“Becky, what is it?” Kim demanded.
“My stomach hurts me,” Becky managed amid groans. “It hurts me bad. Daddy, please!”
Kim pulled down Becky’s blanket. He was shocked to see a swath of purplish subcutaneous bleeding on her chest. He raised his eyes to Kathleen. “Were you aware of this purpura?” he asked.
Kathleen nodded. “Yes, I saw it earlier.”
“It wasn’t there last night,” Kim said. Kim looked back at Becky. “Tell Daddy where it hurts.”
Becky pointed to her lower abdomen slightly to the right of the midline. She was careful not to touch herself.
Kim gently placed the tips of his index, middle, and ring fingers on Becky’s abdomen where she’d pointed. He pressed in enough to barely dimple the skin. Becky writhed.
“Please don’t touch me, Daddy,” she pleaded.
Kim pulled his hand back sharply. Becky’s eyes shot open and a cry of pain issued from her parched lips. Such a response was a sign Kim did not want to see. It was called rebound tenderness, and it was a strong indication of peritonitis, inflammation of the lining of the abdominal cavity. And there was only one thing that could cause such a catastrophe.
Kim straightened up. “She’s got an acute abdomen,” he yelled. “She’s perforated!”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Kim pushed up to the head of the bed and released the wheels. “Someone get the rear wheels,” he yelled. “We’ll use the bed for transport. We’ve got to get her to surgery.”
“I think we should wait for Dr. Stevens,” Kathleen said calmly. She motioned for Stephanie to get away from the foot of the bed. Kathleen then stepped to the head next to Kim.
“The hell with Dr. Stevens,” Kim snapped. “This is a surgical emergency. The hand-wringing is over. We have to act.”
Kathleen put her hand on Kim’s arm, ignoring the wild look in his eyes. “Dr. Reggis, you are not in charge. You have to calm..”
In his agitated frame of mind Kim perceived Kathleen as an obstacle, not a colleague. Determined to get Becky to surgery as soon as possible, he literally swept her aside. With his strength and Kathleen’s small stature, he inadvertently threw her against the bedside table.
Kathleen grabbed the table in a vain attempt to keep her feet but only succeeded in knocking everything off its surface. Water pitcher, glass, flower vase, and thermometer all crashed to the floor beside her.
Stephanie ran out into the hall to scream for help, while Lorraine tried to hold the bed in position. Despite the rear wheels being locked, Kim had managed to push it several feet toward the door.
Tracy recovered from her initial shock to rush to Kim. She tugged on one of his arms to get him to release the bed. “Kim, stop it,” she sobbed. “Please!”
Several other nurses arrived, including the head nurse and a brawny male nurse. Everyone converged on Kim, who initially remained intent on pushing the bed into the hall. Even Kathleen pulled herself up from the floor to lend a hand. Finally overwhelmed, Kim let go of the bed, but he wasn’t happy. He yelled that anyone who didn’t understand that Becky’s condition was a surgical emergency was incompetent.
How will they put me to sleep?” Becky asked, with a voice already thick with sleep.
“They’ll just put some medicine in your IV,” Kim said. “Don’t worry, you won’t feel it. The next thing you’ll know is that you’re awake and all better.”
Becky was on a gurney in the anesthesia-holding area of the OR. A surgical cap covered her head. She’d been premedicated, so her pain and discomfort had abated, but she was anxious about facing surgery.
Kim was standing next to her gurney in a clutch of other gurneys with patients waiting to be taken to their respective operating rooms. He was dressed in scrubs, with a hood on his head and booties covering his shoes. He’d recovered his senses after the scene in Becky’s room an hour and a half earlier. He’d apologized profusely to Kathleen. She’d graciously said she understood. Claire had arrived soon after and had immediately requested an emergency surgical consult.
“Will I be all right, Daddy?” Becky asked.