Annisthyrienne
Drive-by mischief
- Joined
- Oct 17, 2010
- Posts
- 11,469
She reached for her phone, anxious to answer and silence the annoying ring tone. She didn't even remember why she had chosen the theme from the Looney Tunes to signal her text messages. After the third run through of 'Bdee, Bdee, Bdee, uh, that's all folks!' she managed to sort through the clutter in her purse and seize the offending electronic task master.
Checking the screen, she saw that someone had sent: 'Hey grl, meet u 4 'za, 7 ish?' It was a wrong number. She was new in town, and didn't know anyone that well yet. She hadn't even found a permanent place to stay, living for the time being out of a cheap hotel room. By the time she returned her eyes to the traffic it was too late.
She had only taken her eyes off the road for a moment........
*****
The ER receiving unit at Mercy General was always over worked and under staffed, and this night was no exception. The duty nurse shouted for the attending as she sprinted down the corridor towards the gurney wheeling through the door, pushed by the 2 EMTs, one holding an oxygen mask to what was left of a pretty young woman's face. She was so covered in blood, it was hard to see what was left and what was damaged. The lead EMT began running down the vitals as the nurse led the way into Exam 3.
"Multi car MVA. Vic is a female, approximately 26. BP 100 over 70, shocky, multiple head contusions, deep scalp lacs, unconscious on the scene. It took us 20 minutes to get her cut out of that mess!"
The nurse thought she had seen worse, but she couldn't remember when, as the EMT continued to relay the pertinent information. The staff was jumping now, scurrying around like ants in a stirred up mound, desperate to set into motion the extreme measures it would take to save this life, so harshly interrupted.
The lead EMT, a young man somewhere between 25-30 by the looks of him, watched helplessly as the female victim was surrounded by nurses and doctors, cutting off his view of her. He'd done all he could have done. Now it was up to them......and her.
*****
Six weeks and 3 surgeries later, Jane Doe awoke out of the coma, against all odds. They had wondered if she would ever open her eyes again. Most of her wounds were healed; nothing but fading scars to show the extent of the damage she had suffered. But the worst damage was not the kind that could be seen. Her head was still bandaged from the last surgery, though it had been two weeks ago. That one had been largely reconstructive, and by now the swelling had receded, leaving her looking almost like her old self.
On the day she woke up, the nurse thought she could finally fill out the name on the charts with some real information for a change. The staff had tried to identify Jane after she'd been admitted, but to no avail. The wreckage of her car had been hauled away. No personal effects had been found. Maybe some passerby had taken the purse and phone, figuring there was no further need on the part of the owner for such material things. After all, she had looked pretty bad. Maybe it was just overlooked in the haste to cut her free. But whatever the reason, no one at the hospital knew who she was. The nurse was terribly disappointed at the completely blank look she got in answer to her questions: "Do you remember anything about why you are here? Can you tell me your name?" Jane had no idea. The nurse might have been speaking a different language, for all she could answer her.
The doctors were immediately informed, and after a number of tests and questions, their suspicion was confirmed. Jane Doe had suffered a head trauma in her accident, and the result was complete memory loss. Neurologically, she would be fine. She would need some physical therapy to rehabilitate, but she would be normal. Perhaps her memories would return one day, but none of the experts could know if or when that would happen.
In the days that followed her awakening, Jane made rapid progress towards being fit to be discharged to home care. There was just one problem, as her doctor discussed with her one afternoon. "Miss, uh, 'Doe' you've been recovering remarkably well, and.... Well the thing is that we've done just about all that we realistically can do for you here. Your recovery is at the stage where only time and the support of family or friends can finish what our efforts have started. What I'm trying to say is that you are well enough now to be discharged to home care."
"There is just one little problem. We still don't know who you are. And you're unable to remember anything that would be helpful in finding out your identity. Legally speaking, we can't just release you to your own custody when you've suffered a head trauma with memory loss. Someone has to be responsible for you before we can let you leave. We are continuing to try every avenue we can to determine your identity, but unless or until one of your relatives or friends comes forward to accept custody of you, I'm afraid you'll have to stay here a little longer. And the sad reality is that if we cannot find a place for you soon, we're going to have to transfer you to a longer term care facility, essentially a mental health institute."
