Linda C

    I looked at the patient's release form on my desk. As I reached for the form to sign it my thoughts went back to that fateful day in May, now almost two and a half months ago when I had been called to the emergency room along with the rest of Memorial Hospital's Level One Trauma Team.

    A policeman had been shot down in the underground police garage at Parker Center. Anytime that the trauma team was called to the ER it meant only one thing, that our incoming patient was most likely more dead than alive.

    Hurrying down the corridors to the ER all I saw was a sea of blue uniforms speeding the stretcher with it's precious cargo into the hospital. The emergency response team that had been called to the police garage was walking as rapidly as possible hoping against hope that their patient would live long enough to be given up to the care of one of the hospital's Trauma Team doctors. The grim look on their faces spoke volumes to me, they knew this man was closer to death then life.

    Even from this distance I could see blood and lots of it seeping thorough the thin blanket that was draped over the unconscious policeman.

    An oxygen mask was over the man's face and IV's were in place now  being held up by the nurses that had been waiting for the ambulance to arrive. A tracheal tube was protruding from the man's throat in a desperate attempt to allow him to breathe, probably one of the reasons this man had stayed alive long enough to reach the hospital.

    Next to the stretcher walked a tall blonde man, one hand on the stretcher and the other pushing anyone and everyone he perceived to be in the way of the stretcher progress into the hospital's Trauma Center.

    There was blood everywhere, on his hands, on his shirt, and on his pants, streaks of it on and around his mouth and down the sides of his neck. From what I could see I could not believe he was still standing up, then realization hit me, the blood on this man was from the policeman on the stretcher.

    I began to run to the cubicle where the hospital team took the victim, sparing only a moment to notice the pain and despair in the eyes of the blonde man, more pain then I have ever seen.

    The man looked over at me.

    "Help him, please help him."

    "That's what I'm here for Sir, but I need room to work,  you can wait out there," and I pointed to the waiting room area. But his focus was back on the wounded man, I doubt he had heard a thing I had just said. He stared at the nurses who were cutting off the bloodied leather jacket from the deathly still form and at the two other nurses who were frantically dabbing at the blood on the man's chest and abdomen.

    "Get out of here and let me do my job son, can't help your friend here if this place is overrun with the City's finest."

    Nothing...he just stood there transfixed with the movements of the nurses and other personnel already working on the critically wounded man.

    I thought I would have to have him bodily removed from the cubicle but just then another man appeared at his side.

    "Let's let them do their job, let them help your partner."

    There was no resistance from the distraught blonde man as the older heavyset black man asserted his authority tugging at the blonde's jacket sleeve and dragging him backwards out of the ER cubicle.

    I focused my attention on the ashen faced man lying so still, losing blood at a rapid rate, if he lived long enough to be taken out of the ER Trauma Center to be prepped for emergency surgery I would be surprised, he had at first glance what appeared to be unsurvivable injuries. I barked out orders and hospital personnel hurried to carry them out.

    "Get an operating room ready, stat!, this man hasn't much time and if we don't stop this bleeding we'll lose this man right here..."

    The life-saving surgery took almost five hours, it was a frantic attempt to repair the damage that the bullets that had invaded this policeman's body had done, all the while the nurses and assisting doctor's frantically soaking up the blood from the massive wounds he had sustained.

    His blood pressure was precariously low, his pulse was almost nonexistent. I had to have extra units of blood standing nearby while I quickly as possible probed for the bullets that had ripped into his internal organs, I had seen the exit wounds but there was so much blood I wasn't sure yet that there weren't any fragments left still working their damage, one bullet had taken out a part of his liver, one ripping into his lung which had collapsed, and one as close to his heart as it could get without shattering it completely. Some of his ribs had been broken by one of the bullets, I had two other doctors helping me as we raced against time, something this officer had precious little of.

    His pallor was a sickly gray and he was still losing blood at an alarming rate, we pumped it into him and his body pumped it back out through the entry and exit wounds. Finally we had finished stitching him up as I double checked and triple checked if there was anything else I could possibly do to give this man a chance for another day, maybe just another hour, anything.... I had done all I could humanly do, had used every bit of my twenty years of medical experience...but now it would be up to a higher power than me...

    I left the operating room and made my way to the patient's waiting room area, this was always one of the hardest parts of my job, talking to family or friends, explaining to them that there just wasn't anything else I could do for their loved one, watching grown men crumble and wives cry in my arms. I hated this.

    The blonde man that had come in with the policeman was sitting on the edge of one of the plastic chairs, his head in his hands, hands that now had a brown tint to them, the blood was still on his jacket and pants and had now turned to a dark brown, although he had washed it off of his face there were lingering traces of it on his mustache.

    When he heard me approach he jumped up from the chair and with the same desperately frightened eyes I had seen in the ER he made an attempt to control himself, control that I knew he was having a very hard time holding on to. "Doctor, how, how...is...he?"

    I wanted the man to sit back down in the chair before he fell down. "Let's sit down and talk."

    The blonde man reached behind him to feel for the chair and sat on the edge of it never taking his eyes off of my face. His face was pleading with me to tell him what he so desperately wanted to hear.

    "My name is Doctor Kellerman. And your name is?"

    "Ken Hutchinson, he's my partner."

    "Ken, may I call you Ken?"

    "Sure, but most people just call me Hutch, Starsk calls me Huut..."

    "Oh God, this can't be happening, I yelled for him to get down, but even if he had they were on his side of the car, he had no where to go. He had no chance at all."

