jaw open and bent to give him a breath. Actually, she gave him several…couldn’t remember how many, but she knew it had to be several. Then she reared up, threw off thecoat covering the man’s chest, pulled his own coat open, placed one of her hands on top of the other, went to the critical spot in his chest she remembered from her instruction, and started to pump. “One, two, three…” she said aloud, fearing she wasn’t pressing hard enough, or that she was pressing too hard. She remembered something about bad positioning and broken ribs and punctured lungs.
    â€œAngela!” Mark said, dropping down beside her.
    â€œI couldn’t find a pulse,” she gasped, scooting aside while he took over the chest compressions. “So I…” Rather than finishing the sentence, she positioned herself at Richard’s head, counting each and every one of Mark’s chest compressions. “Is it thirty to two?” she asked.
    He nodded. Didn’t look at her. And as she counted down the thirty, she got ready for the next two breaths, repositioned Richard’s head, drew in her own deep breath, then laid her mouth to his. She and Mark alternately repeated their resuscitation efforts for the next few minutes…minutes that felt like an eternity, neither one of them uttering a word as they concentrated on what had to be done. Then, finally, in the distance, came the wail of a siren. A flash of relief passed between them in the fleeting glance they allowed themselves.
    â€œWhere are you?” a voice from the road yelled.
    â€œTwenty yards down the footpath,” Angela yelled.
    â€œAngela,” Mark said. “Can you hold the