With that to think about, he left her to consider her future. Jane hung her head, contemplating her bleak options, lost in thought.
(Reserved for Twilight10)
Checking the screen, she saw that someone had sent: 'Hey grl, meet u 4 'za, 7 ish?' It was a wrong number. She was new in town, and didn't know anyone that well yet. She hadn't even found a permanent place to stay, living for the time being out of a cheap hotel room. By the time she returned her eyes to the traffic it was too late.
She had only taken her eyes off the road for a moment........
*****
The ER receiving unit at Mercy General was always over worked and under staffed, and this night was no exception. The duty nurse shouted for the attending as she sprinted down the corridor towards the gurney wheeling through the door, pushed by the 2 EMTs, one holding an oxygen mask to what was left of a pretty young woman's face. She was so covered in blood, it was hard to see what was left and what was damaged. The lead EMT began running down the vitals as the nurse led the way into Exam 3.
"Multi car MVA. Vic is a female, approximately 26. BP 100 over 70, shocky, multiple head contusions, deep scalp lacs, unconscious on the scene. It took us 20 minutes to get her cut out of that mess!"
The nurse thought she had seen worse, but she couldn't remember when, as the EMT continued to relay the pertinent information. The staff was jumping now, scurrying around like ants in a stirred up mound, desperate to set into motion the extreme measures it would take to save this life, so harshly interrupted.
The lead EMT, a young man somewhere between 25-30 by the looks of him, watched helplessly as the female victim was surrounded by nurses and doctors, cutting off his view of her. He'd done all he could have done. Now it was up to them......and her.
*****
Six weeks and 3 surgeries later, Jane Doe awoke out of the coma, against all odds. They had wondered if she would ever open her eyes again. Most of her wounds were healed; nothing but fading scars to show the extent of the damage she had suffered. But the worst damage was not the kind that could be seen. Her head was still bandaged from the last surgery, though it had been two weeks ago. That one had been largely reconstructive, and by now the swelling had receded, leaving her looking almost like her old self.
On the day she woke up, the nurse thought she could finally fill out the name on the charts with some real information for a change. The staff had tried to identify Jane after she'd been admitted, but to no avail. The wreckage of her car had been hauled away. No personal effects had been found. Maybe some passerby had taken the purse and phone, figuring there was no further need on the part of the owner for such material things. After all, she had looked pretty bad. Maybe it was just overlooked in the haste to cut her free. But whatever the reason, no one at the hospital knew who she was. The nurse was terribly disappointed at the completely blank look she got in answer to her questions: "Do you remember anything about why you are here? Can you tell me your name?" Jane had no idea. The nurse might have been speaking a different language, for all she could answer her.
The doctors were immediately informed, and after a number of tests and questions, their suspicion was confirmed. Jane Doe had suffered a head trauma in her accident, and the result was complete memory loss. Neurologically, she would be fine. She would need some physical therapy to rehabilitate, but she would be normal. Perhaps her memories would return one day, but none of the experts could know if or when that would happen.
In the days that followed her awakening, Jane made rapid progress towards being fit to be discharged to home care. There was just one problem, as her doctor discussed with her one afternoon. "Miss, uh, 'Doe' you've been recovering remarkably well, and.... Well the thing is that we've done just about all that we realistically can do for you here. Your recovery is at the stage where only time and the support of family or friends can finish what our efforts have started. What I'm trying to say is that you are well enough now to be discharged to home care."
"There is just one little problem. We still don't know who you are. And you're unable to remember anything that would be helpful in finding out your identity. Legally speaking, we can't just release you to your own custody when you've suffered a head trauma with memory loss. Someone has to be responsible for you before we can let you leave. We are continuing to try every avenue we can to determine your identity, but unless or until one of your relatives or friends comes forward to accept custody of you, I'm afraid you'll have to stay here a little longer. And the sad reality is that if we cannot find a place for you soon, we're going to have to transfer you to a longer term care facility, essentially a mental health institute."
With that to think about, he left her to consider her future. Jane hung her head, contemplating her bleak options, lost in thought.
(Reserved for Twilight10)
