OCR Text |
Show 175 are bursting out the door and Dr. Chappie is going around to the driver's side of the car because I am leaning heavily on the passenger door. She picks up my limp arm and drops it. It falls as gravity would have it fall and it bangs on the console. "Let's get her over to the hospital," she is saying, giving directions to that driveway. The hospital is in the next block and it is quicker for Barbara to drive. Dr. Chappie has climbed into the back seat and is holding my head in a better position for my breathing. The emergency room crew is extracting my fluid body from the car to place it on the gurney and Dr. Chappie is running back to her office for the computer which controls the pump. Barbara is standing nearby, wide-eyed. No one relieves her of her burden of worry. Dr. Chappie arrives in my curtained section of the ER at the same time as I do, computer in hand. She is setting it up, wishing for a closer plug and quicker booting-up, asking me how I am doing. She is trying to be cheerful. I can only whisper now and I am hoping my croaking response matches her incongruously reassuring good cheer. She places the wand over the pump in my abdomen and punches the "Emergency Stop" button into the computer. The printer's typing assures her that the pump has been stopped. |