Miracles in the ER (7 page)

We discussed counseling, fewer hours, more exercise, more time with his family. He was going to try all those things.

Every week or so I would ask how he was doing—was he making progress? The answer was always the same: “I’m doing fine.” Finally I stopped asking. I was hopeful this was going to work—hopeful that this would be a turning point for Darren Whipple.

Apparently it wasn’t.

“Let’s talk about this ‘answer to prayer’ business, Lori. What exactly do you mean?”

Virginia glanced at me, adjusted her glasses, and headed for her office.

“It’s just that I’ve been praying a long time for Dr. Whipple,” Lori began. “He’s such a nice man and a good doctor—I hate to see him so tormented.
I think the talk you had with him helped some, but like Virginia said, it didn’t stick. He was better, or seemed to be. But something was simmering just below the surface. There was something in his eyes, some unrest or something. I just sensed he could explode at any minute. He was trying hard, but it was too much for him. And then he
did
explode.”

“Explode? What are you talking about?” This was news to me.

“Ms. Granger made me promise not to say anything to you.” Lori glanced around the department and lowered her voice. “She made Dr. Whipple promise too, and Sharon Mahaffey.”

“Sharon Mahaffey? What does she have to do with any of this?” Sharon was a veteran ER nurse and worked the night shift.

“Dr. Whipple blew up at Sharon one night and she went straight to Ms. Granger. She said she didn’t have to take the abuse that Dr. Whipple gave her and would resign from the ER if something didn’t happen.”

“Why didn’t I hear anything about this?” I shook my head, wondering what planet I had been on.

“Like I said, Ms. Granger made us all swear to keep it quiet. She wanted to see if Dr. Whipple could change and make things right.”

She paused and looked at me. “I’m sorry, Dr. Lesslie, if—”

“No, I understand, Lori. If Virginia wanted to keep this quiet, you were only doing what she asked. But what happened?”

She shook her head and again glanced around the department.

“The four of us were in her office and she had Dr. Whipple sit down, right in front of her. She told him that his behavior was unacceptable, that he needed to decide if he wanted to work in this ER or whether he wanted to be a doctor at all. That really got his attention, but he didn’t say anything. He just sat there and listened. Then Ms. Granger stopped, and we all sat there for a couple of minutes, no one saying a word. Finally, she got up, walked over to Dr.Whipple, and put a hand on his shoulder. She told him we’re a family, and a family looks after each other. We wanted to look after him, but he had to decide something first. He had to decide if he wanted to be in this family.

“I think I saw tears in his eyes, but he looked down and I couldn’t be sure. When he sat up, it was like a light had been turned on. He apologized to Ms. Granger and Sharon, and he apologized to me. He thanked us, then walked out of the office and back to work. He’s been different ever since, as I said a little while ago. But he’s not just easier to get along
with—he’s happier and more at peace. I bet when he gets the chance, he’ll apologize to you too. You’ll see. He’s different.”

She stopped and smiled at me.

“I see what you mean by an ‘answer to prayer,’ ” I said quietly. “You’ve been praying a long time for this, and your prayers have been answered.”

“Answered in the form of Virginia Granger,” Lori chuckled. “Funny how the Lord works sometimes. He knew just what Dr. Whipple needed to hear and when he needed to hear it. And he knew who he needed to hear it from. He used Ms. Granger to answer my prayers.”

I glanced at Virginia’s closed office door, and again at Lori—thankful for these two wise women the Lord had placed in my life.

U
NSEEN
Miracles

A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants. Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop—a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown. Whoever has ears, let them hear.

J
ESUS
, in Matthew 13:3-9

A Seed Planted

Harriet Gray’s glass was always half full, and if she had a motto to live by, it would probably have been “accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative…don’t mess with Mr. In-Between.” She lived that way, and spent forty-two years as a nurse in the ER demonstrating those words with her infectious smile, her warm caring, and a crushing hug that left little doubt how she felt about you. If you could paint the picture of a grandmother, it would be Harriet Gray.

She and Virginia Granger had been together in the trenches of the ER for several decades and were each other’s best friend. When Virginia’s husband had died a few years ago, Harriet was right beside her, day and night, for more than a week. And when Harriet lost consciousness in the ER one day with new-onset diabetes, it was Virginia’s turn. She stayed in the ICU with Harriet until she was finally able to move to a regular bed.

