There was a sudden crackle of static from the radio. “Rescue Squad to hospital. Pick up please, hospital.”
One of the emergency room doctors got up and went to the device. He unclipped a small microphone that resembled a walkie-talkie receiver. “This is Dr. Foster. Go ahead.”
“Hi, Dr. Foster. We have an 64-year-old male complaining of severe chest pain. EKG shows ST segment elevations in contiguous leads.” The EMT sounded calm. He continued to rattle off technical information about the EKG and the medications they had administered. “Patient is conscious and alert.”
“What’s your ETA?” the doctor asked.
“About 6 minutes.”
Dr. Foster asked a few more questions and gave some instructions, then replaced the walkie-talkie and went back to his clipboard. “Get ready for a possible MI,” he said to one of the nurses.
Exactly six minutes later, an ambulance pulled up. Two EMTs, wearing black jackets that read “Rescue Squad” in bright yellow letters, wheeled a gurney into the ER. Two others walked on either side of the stretcher. One of them held a computer printout. He put it down on the counter in front of Dr. Foster, who took one look at it and said, “Oh, yeah. Bed 2. Now!”
His words caused a flurry of activity. In seconds, the patient lay in Bed 2 with an IV stuck in his arm and two EMTs, two nurses, and Dr. Foster hovering over him. Dr. Foster leaned over the patient’s pillow. He yelled, “Mr. Montelli, I’m going to be honest with you. It looks like you’re having a heart attack.”
Two of the nurses, Joan and Monica, sat in plush office chairs and chatted as they filled out patient charts.
“I have this recipe I’ve been dying to try,” said Joan.
“What’s it called?” Monica asked.
I heard Dr. Foster ask Mr. Montelli, “Are you feeling better, or does your chest still hurt?”
Joan said, “Chicken with Linguini and Pesto.”
“Mmmm. Sounds good,” Monica answered.
“Problem is, I don’t know what to do about the pesto.”
Mr. Montelli answered, “It still hurts.”
“Oh, you can make it yourself. It’s easy,” Monica replied. “First you need some garlic and fresh basil…”
Joan said, “Wait, let me write this down.” She peeled a Post-it note from the pad near her left hand.
Dr. Foster said, “Okay. We’ll try and make you more comfortable.”
Monica said, “There’s nothing to write down. You put them in the food processor with some olive oil and blend. Then add some pine nuts. Nothing to it.”
“I want a chest X-ray STAT ,” Dr. Foster barked.
Carla, the receptionist, was speaking with a woman who had just arrived in the waiting area. “Oh, yes, Mrs. Montelli. He’s in Bed 2. I‘ll take you back there.”
Joan joked, “You haven’t seen me in the kitchen.”
“Really. It’s easy.”
Mrs. Montelli said shakily, “I was driving right behind the ambulance.”
Carla led her to her husband’s side. Mrs. Montelli set her purse down on the chair by the bed and watched while Dr. Foster and the nurses worked. The X-ray technician walked in, wheeling a large machine. He positioned it over Mr. Montelli’s chest and yelled, “X-ray!” Mrs. Montelli, Dr. Foster, and the nurses hastily cleared the area. The X-ray man took a few steps back, then pressed a button on the tripwire connected to the instrument. A loud buzzing sound issued from the machine. When it was over, the X-ray man rolled the instrument toward Radiology, and Dr. Foster and the nurses resumed their positions. At some point Mrs. Montelli took her husband’s hand.
Twenty minutes later, Monica prepared to leave. She patted Joan on the shoulder. “Well, I’m off.”
Joan waved. “Enjoy.”
“Let me know how the chicken turns out,” Monica reminded her.
“I don’t know about this pesto, sweetie.”
“Trust me. Nothing simpler.” Monica was Italian. She slung her tote bag over one shoulder and walked out of the ER, away from Bed 2.
