The Phone Call

Joe lay on the ER gurney, a bloody mess.

The respiratory therapist struggled to get an airway down him. The paramedics hadn’t been able to do it in the field; his neck was too unstable. The neurosurgeon ran the show, pushing the ER docs to the sidelines. A nurse steadied Joe’s head, another held his legs as still as she could as he fought against her. A third nurse watched the monitors and recorded everything that happened. The fourth, the one who had hung the IVs, was now drawing up a syringe of a paralytic to keep him still. They’d never get him in the MRI with all that flailing.

In the midst of the commotion, a cell phone rang from somewhere. Feeling around for a pocket in what was left of his cut away jacket, a nurse produced the ringing phone and thrust it toward Joe’s girlfriend. “Here,” she said. “You take it.”

The blond girl in the leather jacket took the phone and held it to her ear. “What the fuck? Who do you think this is? This is Xenia!” she screamed into it.

All eyes turned to her. The neurosurgeon grabbed the nearest nurse by the arm, nodded to her and to Xenia and pointed to the door, The nurse moved speedily to get Xenia out of the room.

Xenia shook her off, protesting, then, seeing it was no use, went with her. “Here. You take this back,” she hissed. “It’s his fucking wife. I’m not talking to that bitch!” Xenia pulled away, tears streaming down her cheek.