Perfect Match (39 page)

Shulberger cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows at
him.

Hertford looked back down at Selena, and then gave a
determined nod of his head to the anesthesiologist. The combination of
medications known as general anesthesia that would keep Selena relaxed, pain
free, and prevent memories of the surgery, were coursing through her system.
Intubation had taken place to assure Selena’s breathing by ventilator while
anesthetized.

The anesthesiologist gave a signal that Selena was ready.
She said, “Everything looks good.”

Hertford scanned the monitors, double checking the readouts.

His scrub nurse was ready to hand the surgical instruments
he’d need. The same for Shulberg’s side of the operating table. Her scrub nurse
had also set up a double set of instruments, basins, sponges, and extra drapes.

Hertford looked down, once again, at Selena’s young abdomen,
visualizing the surgical steps before him. He took the electrosurgical scalpel
in hand, positioning it at the marked incision site on her lower right side.
The incision would be about six inches.

3:20 p.m., Inflight
between Hong Kong and Tokyo

3:20 a.m., Asheville

Madison awoke with a start from a fitful dream involving
D.R. Fallington retaking the position of CEO of Fallington Enterprises. Her
breathing was tight and she felt hot all of a sudden.

Zhong looked down at her, as she lifted her sleepy head from
his shoulder.

She looked around, briefly disoriented. “Where…where are we?
When do we land?”

“We’re about forty-five minutes out of Tokyo. So far the
flight is ahead of schedule.”

Madison gave a slight nod. “Any word on my daughter?”

“I got an update from our sources in South Carolina. Major
telecommunications problems still exist in the Asheville area. Wide-spread
outages. We haven’t been able to connect directly with our Cold Steel sources
in Asheville.”

She fidgeted in her seat looking all around, as if looking
for a way to escape from her seat, from the plane. She ran her hand through her
long tresses, releasing a heavy breath. “What about the hospital? What if
there’s storm damage to the hospital?” Her eyes were pleading for assurance
from Zhong.

“Hospitals are prepared for many events. They have all kinds
of backup systems in place.” He placed his hand over hers gripping the arm
rest. His hand was warm as it gave her a gentle squeeze. His eyes held hers for
a split second too long. She was feeling a tingle through her abdomen, when she
felt the laser look from Mee in the seat in front of them.

“Okay, Zhong, time for guard change.” Her look penetrated
through him, but a little grin pulled at the corners of her pretty mouth, as he
removed his hand from Madison’s.

Preacher-woman Ramona Brimstone, had inched her way across Asheville
in the surging storm. She’d encountered road blocks, flooded bridges, and
downed power lines. She pulled into the Cobalt parking lot and had her pick of
reserved spaces for chaplains and pastors. She grabbed her tattered umbrella
from the back seat, pushed open her car door against the driving wind and rain,
and dashed through a myriad of puddles.

A blast of wind and rain tussled with her umbrella pushing
the supports upwards. She uttered, “Lord, if you need this umbrella worse than
I do, then have at it.” She turned it loose to the insistent wind. She took her
final steps to the landing and alcove at the door. The wind shot the remnants
of her umbrella skyward toward a tall oak tree.

She stepped inside and stomped her tennis shoes on the mat.
Her jeans and white cotton blouse had avoided a direct hit of rain. Her shoes
squeaked on the hospital floor as she made her way to the surgery waiting area.

She was greeted by an empty waiting room, a couple of dim,
overhead fluorescents buzzing. The volunteers had left much earlier before the
storm worsened. She pushed the information buzzer on the wall. After a second
push of the buzzer, a portly hospital security man pushed the doors open to the
waiting room, looking disgruntled. “What’s the problem?”

“No problem. I’m Ramona Brimstone, Pastor of Faith United
Mission Church. One of my church members is having surgery. I was called
earlier. I want to know her status.”

His eyes widened. “How’d you get through this storm?”

“Drove.”

He shook his head in disapproval. “Not a smart idea. We’re
having all kinds of problems tonight…power, short staff…a real mess. Let me go
see if I can find someone to help you. What’s the patient’s name?”

“Selena Sanchez.”

