Shadows And Light. Lindsay McKenna
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comfort of the Oak Knoll Hospital, Karen. How you could trade San Francisco’s beauty for this desert is beyond me.”
Karen mustered a winsome smile. “Look around you.” She waved her arm in the air. “There’s more action here. I was getting bored at Oak Knoll. That was regular surgery. I’m a trained trauma surgeon and I wanted to be busy doing that. Reed’s a major training base, and unfortunately, there are a lot more accidents and trauma situations here as a result.” She gave Susan a mischievous look. “Besides, we’re good at what we do. Why, these fine marines are going to be saved by the best trauma pair they’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Specifically,” Susan said with a laugh, “you. You’re the surgeon.”
Karen gave her a happy look. “Yes, but you’re my right-hand surgical nurse, Susan. Without you, I’d fumble a lot.”
That was probably true, Susan conceded as she stood outside the swinging door that led into the trauma unit adjacent to the emergency-room area. They were both trauma trained, and Susan conceded that they hadn’t really had reason to put their badly needed skills to work—until now. Karen was a brilliant surgeon who got caught up in the intensity of saving a person’s life. Susan was calm, cool and collected in comparison, slapping each instrument firmly into Karen’s gloved hand to make sure that rhythm between doctor and surgical nurse never got interrupted. One wrong motion could mean a life lost. Yes, they were a good team, and that was the main reason Susan had followed Karen out into the field.
Smoothing her nurse’s uniform, Susan looked down at her sensible white shoes. The summer heat here was scorching compared to San Francisco’s temperate weather, and she wished she’d put her collar-length hair up on her head. The back of her neck felt sweaty.
She watched Karen’s face become wreathed in smiles and followed her friend out toward the helicopter-landing area. The asphalt was painted with a huge white circle around a red cross, where the medevacs would unload injured marines whisked out of the surrounding training areas for immediate care. She turned on her heel to study the swinging doors of the ER area and hesitated. Was this what she really wanted? Frowning, Susan turned away and followed Karen as she eagerly explored her new world.
Karen always wanted to be in the middle of the action, Susan knew. And although she didn’t feel the same—out of loyalty and after a lot of nagging from Karen—she’d ended up coming along. Susan didn’t get high on the intense emergency-room atmosphere that Karen loved. Her friend often referred to herself as a “trauma junky,” addicted to the challenge of the life-and-death scenarios. Susan, on the other hand, was too sensitive to the pain the injured were feeling, the cries, the nauseating smells. Shoving her hands in the pockets of her skirt, she shook her head. Surgery performed under the bright lights of a stainless-steel operating room that reeked of antiseptic was far different from the crazy mayhem they’d soon be caught up in.
“This is wonderful!” Karen said as she stood in the center of the landing apron’s red cross.
The unrelenting Southern California sun bore down on them out of the light blue sky. With a slight smile, Susan murmured, “You do like to be in the thick of things.”
With a chuckle, Karen patted her shoulder. “Come on! This place will grow on you. Just look at it as a fantastic challenge.” Karen held up her long, thin hands with their competent, large-knuckled fingers. “These hands will get to save more lives by me being out here, Susan. Isn’t that worth coming for? They need trauma-ready surgeons like me in the field.”
“You’re right,” Susan admitted, smiling in spite of herself. She applauded Karen’s confidence. She wished more women would glory in their own unique assets as Karen did. She stared at her friend’s hands. No one was better or faster in an operating room. With another small smile, she said, “Come on, `Doc,’ let’s go check out the heart of this place, and then ICU.”
With a laugh, Karen allowed her hands to drop back to her sides. She touched her blond, pixie-style hair. “Am I crazy?”
“No,” Susan said, matching her longer stride to Karen’s short, eager one, “just excited about the possibilities. We will save more lives by being here,” she conceded.
Karen’s smile slipped, and she became more serious. “Look,” she whispered, “you did the right thing by coming here. It will take your mind off the past—off the loss of Steve.”
Pain pulled at Susan, and her step slowed as they drew up to the double swinging doors of ER. Karen had been her best friend at Oak Knoll Naval Hospital. She had been with her when Steve had died. If not for Karen’s care, she’d have gone crazy. Here at the marine base she would be reminded daily that life was fragile and good—and saving lives was something worth burying her heart and soul in.
“Yes,” she admitted in a low tone, “it’s probably a good thing we’re both here.”
Karen gave her an understanding look and rested her arm around Susan’s shoulders for a moment. “Come on, let’s check out our new turf. We’re going on duty in an hour, and we need to be ready. Those choppers are sure to come in sooner or later.”
With a forced laugh, Susan agreed and followed her surgeon friend through the modern trauma unit, filled with gurneys and a myriad of equipment used to save lives. Outside the unit was Recovery, a twenty-bed area where marines who were coming out of anesthesia would stay until they were fully conscious. Although Susan was a surgery nurse and most of her time would be spent in the trauma unit, she would also pull duty in ICU and Recovery, as well as other wards.
The ward area was divided between enlisted and officer areas. Susan would stand duty in both wards. Each unit held twenty beds, and navy corpsmen—enlisted men and women—would be assigned to help the medical staff take care of their healing charges. As Susan walked with Karen through the various wards, her heart was moved. Many of the beds held marines and navy personnel, staying here to recover from serious injuries before being sent back into the field.
Their faces were so young, so innocent, Susan thought, as she and Karen moved quietly down the aisles of each ward. Some of them sat up in their beds, playing cards to pass the time and keep boredom at bay. Others were swathed in white bandages, asleep or under a pain medication’s domain. It was the look of some in their eyes that haunted Susan. Some held terror—unspeakable knowledge that they couldn’t give words to. Other eyes, though, held curiosity, even friendly interest, accompanied by a shy smile.
Trying to prepare herself emotionally for what lay ahead on her first day of duty, Susan headed back to ER with Karen. They were opposites, Susan had realized years ago. Karen was a hard charger who grabbed hold of life, held onto it and moved with a vitality few could match. Susan, on the other hand, was more silent, introverted—moving like a shadow through life. She had learned early to be seen and not heard—to help, work, be responsible and never complain or try to throw off the burdens given to her.
Their tour completed, Susan and Karen retired to the female hospital personnel’s quarters to change into fresh white uniforms, settle their clothes in assigned lockers and have a cup of coffee before their first duty. Susan was the first through the doors of ER when a black navy corpsman ran toward them, out of breath.
“Hey!” the corpsman called. “A training helo with ten marines just crashed fifteen miles from here! We got dead and injured on their way in. Two medevacs are bringing ’em right now! Get ready!”
Susan knew that only two doctors and four nurses were assigned to the ER unit. She gasped as the corpsman’s message sank in and quickly moved to a small side room where she grabbed two green surgical gowns, handing one to Karen. They pulled them on, and Susan searched until she found the rubber gloves. Karen and the other doctor were scrubbing at the nearby sink. Susan’s heart started pounding in dread as she heard the heavy whapping sounds of a helicopter landing outside the trauma-unit door. Its windy wake buffeted the doors leading to the landing pad, and she could make out screams and shouts mingling with the roar of the helicopter’s engine.
Karen ran over to her, her hands held up, and Susan quickly slipped on the gloves. Just