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Tuesday, December 17, 2024

"The Reiterating Asystole " by Raelee T

                          

            Someone once told me that a single decision can save multiple lives. As a doctor in the ER, I’ve held this advice close to my heart. However, the repeating sound of an individual taking their last breath and the sound of the ECG flatlining has never been something I’ve been able to get used to. It’s something no one should ever get used to…

                                                                

             “Doctor, room 5’s vitals are going up, we need to operate as soon as possible!” the head nurse exhaled while catching her breath from running up the stairs.

            “Has her family signed the consent form?” questioned the doctor in a white lab coat, with hair gathered in a sloppy bun upon her head. The doctor wore a neutral expression on her face that hinted at exhaustion. After her question was answered she ran following the nurse to what I presume was the patient's room.

            Watching from afar I picked up my journal and began writing my observations on the people who flocked in and out of the hospital.

                                                        Three days prior 

“Detective Dece!” called my partner Ember, “A few witnesses have stepped forward regarding the death of Madame Chere. Would you like to talk to them?”

I jumped out of my chair and followed Ember to the town’s investigation center. As soon as we entered, we were met with a range of cries.

“Detective Dece! I’m so sorry about what happened to your aunt!” cried one of the village elders.

“I was told you have information?” I sharply injected trying to not sound as affected as I was.

“Yes, yes! The last person who saw her was the doctor who came down from the general hospital to perform health checks! I think it was…let me think,” she said with a pause. “She had long black hair and was wearing a red blouse with a white lab coat. Ahhh, yes it was Dr. Jia Moor!” she exclaimed, snapping her thumbs.

                                                               A week later

            “If I could, I would like to talk to Dr. Moor?” the detective asked while holding up his badge to the nurse.

“I’ll go get her right away!” the nurse stammered before walking backward into me.

“How can I help you?” I interrupted, reaching my hand out, “I’m Dr. Moor!”

            The detective shook my hand warily and directed me toward the empty office behind him. I quickly realized I was being accused of something when the detective's questions shifted to asking where I was the day of December the third and what I had given to Mrs. Chere. Funny as it was, even though I knew I was being accused I began to tune the detective out and instead took a good look at him. He had a stalwart appearance with lineaments that consisted of a sharp chin with dark eye bags under gleaming eyes. His hair was combed back in a false attempt to pull his bangs out of his face. He wore a loose black sweater on top of a gray shirt alongside black cargo pants. His voice was soft and all too nice sounding for his job description. I noticed that he appeared aggressive and even agitated at my quietness.

“Are you listening?”

His voice broke my thoughts as I was confronted with his black pearly eyes.

“To be completely honest with you I don’t even remember where I was yesterday,” I softly chuckled trying to regain my composure and retain my dignity simultaneously. “From what I remembered I administered a diuretic for hypertension as Mrs. Chere was having heart difficulties.” While stating so I picked up the file with my patient's information and flipped to Mrs. Chere’s medical chart.

“Here is everything else noted about her health.” I asserted, handing him the information. I checked my watch and was hit in the face with the harsh reality that I needed to get back to work.

“If there isn’t anything else I need to get back to work! If you need any more information for the case, here’s my number,” I insisted, giving him my business card. “It was nice meeting you!” I smiled and slipped out of the room nearly sprinting to the nearest nursing station.

            “Are you being accused of murder!?” was the first question I was attacked with as soon as I came face to face with the head nurse.

            “Right now they can’t confirm anything until the autopsy comes back.” I sighed while running my fingers through my hair. Another issue to handle I thought tirelessly.

                                                              

            The autopsy report was finally out. I walked gingerly to the anonymous building that contained the autopsy room. I shivered while I pushed open the tall door and inhaled the poignant scent of the cleaning agent.

            “Based on the report she passed away from complications with the heart,” confirmed the pathologist.

            I nodded and asked, “Could this be a source?” lifting a bag with a needle and liquid inside.

            The pathologist took the bag and stated, “Let me take a look.”

Once she came back the results left me with further suspicions.

They echoed in my head, “This medicine is normally administered when individuals have heart complications. Yet it appears that the needle has been tampered with considering it has never been used on a human…”

                                                             

            I waited by the old structure, listening to the direction of the wind and the sound of birdsong filled with regret and shame. Then my subject of interest walked into the room with a gust of purpose. He stormed to his car and before I could run up to him, drove away.

            I sighed and returned to the general hospital with reluctance.

            “Any new information on the case?” asked one of the nurses who worked closely with Dr. Glace, a rival doctor of mine.

            “No. Tell Dr. Glace if she has any questions to ask them herself!” I snapped, thinking of all the times she had sent her minions to spy on me.

            “Doctor! Doctor! The patient in room 2 is having a cardiac arrest!” the head nurse shouted, pulling me to the patient's room and away from my truculent thoughts.

                                                            

            Another death in three weeks can’t be just a coincidence. This could be either murder or medical malpractice and both will lead to no good outcomes. I pondered while looking through the reports I’ve obtained so far about the cases.

            The autopsy results displayed that the three patients all shared three things in common. An injection point that had a purple bruise surrounding it, potassium chloride in their systems and the fact that they all were once patients of Dr. Moor.

            But why would Dr. Moor have any reason to kill her patients and why would she administer medicine so harshly? “All evidence points towards Dr. Moor but why do I have a strange feeling that there is something wrong…” I muttered under my breath, trying to construe the situation to no avail.

                                                          

“I heard that an old patient of Dr. Moor’s was injected with potassium chloride!” gossiped the nurses in the back of the room. With a forbearance like no other, I ignored them and continued suturing my current patient's wound shut.

After completing my rounds, I returned to my office with my head down. I didn’t have the sanguine attitude that I usually paraded around and didn’t feel quite well. Coincidently, I turned the corner and slammed head-first into the detective.

I ushered him into my office not wanting anyone else to gossip about my further troubles. With no time to waste, he began talking about updates in the case.

“Do you know anyone who would have any motive in harming your recently deceased patients?” 

I shook my head and mumbled, “At this point, I’m used to being accused.”

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m just confused about why I’m being accused of killing my own patients…” I replied.

“While for starters, all the patients that have been murdered hold relations to you. The increase in deaths of your patients should be a concern for you as well. Is it not suspicious that you haven’t taken a day off work or done anything about being accused?” He retorted back.

I began to laugh, “Death is a normal occurrence for me…people can die at any moment and when they do it’s normal for a family member to accuse and press charges.” I thought to myself it would be nice to be able to save everyone but not all doctors wear capes.

Detective Dece must have noticed my reserved feelings for he stood up and simply murmured, “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

His presence had left me with what felt like a cardiac arrest of my own, I began to tear up and in my head heard the sounds of the flatlining while my eyes closed. You might as well be as guilty as the murderer it seemed to reiterate.

When I finally awoke from my nightmare, it was too late. I was not the savior I was trained to be.

 

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