TUESDAY TALE~1

Kathleen Grieve (Contemporary Medical Romance)

~Unedited~At the last minute, I decided to try my hand at Tuesday Tales.  Not bad for my first attempt. Please excuse any typos!   It is PG, not wanting to get too racy for my first time out of the gate. I hope you enjoy and will come back as I rack up the heat level next week!

The local high school marching band tuned their instruments on there local football field located on the opposite side of the fence backing up to Mary’s backyard.  With a groan she rolled over and buried her head under the pillow.  What on earth possessed school administration to torture the neighborhood at dawn on a Saturday morning?

The uneven cacophony of sounds clashed as the students began their first song.  With any chance of catching a few more Zzz’s shot, Mary jumped out of bed and padded barefoot into the bathroom.  She splashed cold water on her face and gazed at her reflection.  Tired, worn red-rimmed eyes and the underlying dark circles forming the bags under normally clear baby blues mocked her.

Maybe she tried to do too much, too fast?  Just because she was the only female intern on the trauma team fresh out of surgical residency didn’t mean she had to push so damn hard.  Her lips twisted.  Yes, that’s exactly what it meant.  Trauma Surgery was a just like being in a Men’s Club, complete with the “No Girls Allowed” sign posted on the locker room door.

After brushing her teeth, she went to close the patio door left open during the night to let the cool breeze inside and air out her small house which had been closed up tight while she’d been making rounds at the hospital.  The clear glass door faced the football field and from her perspective, she could actually view the students gleaming in their red and white uniforms as she glanced over the fence.

God, was she such a grouch? They’re just kids, participating in those grand extracurricular activities to get them further in life.  A slight commotion on the field caught her attention.  The marching band no longer made music and one student near where the tuba players stood waved frantically for an instructor.  Drawn by the chaos, Mary stepped onto her porch and leaned over the rough wooden railing.

A student seemed to be lying down on the field.  Adrenaline surged and she took the steps two at a time, tripped over the corner of a lawn chair, and climbed the fence, ignoring the sting of splinters in her palms, scraping her knees,  and the throbbing of her foot as she’d stubbed her toe.

As she neared, an instructor spoke into the phone.  “We’re at Johnson’s Field.  Please hurry!” he said.

“I’m a doctor,” Mary said, breathless from her sprint across the field.  “What’s her name?”  While she waited for a response, she assessed the young girl, feeling for a pulse and shaking her gently to try to get a response. 

The man gave her a dubious look.  “Jenny, ah Jenny Stanton,” he said.

“Well, Jenny is not breathing.  Is there an AED on campus? And did you call 911?” Mary asked as she started to do chest compressions.  

Mary had just renewed her Basic Life Support and was extremely thankful she had.  According to the new CPR guidelines, rescue breathing was not necessary, only compress the chest about a depth of one and a half inches, hard and fast so that the heart will beat about 100 beats per min.   An AED was an automatic external defibrillator and once in place will analyze the girl’s heart rhythm. 

“Yes, an ambulance is on the way, but I’m afraid due to budget cuts, we weren’t approved to have AED’s here at school,” he said.  “Umm, do you need help?”

“Do you know CPR?” she asked.

He shook his head.  “No.”

She glanced around at all the frightened faces of the students milling about.  “Crowd control and reassurance would be nice.”

Until the EMS crew arrived, Jenny Stanton had Mary’s full attention.  Her arms strained with the effort to compress the young girl’s chest and Mary's breath came out in short pants.

After what seemed like an eternity, the paramedics came and took over.  While they stowed Jenny away in the back of the ambulance, Mary flexed her fingers and rubbed her arms, trying to dispel the rubbery, numb feeling.  This certainly hadn’t been how she’d envisioned her first day off in a month.  She hoped the girl would be all right. 

“Did you say you were a doctor?”

Mary turned her head and glanced at the marching band leader.  His soft brown eyes traveled from the flannel short shorts to the cropped cotton t-shirt she’d worn to bed, missing nothing.

“Yes, I’m a surgeon in my first year of trauma residency,” she said.  She tried not to notice the stubble on his angular jaw, the broadness of his shoulders, and the definite all male interest.  It had been a long time since a man looked at her as a woman and not as a leper out for his position on the Trauma Team.  It surprised her how much she missed the base male/female interaction.  

His gaze warmed.  “I bet you see a lot of interesting stuff.”

She shrugged, not wanting to talk about work.  “Sometimes.”

“Look,” he scrubbed a hand through his dark hair.  “This is totally inappropriate…”

Mary smiled.  “Yes, it is.”  But she was in desperate need of inappropriate right now.  She waved him on and started to walk backward.  “I live over there,” she said as she flicked a thumb in the direction of her porch.  “Go deal with this and why don’t you stop by later and give me an update?”

A slow, sexy smile spread across his face displaying dimples.  She was a sucker for dimples.  She nearly sighed out loud, but caught herself just in time. 

“You can count on it,” he said.

From this day forward, Mary knew she'd be paying much closer attention to the marching band playing on Johnson's Field.

Don't forget to check out the other Tales at http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/ !!

Enjoy your Tuesday!

Kathleen