When Crickets Cry Read Online Free
Author: Charles Martin
difficulty focusing, and her arm hung like that of a string puppet. There was a lot going on around me-people, horns, and a distant siren-but I was trained on three things: pulse, pupils, and airway.
The nitro dissolved and color soon filled Annie's cheeks-the result of expanded blood vessels, increased blood flow, and oxygen to the extremities.
The woman spoke softly. "Annie? Annie?" She patted Annie's hand. "Hold on, baby. Help's coming. Hold on. They're coming. I can hear them now."
Annie nodded and tried to smile. Her pulse had quickened slightly but remained somewhat erratic.
While the siren grew closer, I gauged how long it would take them to arrive, diagnose and stabilize, and then transport. That meant Annie was about twelve minutes from the emergency room.
With Annie blinking and looking at the people around her, I spoke again to the cashier. "Now, the other half."
Annie opened her mouth, and the woman placed the other half beneath her tongue. When that had dissolved, I pulled my own vial out of my pocket, emptied its contents, and handed her one small baby aspirin.
"Now this."
She did as instructed. I unclasped the watch end of my heart rate monitor and re-clasped it about Annie's wrist. Even on the last hole, it was loose.
While the sirens grew closer, I looked at the woman across from me and pointed at the watch and the transmitter across Annie's chest. "This goes with that. It's making a record of what's going on with her heart. The ER doc, if he's any good, will know what to do with it."
She nodded and pushed Annie's sweat and mud-caked hair out of her eyes and behind her ears.
The paramedics arrived ten seconds later and jumped alongside me. Seeing me in control, they first looked at me.
I wasted no time. "Blunt trauma. Flail segment left chest wall, cleared airway, spontaneous respiration is 37. Felt crepitus, suggesting subcutaneous emphysema, suspicious of partial pneumothorax left side."
The young EMT looked at me with a dazed expression on his face.
I explained, "I think she dropped a lung."
He nodded, and I continued, "Heart rate 155, but irregular. Brief LOC, now GCS 12."
He interrupted me. "She had her bell rung."
I continued, "She's had 0.2 sublingual nitro times two, five minutes apart." I pointed to her midsternal chest scar. "Post open-heart. Possibly, twelve months ago. And"-I looked at my watch-"polar heart rate monitor in place and recording for seven minutes."
He nodded, stepped in, and began placing an oxygen mask over her mouth.
Behind me, the tractor twins sat wide-eyed and openmouthed. Having made sense of me, they made no attempt to pull me away. And that was good. Because I had the feeling that had they really wanted to, they could have. Surprise had been my asset, and it was gone.
The medic monitored Annie's pupils, told her to breathe normally, and began wrapping the blood pressure cuff around her right biceps, while the second paramedic returned with a hard collar and a backboard. Two minutes later, careful not to aggravate her arm, they had inserted an IV with saline fluids to help elevate her pressure, loaded her into the ambulance, sat Aunt Cici alongside, and were driving toward the Rabun County Hospital. As they shut the door, her aunt was stroking Annie's hair and whispering in her ear.
While the street cleared and police questioned the driver of the panel truck, the locals milled along the sidewalks, hands in pockets, shaking their heads and pointing up toward the intersection and down into the wind.
I turned to the two guys behind me and extended a hand to help the first up. "No hard feelings?"
The bigger of the two took my hand, and I strained to help him up.
He pointed toward the ambulance. "We thought you 'as goin' to hurt Annie."
My eyes followed the ambulance out of sight. I spoke almost to myself, "No sir. Not hardly." I helped the other to his feet, and the two walked off shaking their heads, straightening their caps, and adjusting the straps on
The nitro dissolved and color soon filled Annie's cheeks-the result of expanded blood vessels, increased blood flow, and oxygen to the extremities.
The woman spoke softly. "Annie? Annie?" She patted Annie's hand. "Hold on, baby. Help's coming. Hold on. They're coming. I can hear them now."
Annie nodded and tried to smile. Her pulse had quickened slightly but remained somewhat erratic.
While the siren grew closer, I gauged how long it would take them to arrive, diagnose and stabilize, and then transport. That meant Annie was about twelve minutes from the emergency room.
With Annie blinking and looking at the people around her, I spoke again to the cashier. "Now, the other half."
Annie opened her mouth, and the woman placed the other half beneath her tongue. When that had dissolved, I pulled my own vial out of my pocket, emptied its contents, and handed her one small baby aspirin.
"Now this."
She did as instructed. I unclasped the watch end of my heart rate monitor and re-clasped it about Annie's wrist. Even on the last hole, it was loose.
While the sirens grew closer, I looked at the woman across from me and pointed at the watch and the transmitter across Annie's chest. "This goes with that. It's making a record of what's going on with her heart. The ER doc, if he's any good, will know what to do with it."
She nodded and pushed Annie's sweat and mud-caked hair out of her eyes and behind her ears.
The paramedics arrived ten seconds later and jumped alongside me. Seeing me in control, they first looked at me.
I wasted no time. "Blunt trauma. Flail segment left chest wall, cleared airway, spontaneous respiration is 37. Felt crepitus, suggesting subcutaneous emphysema, suspicious of partial pneumothorax left side."
The young EMT looked at me with a dazed expression on his face.
I explained, "I think she dropped a lung."
He nodded, and I continued, "Heart rate 155, but irregular. Brief LOC, now GCS 12."
He interrupted me. "She had her bell rung."
I continued, "She's had 0.2 sublingual nitro times two, five minutes apart." I pointed to her midsternal chest scar. "Post open-heart. Possibly, twelve months ago. And"-I looked at my watch-"polar heart rate monitor in place and recording for seven minutes."
He nodded, stepped in, and began placing an oxygen mask over her mouth.
Behind me, the tractor twins sat wide-eyed and openmouthed. Having made sense of me, they made no attempt to pull me away. And that was good. Because I had the feeling that had they really wanted to, they could have. Surprise had been my asset, and it was gone.
The medic monitored Annie's pupils, told her to breathe normally, and began wrapping the blood pressure cuff around her right biceps, while the second paramedic returned with a hard collar and a backboard. Two minutes later, careful not to aggravate her arm, they had inserted an IV with saline fluids to help elevate her pressure, loaded her into the ambulance, sat Aunt Cici alongside, and were driving toward the Rabun County Hospital. As they shut the door, her aunt was stroking Annie's hair and whispering in her ear.
While the street cleared and police questioned the driver of the panel truck, the locals milled along the sidewalks, hands in pockets, shaking their heads and pointing up toward the intersection and down into the wind.
I turned to the two guys behind me and extended a hand to help the first up. "No hard feelings?"
The bigger of the two took my hand, and I strained to help him up.
He pointed toward the ambulance. "We thought you 'as goin' to hurt Annie."
My eyes followed the ambulance out of sight. I spoke almost to myself, "No sir. Not hardly." I helped the other to his feet, and the two walked off shaking their heads, straightening their caps, and adjusting the straps on
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