Eric Stoneway

Beep… beep… beep… A constant reminder of the life hanging by a thread. The one I now held in my hands. 

Beep… beep… so far the boy was stable, a relief for me but the procedure was still not over. I was working on releasing some trauma building up in his head from a car accident. It involved removing a small portion of the the boys skull. I was almost done, now was the matter of patching him up. 

Beep… beep… beep… a drop of sweat slid down my face. The nurse next to me wiped it off. “You’re doing good” she incurred.” Almost there.” 

Beep… beep… beep.. beep. beep beep beep shit, no, no, no I grit my teeth and started stitching his head shut. 

Beeeee… “He's not breathing” another nurse said. “He's going into cardiac arrest. Start the defibrillator Stand back three, two, one, clear. The shock sent the boy's body into spasms. Silence we waited. The nurse got ready again, "in three two one clear." Again the boy’s body spasmed. I turned my head away from him. “One more time” the nurse called out. Three, two, one, clear. Shock. Still no beat. 

We knew, we all knew that the moment the boy’s heart stopped he was gone. We could feel it. I saw it in the nurse's eyes. Years of practice, education, and dedication still never prepares you for when a life is lost on the table. 

I look at the boy, his blond hair sticking to his temple with blood, and his body toned and tan like he was outside a lot. He couldn't have been older than twenty two. My stomach clenched and I had to look away to keep the bile that burned in my throat down. 

“Dr. Stoneway, the parents are still out in the waiting area. Do you want to tell then or have me do it?” One of the nurses asks softly. I swallowed clenched my hands into fist “I'll do it”. I slid the gown and mask off. Then uncurled my hands enough to peel my gloves off before again clenching them. 

I knew I shouldn't feel this way, degrading thoughts in my head. It wasn't my fault but still informing a parent that they have lost a child, one they put under my care… It still hurts it will always hurt and one of these days it might break me, but for now I headed toward the white double doors leading to the waiting area. My skin smelling of cleaner and blood, to tell a couple that their only child had passed and watch them cry and possibly blame the doctor that couldn't save him.