Post by Dran on Sept 27, 2010 0:07:27 GMT -5
A doctor on the graveyard shift was sitting by the bedside of one of his patients, silently observing her condition. The woman, apparently in her late twenties, was in a coma. She had been this way now for five years, ever since the hurricane Katrina which had caused such devastation to this area. It had been a struggle for her family and naturally, for the hospital itself, keeping her in this room in such a state for so many years now.
There were even rumours floating around amongst the staff and the families of the patients of this facility that an "Angel of Death", as doctors who engage in the practice of euthanasia are sometimes referred to as, was currently on the prowl. Although nobody could prove anything, this doctor knew very well that his patient was almost certainly in mortal peril now.
Then again, she had just become his patient when he was recently "transferred" here only a few months ago. Since then he had been working tirelessly with the hopes of healing as many poor souls as he could. He chuckled to himself, scratching his chin and wearing what looked like a grimace as he thought about the truth of how and why he was transferred here, but that was neither here nor there. Right now, he was alone with her, and he had a job to do.
Looking around, carefully assuring that nobody was nearby whom could see, hear or sense what was going on, he immediately got to work on her. Sitting on the edge of a visitor's chair, he leaned forward so that his hand was clasping hers, and closed his eyes, concentrating intently. Almost immediately, her vital signs peaked, and she inhaled gluttonously. She shot up until her spine was almost completely erect, and her eyes burst open, darting to the source of the sensation on her hand. When she saw the doctor staring back at her with a compassionate smile, she exhaled gently and returned the gesture.
The doctor then let go of her and she began to hold her forehead with the now freed hand and shook it lightly. She then whispered, "I'm- I'm sorry... Who- are you? Are you a doctor? Am I... sick?"
The doctor's friendly smile transformed into a charming smirk as he responded, "Doctor Paul McKrakken, at your service, madam. This may come as a bit of a shock, but I am your doctor, and you my patient. I think it's best if I'm straight with you about this... You have been in a coma now for five years."
Paul was sensing a spike of panic from her now, prompting him to rise slowly and give clear hand gestures begging her to relax as he assured, "Now, now, don't panic! Your family is fine, their finances are... recoverable... The important thing is that you are alive and well and that tomorrow I will be able to get you discharged and back to them safely."
The woman hesitantly began to calm back down. "Can you really discharge me that quickly? Am I- stable?" she questioned, somewhat suspicious.
Paul gave a confident grin. "I'll have to pull a few strings, but... Your condition has improved dramatically over the past few weeks. It's a miracle, in fact! You'll have to spend the night this one last time, but..."
"I think that will be fine, doctor... And thank you." She smiled gratefully, tears beginning to well up.
He nodded his head in affirmation. "Believe me, madam, I didn't do much. Your recovery is owed much more to you than to you. And in any case I wouldn't be a doctor if I didn't like doing my best to ensure my patients didn't have to be here for long. Now please, if you'll excuse me, you're probably feeling parched. I'll get you a glass of water."
She nodded slowly, gently falling back on her pillow. "Yes... I'm... actually... pretty thirsty... Thanks..."
Paul then immediately left to pour her a glass of water, and came back in a minute or so and found her asleep again, but this time it was clearly temporary. Smiling, he placed the water by her bedside and went to report the "miraculous" change in her condition, lest this Angel of Death come along tonight with less than favourable plans on his or her mind for Paul's patient.
He wrote down a copy of his report on the clipboard attached to the front of her bed, closed the door gently behind him on his way out, and walked down the hallway with a pleased grin lining his face. "That makes seventy-one..." he whispered to himself, as he disappeared behind the elevator doors.
There were even rumours floating around amongst the staff and the families of the patients of this facility that an "Angel of Death", as doctors who engage in the practice of euthanasia are sometimes referred to as, was currently on the prowl. Although nobody could prove anything, this doctor knew very well that his patient was almost certainly in mortal peril now.
Then again, she had just become his patient when he was recently "transferred" here only a few months ago. Since then he had been working tirelessly with the hopes of healing as many poor souls as he could. He chuckled to himself, scratching his chin and wearing what looked like a grimace as he thought about the truth of how and why he was transferred here, but that was neither here nor there. Right now, he was alone with her, and he had a job to do.
Looking around, carefully assuring that nobody was nearby whom could see, hear or sense what was going on, he immediately got to work on her. Sitting on the edge of a visitor's chair, he leaned forward so that his hand was clasping hers, and closed his eyes, concentrating intently. Almost immediately, her vital signs peaked, and she inhaled gluttonously. She shot up until her spine was almost completely erect, and her eyes burst open, darting to the source of the sensation on her hand. When she saw the doctor staring back at her with a compassionate smile, she exhaled gently and returned the gesture.
The doctor then let go of her and she began to hold her forehead with the now freed hand and shook it lightly. She then whispered, "I'm- I'm sorry... Who- are you? Are you a doctor? Am I... sick?"
The doctor's friendly smile transformed into a charming smirk as he responded, "Doctor Paul McKrakken, at your service, madam. This may come as a bit of a shock, but I am your doctor, and you my patient. I think it's best if I'm straight with you about this... You have been in a coma now for five years."
Paul was sensing a spike of panic from her now, prompting him to rise slowly and give clear hand gestures begging her to relax as he assured, "Now, now, don't panic! Your family is fine, their finances are... recoverable... The important thing is that you are alive and well and that tomorrow I will be able to get you discharged and back to them safely."
The woman hesitantly began to calm back down. "Can you really discharge me that quickly? Am I- stable?" she questioned, somewhat suspicious.
Paul gave a confident grin. "I'll have to pull a few strings, but... Your condition has improved dramatically over the past few weeks. It's a miracle, in fact! You'll have to spend the night this one last time, but..."
"I think that will be fine, doctor... And thank you." She smiled gratefully, tears beginning to well up.
He nodded his head in affirmation. "Believe me, madam, I didn't do much. Your recovery is owed much more to you than to you. And in any case I wouldn't be a doctor if I didn't like doing my best to ensure my patients didn't have to be here for long. Now please, if you'll excuse me, you're probably feeling parched. I'll get you a glass of water."
She nodded slowly, gently falling back on her pillow. "Yes... I'm... actually... pretty thirsty... Thanks..."
Paul then immediately left to pour her a glass of water, and came back in a minute or so and found her asleep again, but this time it was clearly temporary. Smiling, he placed the water by her bedside and went to report the "miraculous" change in her condition, lest this Angel of Death come along tonight with less than favourable plans on his or her mind for Paul's patient.
He wrote down a copy of his report on the clipboard attached to the front of her bed, closed the door gently behind him on his way out, and walked down the hallway with a pleased grin lining his face. "That makes seventy-one..." he whispered to himself, as he disappeared behind the elevator doors.
