Presidential Donor Read Online Free Page A
forced a smile at Lloyd's nurse.
"How is it going?" he asked.
"Not well, I'm afraid. His wedge pressure continues to go up, and his urine output is not what I expected with all the diuretics."
"Sounds like he's getting into some congestive heart failure."
She adjusted the IV monitor. "I think so."
After he completed his exam, Gregg pulled the stethoscope of his neck and slipped it into his back pocket. He looked up again at the monitor above the President's bed, then heaved a long sigh as he walked out of the room.
The Secretary of State grabbed him outside the door.
"Dr. Gregg, I'm Charles Lathbury, the President's Secretary of State."
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Lathbury. I only wish it were under different circumstances."
"Dr. Gregg, the First Lady is anxious to talk to you."
Gregg gave a comforting smile. "Yes, of course, I can talk to her now."
"She's down the hall, if you want to come with me. I'll introduce you."
Lathbury praised Gregg for the professionalism his staff had shown. True.
President Thomas Lloyd could not have picked a better place for a heart attack, Gregg thought. Brighton Heart Center held the distinction of being the world's most sophisticated cardiac hospital. To watch the technology in action, bordered on magnificent. With a staff of twelve hundred, and the best cardiologists and heart surgeons in the world, it rivaled none. Indeed, Lloyd could consider himself lucky in one regard. Given the scope of his cardiac injury--if he was anywhere else --he would already be in cold storage.
Gwen Lloyd sat in a secure room the Secret Service and hospital security had set up for her. Agents stood guard inside and out to protect her person, as well as her privacy.
They cleared Gregg and Lathbury at the door. The two entered the room and Gwen Lloyd jumped to her feet. Gregg could see a look of grave concern on her face: a look reserved for families of critically ill patients. That kind of Marcus Welby, anticipation of good news look that a surgeon gets when he comes in to tell the family the outcome of an operation. Unfortunately for Gwen Lloyd, the news was not good.
* * *
"Dr. Gregg," Lathbury said, "I would like you to meet First Lady Gwen Lloyd."
Gregg extended his hand. "Mrs. Lloyd, I'm sorry we have to meet this way, still it's a pleasure."
"I've heard wonderful things about you, Dr. Gregg." Her smile didn't match her words.
"That's very kind." Gregg took a deep breath. "Mrs. Lloyd, I've examined your husband, and I'm afraid I don't have any good news. Your husband has suffered a massive heart attack."
She nodded, ostensibly without emotion. She had expected as much and had tried to prepare herself. What she wasn't prepared for was what Dr. Gregg said next.
"I'm afraid he's going to need a transplant. He's lost eighty-percent of his heart muscle." Gregg paused while the PA system announced a code-blue.
"The only thing keeping him alive right now is the many medications we're using. That will only buy him so much time."
Gwen Lloyd looked away. "How long?" she asked.
"My guess is forty-eight hours."
She felt a sudden chill. "But can you find a donor so quickly?"
"Difficult, but not impossible. I've put the transplant team on standby, and I've notified procurement to begin a donor search. Every available donor center in Europe will try to find a heart for your husband."
"Thank God we were here."
"It's our saving grace. Brighton is the most sophisticated transplant center in the world. If a heart can be found, our team can find it. There is one other problem though."
"Oh?"
"I went through your husband's sonogram films. It seems he has transposition of the great vessels."
"Trans what?"
"Well to put it in simple terms, part of his heart is upside down. It means we need to find a donor with the same anomaly."
"Is that difficult?"
"It makes it harder, of course, but nothing we can't work around."
* * *
Difficult may have been the understatement of his career. Considering there are
"How is it going?" he asked.
"Not well, I'm afraid. His wedge pressure continues to go up, and his urine output is not what I expected with all the diuretics."
"Sounds like he's getting into some congestive heart failure."
She adjusted the IV monitor. "I think so."
After he completed his exam, Gregg pulled the stethoscope of his neck and slipped it into his back pocket. He looked up again at the monitor above the President's bed, then heaved a long sigh as he walked out of the room.
The Secretary of State grabbed him outside the door.
"Dr. Gregg, I'm Charles Lathbury, the President's Secretary of State."
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Lathbury. I only wish it were under different circumstances."
"Dr. Gregg, the First Lady is anxious to talk to you."
Gregg gave a comforting smile. "Yes, of course, I can talk to her now."
"She's down the hall, if you want to come with me. I'll introduce you."
Lathbury praised Gregg for the professionalism his staff had shown. True.
President Thomas Lloyd could not have picked a better place for a heart attack, Gregg thought. Brighton Heart Center held the distinction of being the world's most sophisticated cardiac hospital. To watch the technology in action, bordered on magnificent. With a staff of twelve hundred, and the best cardiologists and heart surgeons in the world, it rivaled none. Indeed, Lloyd could consider himself lucky in one regard. Given the scope of his cardiac injury--if he was anywhere else --he would already be in cold storage.
Gwen Lloyd sat in a secure room the Secret Service and hospital security had set up for her. Agents stood guard inside and out to protect her person, as well as her privacy.
They cleared Gregg and Lathbury at the door. The two entered the room and Gwen Lloyd jumped to her feet. Gregg could see a look of grave concern on her face: a look reserved for families of critically ill patients. That kind of Marcus Welby, anticipation of good news look that a surgeon gets when he comes in to tell the family the outcome of an operation. Unfortunately for Gwen Lloyd, the news was not good.
* * *
"Dr. Gregg," Lathbury said, "I would like you to meet First Lady Gwen Lloyd."
Gregg extended his hand. "Mrs. Lloyd, I'm sorry we have to meet this way, still it's a pleasure."
"I've heard wonderful things about you, Dr. Gregg." Her smile didn't match her words.
"That's very kind." Gregg took a deep breath. "Mrs. Lloyd, I've examined your husband, and I'm afraid I don't have any good news. Your husband has suffered a massive heart attack."
She nodded, ostensibly without emotion. She had expected as much and had tried to prepare herself. What she wasn't prepared for was what Dr. Gregg said next.
"I'm afraid he's going to need a transplant. He's lost eighty-percent of his heart muscle." Gregg paused while the PA system announced a code-blue.
"The only thing keeping him alive right now is the many medications we're using. That will only buy him so much time."
Gwen Lloyd looked away. "How long?" she asked.
"My guess is forty-eight hours."
She felt a sudden chill. "But can you find a donor so quickly?"
"Difficult, but not impossible. I've put the transplant team on standby, and I've notified procurement to begin a donor search. Every available donor center in Europe will try to find a heart for your husband."
"Thank God we were here."
"It's our saving grace. Brighton is the most sophisticated transplant center in the world. If a heart can be found, our team can find it. There is one other problem though."
"Oh?"
"I went through your husband's sonogram films. It seems he has transposition of the great vessels."
"Trans what?"
"Well to put it in simple terms, part of his heart is upside down. It means we need to find a donor with the same anomaly."
"Is that difficult?"
"It makes it harder, of course, but nothing we can't work around."
* * *
Difficult may have been the understatement of his career. Considering there are
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