Heartburn: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World) by Tarrah Anders (best ebook reader .TXT) 📗

When he doesn’t move or answer, I shake his shoulder a little harder.

“Dad? Dad?” I say with each movement. I feel his neck. He has a pulse, but it’s weak.

Oh, for fucks sake.

I rush to the front desk and slap my hand on the top to get her attention.

“I need a doctor and a gurney.” I tell her.

“I’m sorry ma’am, you must fill out these papers, and wait for your name to be called,” she says, her rehearsed line barely glancing up from her computer monitor.

“No, get me Dr. Quinn right now!” I say with my teeth clenched.

“Ma’am, you must wait—” I storm away from her and grab my badge out of my pocket as I buzz myself through the double doors with her yelling for me to stop.

“Hey, how did you get back here?” She stands with her hands on her hips as I storm by.

I see Rogan standing at the foot of a patient’s bed while speaking to a resident.

“Ro! Ro! I need you! Rogan!” I run across the space as he turns in confusion with the receptionist trailing behind me with security.

“What’s happening, why are you being followed?”

“She just came back here like she owns the place, guards, take her away!” She points.

“Stop!” Rogan shouts and stands in front of me with his hands up.

I pull out my badge and hold it up over his shoulder.

“She works here, she’s a nurse in this damn ER, now can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Rogan yells looking between me and the woman.

The guards back away and the receptionist stands there embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

Rogan turns around and looks at me. “Is everything okay?” He searches my face, goes down my shoulders, arms, torso and to my feet.

“My dad. He’s, he’s—” I point in the direction of the waiting room that I just came from.

Rogan turns and runs with me following behind him. I roll a bed out and lower it to the ground. Rogan is kneeling beside him, taking the pulse in dad’s carotid artery as I stand there with tears pouring out of my eyes.

One of the guards rushes to our side and assists Rogan with carefully lifting my dad and securing him to the bed. Rogan pushes him back through the doors and I trail behind, right on his heels. Rogan walks into a private trauma room, yelling all kinds of directions at nearby staff.

I push myself into the room and grab a pair of gloves. Rogan looks up and removes his hands from my father, then walks to me and grabs my hand to lead me out of the room.

With his hands on my shoulders, he bends and looks in my eyes.

“Kindra, you can’t be in here.”

“Why not? I’m just as qualified as anyone to be in there,” I protest.

“I’m not arguing that, but I think today has been traumatic enough. I can’t have you also working on your fathers’ case. I need you to get some rest, be a family member for a bit.”

“You can’t keep me out of here,” I look at him.

“I can, and I will if I have to. Please let me take care of him?”

I see the look of desperation and panic in Rogan’s eyes and know that if the roles were reversed and he would do as I would be asking.

I reluctantly agree.

“I promise you that I will do whatever it takes to make sure that he’s okay.” He tells me before stepping back inside the room with a squeeze to my shoulder.

The door shuts and I’m left standing outside the room feeling helpless as I see the shadows of everyone inside that room moving around my father.

The time from when I went out of the room until when Rogan came into the waiting room of the emergency room felt like an eternity. I’ve been up already for a solid twenty-four hours and the time that I sat there–waiting–my mind couldn’t stop running through a gamut of negative scenarios.

I stood ramrod straight when Rogan appeared, nervous for whatever he will tell me. And from the look on his face, I cannot get a gauge as to whether it’s negative or positive.

Damn his poker face.

“Care to come in the back?” he speaks after a moment.

“I would rather you give me the bad news out here,” I tell him, feeling defeated.

“Kindra, your father is alive. Now, care to come in the back with me?” he asks.

I nod and step into an easy pace with him.

“We spoke with the EMT’s that brought him in. He refused treatment at the scene and in the bus, but they checked his standard vitals. He presented fine.”

“Internal bleeding?”

“Yes.”

“I saw his torso looked bruised.” I nod.

“He seemed to have lost consciousness, and it was likely shortly after that when you found him. I asked security to look at the waiting room footage, and they reported that he passed out about ten minutes before you came. Any longer and he would be in very serious condition. We located the source of his bleeding as soon as we had him stabilized. And now, he’s on his way up to the OR to repair a blood vessel and remove the excess blood. He will be okay; I can promise you that.”

“Don’t make me promises, please, just don’t.” I shake my head and ask.

“As a doctor, you know that I wouldn’t normally. But I need you to know, that it will for you.”

“What’s next?”

“We’re going to give him some clotting compounds and complexes and go from there.”

“How long until I can see him?” I ask.

“In a few hours, go grab some sleep in an on-call room. I’ll wake you as soon as he’s out. We’ll put him in the room with your mom.”

“No, I need to stay up and wait.”

“You will not be any good to anyone if you don’t get some sleep. I hope it’s okay, but I took you off the schedule tomorrow, so you can be here for both of