He was off through the doors and down the long corridor.

After five minutes, a nurse came through the doors,
recognizing the preacher. “Hi, Ramona. You’re a brave soul tonight.”

“Not as brave as Selena. What’s her status?”

The nurse had checked that Ramona was listed on Selena’s
list of people that could receive patient information, but she also knew about
the secrecy surrounding the kidney donor. Trying to appear as if this was just
an ordinary night at Cobalt Medical Center she said, “Selena’s doing fine. Her
surgery is progressing along as expected.”

“So is the procedure for a kidney transplant or something
else?”

The nurse hesitated. “Transplant.”

“Where did you luck up and get a kidney on a night like
this?” Ramona probed.

The nurse’s eyes skittered around the room, as if looking
for a good answer. “Well, we’re a busy hospital...must have arrived before the
storm hit.”

“How much longer in the operating room?”

The nurse glanced at the wall clock, noticing that it had
stopped. “Got a watch?”

Ramona looked at her wrist watch. “Three-forty.”

The nurse calculated a moment. “Selena’s procedure has been
underway about an hour and a half…she’ll probably come out of the operation
close to five o’clock. Then she’ll be in PACU, the post-anesthesia care unit,
another few hours, while they monitor her recovery. You may not get to see her
until later this morning, around breakfast.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be here until I know she’s going to be
okay.” She glanced around the dim waiting room. “I think I’ll go down to the
chaplain’s room. There’s a lounge chair I can stretch out on.”

“I’ll make a note on Selena’s chart for them to contact you
there.”

The nurse went in one direction and Ramona took the elevator
to the fourth floor to do a little follow-up checking of her own. As she
approached the nurses’ station, she didn’t recognize anyone on duty. She pulled
out her pastor’s ID. “Waiting out the storm, thought I’d check on one of my
flock?”

“Sure, what’s the name?”

“Roscoe Fallington.”

The nurse looked at her computer. She plucked at her lower
lip with her index finger. “He’s going to be in room 420, clear around the hall
and diagonally from this corner.” Her hands gestured the direction. “There’s a
nurses’ station on that side also. They can tell you more.”

Another nurse said, “I thought he was still in 405.”

“Nope, the notes say he’s been moved.”

Ramona said, “So, is he in 420 now?”

“Well, not yet. The notes say something about a foot
problem.”

The other nurse said, “One note said he was being released
tomorrow…I mean later this afternoon.”

The nurse at the computer said with a shrug, “Beats me.
Maybe his foot issue has been resolved and he’s in 420 now. You can check when
you go around there.”

Ramona decided not to ask any more questions.

Hertford had just positioned Roscoe’s harvested kidney in
the lower right abdomen of Selena. Suturing of the connecting sites would
begin.

Lightning struck ferociously again near the hospital. A clap
of thunder rattled the building. The adjustable lights over the operating table
shook, all lights flickered, went out for five seconds until the hospital generator
kicked in. There was an audible sigh from behind each mask, as the surgical
team unfroze from their stance.

A couple medical machines hiccupped, and then resumed,
except the readout on the anesthesia console. Hertford noticed on the overhead
monitor that it had gone dark.

“Problem, Blake?”

“Anesthesia console appears to be working, but readout’s
off.”

“That can’t be. We’re getting to a critical point. The
patient’s going to need more anesthesia.”

The anesthesiologist said, “Not if I can’t get some readings.
Get a tech up here.”

The circulating nurse dialed a number on the OR wall phone.
She was met by static. “Phone’s out.”

Schulberger, the assistant surgeon, looked across the
patient at Hertford.

Hertford said, “Blake, give us some feedback.”

“Machines are still working, but no readouts.”

“What’s the status of the battery backup?

“That light’s out also. There’s another indicator on the
battery, but I can’t see it from here.”

The circulating nurse headed for the battery compartment on
the other side of the machine. “It shows fully charged back here.”

“At full usage how much time do we have on the battery?”
asked Hertford.

Blake pondered. “Fifty minutes max.”

“We need more time than that to finish up.” Hertford was
beginning to perspire. He turned slightly, twisting his head. The nurse wiped
his forehead.”