    "Ken...Hutch I would like to tell you that everything is going to be just fine, but he has suffered massive injuries, his lung had collapsed already by the time he was brought here, one of the other bullets hit his liver, even though the bullets exited through his back they did a considerable amount of damage throughout his body. The human body can only withstand so much, his has about hit its limit. Now it is up to your friend in there and the 'Man Upstairs', medically we've done everything we can. I'm really very sorry. If he makes it through the next twenty-four hours we'll see where we are then, but I don't want to get your hopes up. It doesn't look good." And to myself I said, by all rights he should have been dead before he hit the pavement.

    I had almost forgotten about the older, large black man that had taken this policeman out of the ER when his partner had been brought it, now he stood beside the younger man, putting his arm around the slumped shoulders.

    "Hutch, let's go down to the cafeteria and get some coffee, Doctor, you know where we'll be, if anything changes or happens..."

    "No, I am NOT leaving, then more quietly, I want to sit with him for a while."

    Usually I don't allow family or friends into the ICU cubicles but I could not find it in my heart to tell this man that he couldn't spend what might be his last few precious moments with his friend.

    "Okay, just wait a few minutes and when they get him settled I'll have a nurse come get you, but you have to leave if we tell you to."

    The younger man knuckled his hands at his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to wipe away the tears that were beginning to stream  down his face and he leaned against the wall in the waiting room and wept like a child.

********

    Twenty four hours had passed and my patient, Sergeant David M. Starsky was still alive, not by much but still hanging in there.

    He had given me a scare, his heart had stopped and we had finally gotten it beating again, and you can call it coincidental if you want but there has to be something else here.

    At the moment that his heart began beating again the doors at the end of the ICU corridor had burst open, my patient's partner was tearing through the corridor pushing any obstacle, people and things out of his way, he skidded to a halt in front of his friend's ICU cubicle and his eyes were wide with fear and dread.

    "He's alive, not out of the woods yet, but I'll be damned if he isn't alive."

    The blonde slumped against the window of the cubicle closing his eyes, struggling to catch his breath.

********

    The day that David Starsky woke up from his coma  I saw a transformation in the countenance of his friend, from that day on he was a changed man, from one with almost no hope to one of cautious optimism. I had to admit that barring any unforeseen complications and there could be many my patient was alive and he was getting better, he was truly a miracle.

********

    As the days turned into weeks I watched the healing miracle of love and friendship unfold before my eyes.

    Hutch put in more hours at the hospital then I did during his friend's hospital stay. I walked in on them one morning right after breakfast, Hutch was helping his friend out of bed and to the bathroom. There was a gentleness in every more that he made helping David. The nurses had soon found out that when Hutch was with David, Hutch would do for David, from the barest necessities to helping his friend find a more comfortable position in bed and even in some cases cleaning up after him when he got sick.

    "Easy Starsk, let's get your slippers on and then we can take a stroll to the bathroom."

    "Kay, Hutch I think I can do this, but my legs still feel like rubber bands, hang onto me okay?"

    "I'm right here Starsk, not gonna let go of you, just take it nice and slow, we got all the time in the world."

    There was sweat beading up on David's forehead and I knew that the simple task of sitting up and getting out of the bed and then standing up for the trip to the bathroom was exhausting what little strength he had. But watching the two of them, I knew that any help I offered would be looked at as an intrusion into their personal space.

    Hutch looked up and saw me standing inside of the door to his partner's room.

    "Hi Doc, look at this, he's walking pretty good, don't you think?"

    Hutch was so proud of his partner in each new thing that he was able to do.

    I looked at David, although he looked worn out he had a smile on his face as he looked at me.

    "Doctor K., can't quite make it by myself yet but I'm getting there, sides Blondie here needs to make himself useful." He looked over at his partner, I'm gonna be just fine."

    Hutch saw how shaky his newly confident partner was. "Did you forget what you got up for? Do what you have to do and then let's get you back in bed, you're not up to a marathon yet."

    With that, Hutch guided his friend into the bathroom, turned around and smiled at me and closed the door behind them.

    These two would be just fine, it would be a long haul for David and it was questionable what the future would hold for him but if love and friendship and caring had anything to do with it he would be just fine.

    A couple of minutes later the bathroom door opened and my patient was holding unto his partner, his optimism about being up and on his feet had faded.

    Hutch walked behind him with both arms under his partner's and held him as close to his own body as he could, supporting most of David's weight, walking them both the few short steps to the bed.

    "Starsk, go slow."

    He helped his partner sit down on the edge of the bed and gently lifted up his legs with one arm and with the other eased his partner's upper body back against the pillows.

    David was panting and sweating, and he was in pain from all the movement.

    "You okay buddy?

    "Gimme a minute, damn my chest hurts like hell."

    I walked into the room then.

    "David, that's about enough getting up out of the bed for you for a while, I want you to lay still and let your body settle down, the pain will be much more bearable then, I'm going to get you something to let you sleep and it will also help with the pain."

    "Thanks Doc, that would be nice, I'm trying but it still hurts like hell to move around."

    "You're doing just fine David, but you have to take it one day at a time and take it slow."

    "He will take it slow Doc, I'll make sure of it, won't you Starsk?"

    "Starsk?"

    "Yes Mom, whatever you say." and David gave his partner a crooked tired smile.

    I smiled at Hutch, who smiled back at me.

********

    Two and a half months later…I signed the release form for one David Michael Starsky, got up from my desk to go say goodbye to my miracle patient.

    Sometimes the good guys do win.

THE END