The elderly gentleman had come in originally because of a fall, but now, with this new onset of chest pain, Elana guessed it was more likely his fall had been caused by his heart problems in the first place.
“Definitely signs of ST depression, according to his twelve-lead ECG,” Brock murmured. “Let’s get him into the trauma bay so we have more access to equipment. I’ll call Cardiology so we can get this guy into the cath lab asap.”
Elana nodded, quickly explaining to Mr Reeves their plan. When she asked about his support systems, she learned his wife had passed away a year ago from colon cancer and he had two kids, a son and a daughter. He didn’t want to bother his kids, though, claiming they had their own families to worry about.
“I really think we need to call them,” she urged. “You may be having a small heart attack. I’m sure your son and daughter would want to know.” And hopefully they were decent kids who would come in to support their father.
Mr Reeves grudgingly agreed, and Elana quickly called the son, Kirk, who willingly took responsibility for getting in touch with his sister, Lisa. Satisfied her elderly patient wouldn’t be alone for long, she hurried back to his side.
“Your son, Kirk, is on his way,” she told him. “And he’s going to call Lisa too.”
“Thanks,” he whispered. His face had gone pale, and there was a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.
“Are you having more pain?” she asked in concern.
“Maybe a little,” he grudgingly admitted.
Catching Brock’s eye, she waved him over. “Mr Reeves is having pain; can I give him more morphine?”
“Absolutely. Give him five milligrams and move up to ten as needed. Draw a troponin level if you haven’t already. The cardiologist is on his way down.”
“I already drew the troponin with the rest of the labs; we should have the results any minute.” She hurried over to the medication machine to withdraw the narcotics for her patient.
Mr Reeves visibly relaxed after he received the additional pain medication. His troponin level was elevated, so the cardiologist wasted no time in arranging for transport to the cardiac cath lab.
“Wait,” Mr Reeves protested. “I need to wait for my son.”
“You can’t wait, Mr Reeves,” Elana said gently. “There isn’t time; the quicker they can get your heart fixed, the less damage you’ll have. I promise I’ll talk to Kirk when he gets here. Your son will be in the waiting room when you’re all finished, okay?”
“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed.
“Nice job,” Brock murmured as the cardiology team wheeled Mr Reeves away. “You handled that very well.”
His offhand praise made her blush. “Er, thanks.” They’d been so busy since the start of their shift, the stilted awkwardness between them from the day before had vanished. She wasn’t sure it was a good thing. Could she really just pretend Felicity’s death meant nothing?
No. But at the same time, there were other, more important things to worry about. Like the situation with Lacey, Tucker and Brock’s brother.
Gathering her courage, she looked him in the eye. “Brock, do you have a few minutes after our shift to talk?”
He looked surprised, but readily agreed. “Of course. I can be available at any time you need.”
His eagerness made her feel guilty. Did he think they were going to rehash the past? Not likely. She hesitated, wondering if maybe she should give him a hint as to what she wanted to discuss.
“Elana, I’m glad you’re willing to talk to me,” Brock said in a low voice before she could think of a way to ease into the topic of his brother. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”
Really? Her cheeks felt hot all over again, and she cursed herself for succumbing to his charm. She wasn’t the least bit attracted to Brock Madison, and she didn’t need his approval to feel confident in her nursing skills.
“Elana? I’m back,” Raine said, walking up to them. “It’s your turn to take a break.”
She took the chance to escape gratefully. “Thanks, I’m starved. See you later,” she said to Brock before hurrying away.
Good grief, she needed to pull herself together, and quick. The purpose of her chat with Brock was solely to explain her concerns about Lacey and Tucker.
Once she’d let Brock know what was going on with Lacey and Tucker, she’d have no reason to speak to him on a personal level again.
Brock couldn’t control the wide grin on his face as he either helped dispatch patients home or admitted them to the hospital, depending on the extent of their illness.
Even though he doubted that Elana was totally going to let him off the hook the way she had in his dreams, he was thrilled she was finally going to give him a chance to explain.
Nine years ago he’d gone to Felicity’s funeral, but that attempt to talk to Elana and her mother had ended in disaster. Her mother had all but tossed him out of the church, creating such a scene that he’d escaped before the police were called.
Good thing, since his policeman father had nearly boxed his ears after the accident as it was.
Months later, he’d tried to talk to them again, only to find Elana’s mother’s house was for sale. He’d soon discovered Louisa had suffered a complete nervous breakdown and Elana had been placed in foster care.
Shaken by the events that seemed to keep getting worse instead of better, he’d made it his business from that point forward to keep tabs on Elana from afar. Guilt had been his constant companion during those months following the accident, despite the results of Felicity’s autopsy. Those seconds before she’d pulled out in front of him had replayed over and over in his mind.
When he’d entered medical school, he’d buried his guilt and poured his energies into his studies. He ’d graduated top of his class, but he couldn’t have cared less.
He’d been determined to save lives. It was the only way he could live with himself.
Brock took a ten-minute break, checking his phone for voice mail messages, surprised to find a message from Lacey. She’d sounded upset, crying again, as she’d begged him to call her back.
Glancing at his watch, he realized she’d called almost thirty minutes ago. Wincing at the delay, he quickly dialed her number, hoping she hadn’t gotten bad news regarding Tucker’s health.
“Lacey? It’s Brock. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Brock, I don’t know what to do. Joel’s gone,” Lacey said between hiccupping sobs.
Brock frowned. “What do you mean, he’s gone? Gone to work? Is there something wrong with Tucker?”
“I took Tucker to the clinic, like you said. They did some tests, gave me medicine for him and told me to use different formula because he probably has colic. When I came home, I thought Joel was at work, but a couple of hours ago, they called here looking for him.”
A warning chill snaked down his back. Joel couldn’t have taken off, could he? Surely he wouldn’t risk losing his job, not when he had a baby to support. “Okay, don’t panic,” he said soothingly, hiding the depth of his concern. “I know Joel has been having a tough time lately. He probably just needed a little break. He’s likely having a drink or two with a couple of his buddies.”
“That’s what I thought too, at first,” Lacey said. “But I’ve called all his friends—no one has seen him all day. I even went to the bowling alley, his favorite hangout, but he hasn’t been there either. I’m scared, Brock. What am I going to do if he’s gone for good?”