He was met by Shulberger’s gaze when he turned back around.
She said, “What are you thinking?”

“What’s the status of the other ORs?”

The circulating nurse glanced at a monitor. “Number 4 and 7
are setup.”

Shulberger persisted. “What’s the plan?”

Hertford said, “Three options. We go to manual, or we
transport the patient to another OR with great risk of infection, or we abort.
Not good choices.”

“So…what’s…the decis—?”

There was a heavy thump against the door to the operating
room, knocking over the steel table against it. The clanging of metal against
the floor shattered nerves of the surgical team, but the patient remained
motionless except for her peaceful breathing.

A tall blue-uniformed figure with surgical mask entered.

Hertford snapped. “Who the hell are you?”

“Tech guy on backup tonight. The OR number ID lit up
downstairs in technology, but there was no message. Thought I’d come up and
check.” His eyes glanced at the patient on the operating table.

Blake, the anesthesiologist said, “The display lights are
out. We’ve got to make a decision. What can you do?”

“What kind of decision?”

Losing his patience, Hertford said, “We’re in major surgery
here, in case you didn’t notice. I don’t want the patient to enter the pain
threshold. I don’t have time to answer trivia questions with you.” Turning to
Blake he continued, “Increase the anesthesia.”

The tech guy said, “When did the display go out?”

Hertford was aghast.

Blake answered, “Five minutes ago.”

“Don’t do anything.” He looked closely at Selena. “The
patient is fine. Give me a minute with the machine console.”

Hertford snapped, “Who do you think you are telling us what
to do? You don’t know a damn thing about this patient?”

The tech guy walked to the back of the anesthesia console,
getting busy, as he said, “I’m Trevor Drake, and that patient is my girlfriend.
I’m hoping to marry her someday and I know more about her than anyone in this
room. For her bodyweight and other stats I know the exact dosages of anesthesia
that you should be delivering to her.” He called out mixture ratios.

Blake looked at Hertford and nodded.

Trevor said, “I know the output of her two hypoplasia
kidneys. I know the capability of the kidney that you’re transplanting.” His
hands were a blur, as he used three tools from his kit around his waist. “I
know these machines better than you know your patients. I know other trivia
stuff, but you’re probably not interested right now, but you will be when this
rough night is over.”

The surgical team was shaken, but disciplined, and kept
their focus on Selena.

Trevor checked a couple of connections. There were three
snaps and clicks from the back of the machine. He stepped back around to the
side of the anesthesia console, glancing at Selena. He looked at his watch.
“Your display will be up in seven seconds.”

He watched the ticking of the second hand, counting. The
display powered back on.

“There you have it docs. I’ll let you get back to work.” He
headed for the door, and then turned back. “Take care of my girlfriend. I’ll be
waiting outside in the hall if you need me again.” The door closed behind him
but didn’t catch. Trevor opened it again, looked at the latch, took a tool from
his leather kit, made a couple of turns, and then closed the door again. It
latched.

The lights flickered only twice during the next two hours.
The storm over Asheville had cleared, leaving behind a path of wreckage. A
steady rain was still falling, as if to soothe the littered landscape.

5:50 a.m., Wednesday,
Asheville, NC

Roscoe had been rolled into the PACU forty-five minutes
before Selena. The doctors had orchestrated an arrangement that placed him in a
curtained area away from the recovery station where Selena had just been
placed. The nurses had been informed that Roscoe was to remain anonymous.
Period.

Orders had been written that he was to be moved to room 420
as soon as safe to do so. Since he’d just had a kidney removed, the doctors
instructed that he be placed in the renal unit, where Selena would be recovering
in room 400. A dummy bandage had been wrapped around his “ailing” foot as a
decoy for inquisitive people. Beyond that, anonymity be-damned.

Ramona was downing the last swallows of a cup of bitter
coffee from the vending machine, when a nurse came to the chaplain’s room.
“Visitation in PACU is usually restricted, but Dr. Hertford thought your
presence would be important, since Selena’s mom wasn’t able to be with her.
She’ll still be asleep, and the nurse won’t rouse her, but you’ll be able to
touch and talk to her for comfort.”