Chapter 2 II

After completing her early morning workout, Tasha hastened back to her parked car, her hair gathered in a tight ponytail and her gym bag slung over her shoulder. A glance at her watch revealed that she had a mere forty-five minutes to grab a low-fat protein shake and arrive at Parker's Metropolitan Hospital in time for her first list with Mr. O'Connor. Despite feeling both excited and anxious about her neurological rotation, she had heard nothing but favorable feedback about the facility's staff and state-of-the-art equipment.

As she exited the parking lot, she realized that she had left her phone with the gym receptionist due to a new policy prohibiting the use of camera phones in changing rooms. She promptly turned off the ignition and parked her vehicle once more on the closest available street spot. Before she could even step out, however, a loud thwack and a string of profanities caught her attention as a cyclist fell off his bike right in front of her.

"Oh my God!" Tasha gasped, hastening to the man's side. "Are you all right?"

The cyclist appeared disoriented, his arms and legs scraped and bleeding from his fall onto the hard bitumen. Tasha immediately recalled the Emergency Management of Severe Trauma course she had taken a month ago and mentally recited the ABCDEs: Airway, Breathing, Circulation, Disability, and Exposure. "First, establish his airway with cervical spine control," she reminded herself. "Then, check his respiratory movements, pulse, and BP to stop external hemorrhage. Next, AVPU neuro assessment and undress him..." She confirmed that his airway was clear and that he was breathing before moving on to check for other injuries.

As a gentle hand touched his body, Peter's eyes snapped open. "What in the world-?"

Tasha spoke soothingly, "Stay calm. I'm a physician. You shouldn't move. I'm going to call an ambulance."

He groaned in protest, "I don't need a bloody ambulance. I'm a-"

"Hey," interrupted Tasha, recognizing him. "What are you doing here?"

After spotting the phone on the water bottle belt, Tasha swiftly retrieved it and dialed 911, then proceeded to the trunk of her car to provide the operator with precise directions to their location. She was a picture of calm and composure, determined to provide the best care possible to the cyclist in need.

Peter shook his head in an effort to make the school of silverfish that were floating by his eyes disappear. He couldn't believe he had been knocked off by someone opening a Porsche door on him. The driver had been so careless, not even glancing in his direction. How could someone be so thoughtless?

As Tasha dropped to her knees next to him, she informed him that the ambulance was just two minutes away, carrying what looked like a doctor's bag. His eyes widened as she pulled out a firm cervical collar and began rummaging through it. He protested, "I don't need that, hey!"

"It's a safety precaution," she explained calmly. "You might have broken your cervical vertebrae. You were pretty hard on the road."

Peter tried to protest again, but the collar was already being tightened around his neck, cutting off his words. The screeching siren of the ambulance drowned out the rest of his words as it approached. Tasha quickly bandaged his scraped knees and elbows with enough bandages to make him feel like an Egyptian mummy, and he sat back and grinned.

Tasha breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that his pupils were both equal and responsive after shining a bright light into them. Despite his injuries, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he was, with his chiseled and lean features, toned and tanned body, and unshaven jaw that added to his masculine appeal. She sternly reminded herself to focus on his medical needs, however.

She took his arm, put on a tourniquet, and just as the ambulance pulled up, she inserted an IV line into his antecubital fossa, warning him, "This will sting a bit," before he could protest through the choked cervical collar.

Peter stopped protesting after the paramedics arrived. He was immobilized with sandbags on either side of his neck, a spinal board, a liter of normal saline in his arm, and an oxygen mask on his face that let dry, rubbery oxygen into his mouth and nose. Just as the ambulance's back door was slammed shut and the siren sounded, the police arrived on the scene. Tasha tearfully confessed to the officers what had happened, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation.

As the vehicle accelerated toward his own hospital, Peter murmured to himself, "Yep, it certainly was," realizing just how lucky he was to have someone like Tasha at his side in his time of need.