Together they trained a lot of nurses and molded a lot of young physicians who worked in the ER. I was fortunate enough to be one of those young ER docs, and fortunate enough to have the air hugged out of me on numerous occasions.

Jackie Watts was lying on the stretcher of the cardiac room, eyes closed, arms folded over his abdomen. He had been brought in from the county jail, complaining of chest pain. Two sheriff’s deputies had accompanied him.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with him, Doc,” one of the deputies told me. A wad of snuff under his upper lip made it hard to understand him, and I leaned closer and watched his mouth, intrigued. “Says he has chest pain,
but he was doin’ fine. Heck, he’s twenty-six years old. He ain’t havin’ no heart attack.”

We were standing in the hallway just outside cardiac, waiting for one of our techs to finish an EKG.

“He’s probably just lookin’ for a chance to—”

There was a metallic crash, followed by a high-pitched scream. The young tech flew out of the room, her eyes wide and mouth gaping. She jabbed a finger behind her, pointing into cardiac, and ran down the hallway, disappearing around the far corner.

“What tha—” The deputy jumped back and his hand flew to the handle of his holstered gun.

Then it was Jackie’s turn. He bolted through the doorway—EKG electrodes and wires dangling from his chest and arms—and right into the enormous belly of the deputy. The law officer didn’t budge, but Jackie, weighing two hundred pounds less, bounced off and collapsed on the floor. He shook his head, glanced around the room, and was about to get up when the officer stepped over and put two heavy hands on his shoulders.

“Hold on right there, Jackie. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

The other deputy hurried over to the scene of the near escape, and the two of them lifted Jackie off the floor and carried him over to the stretcher. This time he was handcuffed to the rails—both arms and both legs. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Oh! My chest!” he wailed.

“Yeah, right.” One of the deputies smirked. “You’d better behave, Jackie. Next time you try that, we won’t be so nice.”

Jackie cocked an eye at him, opened his mouth to say something, but remained silent. He closed his eyes again and folded his arms over his belly.

“Do what you gotta do, Doc,” the portly deputy told me in the hallway. “I know you need to check out his chest pain, but we’d like to get back to the jail as soon as we can. We’ll be right outside if you need us.”

“It shouldn’t take long. We’ll let you know.”

We
would
have to check out his complaints—at least finish the EKG we’d started. Probably going to have to find another tech to do that.

His vital signs were completely normal. His physical exam, other than a multitude of tattoos, was unremarkable. And his EKG was fine. We would soon be releasing him into the loving care of the deputies.

I was at the nurses’ station, finishing up his chart, when Harriet Gray walked out of cardiac and over to where I stood.

“Troubled young man, Mr. Jackie.” She was smiling, but her furrowed brow betrayed her real emotion. “Troubled.”

She walked over to the medicine room and disappeared through the doorway.

I walked into cardiac to give Mr. Watts the good news. We were alone, and before I could say anything, he blurted, “Who was that woman? That old nurse who was just in here?”

His eyes were narrow slits and his fists were clenched, struggling against the handcuffs. My face flushed and anger spread through me like a searing wave. He was talking about Harriet.

“That’s
nurse
Gray. She—”

“I don’t want her in here again! Do you hear me? Keep her away from me!”

It was all I could do to remain calm and not get right down in his face.

“You hear me?” he screamed again.

I walked out of the room and through the ambulance entrance. The two deputies were leaning against the front hood of their patrol car and stood up straight as I walked over.

“Your prisoner is ready to go, guys. You were right. There’s nothing wrong with him. Nothing we can fix.”

Jackie Watts continued to follow the path of too many young men in this town—in a lot of towns. We would see him every couple of months, usually in the company of city or county officers, and with an assortment of injuries and ailments. He had a few stab wounds, broken bones, and at least two overdoses. And then he just disappeared. Several years went by, and he didn’t darken our doorstep.

Then one day he appeared again. This time he came walking through the triage room with Lori Davidson, right up to where I stood. I recognized him immediately, and took a step backward.

“Doc, you remember me? I’m Jackie Watts.”

“He said it was important, Dr. Lesslie,” Lori said from behind the man, raising her eyebrows and shrugging. “That it would only take a minute. I hope it’s okay.”

“Sure, Lori.” I nodded at her, then looked at Jackie. He was standing
straight, freshly shaven and neatly dressed. Not the way I last saw him. “What can I do for you, Mr. Watts?”