Tony Scott - Along Came COVID - Love and Loss in the 2020 Pandemic

There was a silence. “Will she be OK?” Jim’s voice didn’t sound like Jim.

“I hope so,” Josh answered.

“Is the baby OK?” Natalie wheezed.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to see. But at least we might have Faith.”

“I understand,” Jim responded. “Do you think she’ll be OK?”

“I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Just keep doing your jobs and communicate with us,” Jim said.

“I’ll call later.” Josh ended the call.

Ricky led Josh through the labyrinthine halls and stairs back to the little ICU in Labor and Delivery. They slipped inside the door as Peggy, Ann and a cluster of others maneuvered Faith’s bed into its place.

Haley came up to Ricky and Josh, “We had to extubate her. The pulse ox insists she’s breathing well. She responds to voices but has not communicated with us yet.”

“Why do you think that is?” Josh asked as Peggy approached.

“It’s the morphine,” Peggy said.

“How do you know that?” Josh asked.

Peggy pointed to her chest. “Opiates make slow, deep breaths. And pinpoint pupils.”

Josh walked right up to her and opened one of her eyes. “Pinpoint is right.” Faith reached up to bat his hand away. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Peggy, “Now that’s a great sign!” He danced back to where Peggy was standing.

Nasal prongs found their way to Faith’s nose, the monitor was replaced on the shelf, and oxygen was connected from the wall. Pulse ox ninety-two percent on five liters of oxygen, pulse rate eighty-six, and a welcomed normal rhythm on the monitor.

“Oh my gosh, this is good,” Peggy breathed. “I wonder where Ann is?”

“Standing right behind you!” Josh said, snickering.

“Oh, there you are. Are you OK?”

“I don’t know. Let’s watch a few minutes, I’m thinking I might be.”

The monitor kept pinging along, the pulse ox reading steady. Peggy stepped up to Faith and spoke loudly to her. She opened her eyes but didn’t look at Peggy. “Can you wiggle your toes?” The toes wiggled just a little. “Can you open your eyes?” They opened and closed. “Can you take a deep breath?” She breathed deeply, grimacing. “Do you know who Josh is?” She turned her head toward Peggy but didn’t open her eyes. “Do you know who Natalie is?” Now she opened her eyes. She wheezed a few unintelligible words. “That’s good enough for me,“ Peggy stated boldly, looking at Josh. “Her brain is working.”

“I can’t believe this worked. I thought you were being ridiculous with the radiology thing, making us code her in an elevator, and crowding us in a little room dressed in PPE and lead aprons.” Haley, red hair drenched with sweat, was grinning. “I will never forget this.”

“This is a miracle,” Ann agreed. There were dark sweat spots on Ann’s scrubs. “This was amazing. I won’t forget this either, Haley. And Peggy, look at poor Josh. He is still recovering from the stroke he had when Faith took her tube out.”

Peggy laughed. “I’m sure that’s true. The poor guy. Coronavirus, Faith on a ventilator, Faith codes, Faith survives a usually-lethal pulmonary embolus.”

After an hour or so, it was time for afternoon rounds. Ricky allowed the murmuring and talking to go on for longer than usual, understanding the gravity of the day’s events. Even the medical students were bubbling with questions and comments. Emily and Haley were among them, exchanging raillery.

“News travels fast,” Ricky said. “No, strike that. Haley is involved.” Apparently, Haley didn’t hear.

As the conversations gradually declined, Ann began rounds. “We got delayed by Faith, so we have some catch-up work to do.” The hubbub didn’t stop. “OK, you guys,” Ann announced to get more attention. “Faith was extubated this morning and then coded. It turns out she had a ‘saddle’ clot blocking most of the right main pulmonary artery, which was removed in radiology. As of now, she’s extubated, has good blood pressure, has talked to us and to Josh. Peggy, I can’t believe you pulled this off.”

“Whoopee,” Haley cheered.

There were virtual high fives.

“Gad,” Ann said. “That like to killed me!”

“Ricky, thank you for taking such good care of Josh,” Peggy said. “And you stifled you own distress!”

There was more conversation as they dispersed.

“I am looking forward to a quiet evening with Alicia.” Peggy said.

Emily came up for a more detailed sign-off. “Tell me what I need to do for her tonight.”

“Well, she’s off the ventilator, has communicated with Josh, and is no longer on medicines to keep her blood pressure up. Her morphine will wear off more during the evening, and then she may need more pain medicine. We started her on a heparin infusion, and that will have to be adjusted.”

“No problem,” Emily said. “Are you against using newer blood thinners in pregnancy?”

“No, I didn’t think of them.”

“We use them often in the hospital and in the office,” Emily said. “Heparin and low molecular weight heparin, in my experience, have frequent failures. And I think heparin failed Faith today.”

“I would say that’s correct,” Peggy said. “Good call. Maybe heparin is not the right choice. Can you change her over during the night?”

“Sure,” Emily said, “have a nice night. I won’t call you.”

In the ICU, Josh had not left Faith’s side, and had helped with her care, which is how he thought he earned unrestricted visiting. He had also supervised a blood transfusion on the adjacent patient. Brownie points were handy bargaining chips.

“Josh,” she whispered, “can I have more water?”

Josh put a straw in a Styrofoam cup with ice water. She took it down, one swallow at a time.

“My throat is sore,” she whispered. “My throat is super sore.”

“I’m sure that’s true. Maybe we can get a lozenge.”

He was holding her hand. Except for a single bathroom break, he had held her hand all afternoon, enjoying her fingers and her squeezes. Most of the afternoon, she had slept, and the slow deep respirations had continued. She had been on six liters of oxygen with all pulse ox readings above ninety percent.

In a flash, Natalie came up on Facetime, so Josh held the phone to capture Faith’s face. “Hello, Dr Faith,” she yelled. “Wait, Josh, I want to start recording.” The explosive enthusiasm in Nat’s voice came across well. Faith opened her eyes, and there was a little bit of a grin through sleepy eyes, tape marks on her face, and a dry mouth. “Yeah, Dr Faith. It’s so good to see you.” In short order, the faces of Jim and Marianna also appeared, to which Faith responded with a quiet snore.

“I think she has recovered,” Josh said. “We had to use old slow drugs on her because we were temporarily out of the new short-acting ones. Peggy says she will be wide awake tomorrow.”

“We don’t care,” Natalie replied. “It’s a miracle we have her at all!”

Josh choked up. “Yes, we’re lucky to have her. Or we could have her with brain damage or kidney failure. It looks like she escaped both of those. And we still have Cori.” He put the Doppler on Faith’s belly so they could hear Cori’s heart.

Natalie was quiet. Josh kept Faith’s face on the screen. Finally, Josh spoke up in a normal-sounding voice. “Jim, may I please marry your daughter?”

Jim stammered, a notable first in Josh’s memory. “Natalie, Marianna, is it OK if Josh marries Faith?”

Natalie was already squealing. “That is the sweetest thing, Josh! I’ll be glad to have you as a brother-in-law.”

“Yes,” was Marianna’s only word.

Jim didn’t say anything. Natalie prodded him, “Is it OK, Dad?”