“Scissors,” said Dr. Kingsley calmly as his audience watched in shocked silence. This was the kind of scene they’d read about but had never seen. Dr. Kingsley snipped through the wire sutures holding the split sternum together. Then he pushed both hands into the wound and forcibly pulled the sternum apart. There was a sharp cracking noise. Jerry Donovan tried to glance into Bruce’s chest but Dr. Kingsley had obscured the view. The one thing Jerry could tell was that there was no bleeding whatsoever.
Dr. Kingsley eased his hand, fingers first, into Bruce’s chest and cupped the apex of the heart. Rhythmically he began to compress it, nodding to Rose when she should inflate the lungs. “Check the pulse now,” said Dr. Kingsley.
Peter dutifully stepped forward. “Strong,” he said.
“I’d like some epinephrine, please,” said Dr. Kingsley. “But it doesn’t look good. I think this patient arrested some time ago.”
Jerry Donovan thought about saying he had the same impression but decided against it.
“Call the EEG lab,” said Dr. Kingsley, continuing to massage the heart.
“Let’s see if there’s any brain activity at all.”
Trudy went to the phone. Dr. Kingsley injected the epinephrine but could see that there was no effect on the EKG. “Whose patient is this?” he asked.
“Dr. Ballantine’s,” said Pamela.
Bending over, Dr. Kingsley peered into the wound. Jerry guessed he was assessing the surgical repair. It was common hospital knowledge that on a scale of one to ten, as far as operative technique was concerned, Kingsley was a ten, and Ballantine, despite the fact that he was chief of the cardiac surgery department, was about a three.
Dr. Kingsley abruptly looked up and stared at the medical student as if he’d seen him for the first time. “How can you tell at the moment this isn’t a case of an AV block, Doctor?”
All color drained from the student’s face. “I don’t know,” he managed finally.
“Safe answer,” smiled Dr. Kingsley. “I wish I had had the courage to admit not knowing something when I was a medical student.” Turning to Jerry he asked: “What are his pupils doing?”
Jerry moved over and lifted Bruce’s eyelids. “Haven’t budged.”
“Run in another amp of bicarbonate,” ordered Dr. Kingsley. “I assume you gave some calcium.”
Jerry nodded.
For the next few minutes there was silence as Dr. Kingsley massaged the heart. Then a technician appeared at the doorway with an ancient EEG machine.
“I just want to know if there’s any electrical activity in the brain,” said Dr. Kingsley. The technician attached the scalp electrodes and turned on the machine. The brain wave tracings were flat, just like the EKG.
“Unfortunately, that’s that,” said Dr. Kingsley as he withdrew his hand from Bruce’s chest and stripped off his gloves. I think someone better call Dr. Ballantine. Thank you for your help.” He strode from the room.
For a moment no one spoke or moved. The EEG technician was first. Self-consciously he said he’d better get back to the lab. He unhooked his paraphernalia and left.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” said Peter, staring at Bruce’s gaping chest.
“Me neither,” agreed Jerry. “Kinda takes your breath away.”
Both men stepped up to the bed and peered into the wound.
Jerry cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you need more, competence or self-confidence, to cut into someone like that.”
“Both,” said Pamela, pulling the plug on the EKG machine. “How about you fellows giving us some room to get this place in order. By the way, one thing I forgot to mention. When I found Mr. Wilkinson, his IV was running rapidly. It should have been barely open.” Pamela shrugged. “I don’t know if it was important or not but I thought I’d let you know.”
“Thanks,” said Jerry absently. He wasn’t listening. Daintily he stuck his index finger into the wound and touched Bruce’s heart. “People say Dr. Kingsley is an arrogant son of a bitch, but there is one thing I know for sure. If I needed a bypass tomorrow, he is the one I’d have do it.”
“Amen,” said Pamela, pushing her way between Jerry and the bed to begin preparation of the body.