Dating Dr Delicious

She headed down to the trauma bay, only to find Jake already there, standing at the patient’s bedside. He didn’t look nearly as tired as she felt.

“What do we have?” she asked in a low voice.

“A young man with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome.” Jake glanced up at her. “Are you familiar with it?”

Ehlers-Danlos syndrome? She stared at him. Her mind went blank. Absolutely, completely blank.

“No?” The sharp disappointment in his tone hurt, more than it should have. “I suggest you do some research—it’s a rare genetic disorder.”

She glanced over at the patient, a very handsome young man who looked to be in his early twenties. He was moaning and grimacing, as if he was in excruciating pain.

“Start a dilaudid pain pump and get a full-body CT scan,” Jake said to the nurse. “And I want to see the results of his CT scan, stat.”

Hannah pushed the emotionally draining exhaustion away and forced herself to focus. She had read about the disease, she knew she had. As she and Jake stepped away from the bedside, she finally pulled the knowledge from the deep recesses of her brain. “Ehlers-Danlos syndrome is classified by weak tissue, primarily blood vessels, resulting in multiple aneurysms.”

“Yes.” There was a flash of approval in Jake’s gaze. But then he turned serious again. “Unfortunately, Christopher Melbourne was first diagnosed with this disease at the age of seven.”

Seven? Good heavens, she couldn’t even imagine. “It’s a miracle he’s survived this long,” she murmured.

“Yes. Although with the abdominal pain he’s currently experiencing, I’m very much afraid he has a leaking abdominal aortic aneurysm.”

Her stomach clenched. Abdominal aortic aneurysms were known to be serious, life-threatening conditions. “Can you surgically repair it?”

“No. Too risky. All his blood vessels are weak and fragile, to the point that they would never hold a new tissue graft. As it is, he’s been walking around with a large aneurysm in his axillary artery that no surgeon has been brave enough to repair.”

They couldn’t operate? “So what can we do for him?”

Jake slowly shook his head, and she caught a surprising glimpse of true anguish in his eyes.

“Nothing. Except make him as comfortable as possible until he dies.”

CHAPTER FOUR

JAKE stared at the dismal results of Christopher’s CT scan, battling a surge of helplessness. He’d never seen an abdominal aneurysm this huge, extending from the heart all the way down to the kidneys. He was amazed Christopher was still coherent. No way could he afford to operate on this poor kid. He’d die on the O.R. table for sure.

There was nothing worse than losing a young patient.

Except maybe standing by and doing nothing while watching him die.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and sighed. No matter how much he wished otherwise, there wasn’t a single treatment option he could offer. Except comfort measures. He walked back to Christopher’s bedside where Hannah was finishing her head-to-toe assessment. “I’ve confirmed a leaking triple A,” he said in a low tone, not meant for Christopher to hear. “We need to get him transferred up to the surgical ICU.”

“Doctor...have you...called my father?” Christopher asked Hannah, his wide eyes sunken into his thin face.

Hannah leaned over and took Christopher’s frail hand firmly in hers. As they’d worked together over the past several hours, Jake had noticed she touched patients a lot. Connecting in a way that made them trust her. If she kept up the way she was going, she’d be a great surgeon. “Yes, he’s on his way.”

“Good,” Christopher whispered, before closing his eyes on another wave of pain.

Hannah brought her tortured gaze up to meet Jake’s and he slowly shook his head at her unspoken question. If he could somehow pull off a miracle, he would. But Christopher was dying. The boy’s fate was no longer in his hands.

Just as they were about to wheel him up to the ICU, his father, Allen Melbourne, rushed in, eyes wide with fear. “Chris? Are you okay?”

“Dad,” Chris whispered, reaching out for his father. “I’m glad you’re here. The pain is bad. Really bad.”

Jake saw the question in the father’s eyes and hastened to assure him. “We have him on a pain pump, with a substantial dose of the strongest narcotic we have. He should start to feel better soon. And we’re moving him to the ICU.”

“Not to surgery?” Allen asked with a frown, glancing between Jake and Hannah.

“No. I’m afraid Chris isn’t a candidate for surgery,” Jake said, as gently as he could. At this point Chris was technically a full code, but Jake had no plans to actively resuscitate him. In fact, he shouldn’t really take him to the ICU, but he wanted Chris and his father to know he’d be closely watched.

Myriad emotions played over Allen’s face until, eventually, resigned acceptance remained. Jake noticed Hannah’s eyes glistening with tears, but then she quickly pulled herself under control.

“We’re going to take very good care of your son,” she promised.

“I know,” Allen said simply. He held his son’s hand as they wheeled him down the hall toward the elevators. The simple ride to the third floor seemed excruciatingly long.