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195 42 ~ Emily I gave up on Orion and stepped back into the E.R. I doubted that Nan believed a word of my explanation. I walked slowly back towards the chairs until I noticed the crush of people in blue scrubs in the second row. Then I ran. Two men were lifting Pippa onto a stretcher. A gray-haired woman held a stethoscope to Pippa’s chest, a thin nurse held a black mask over her mouth and nose with one hand, pulling her jaw forward to open her airway, and squeezing the Ambu bag with the other. They all wore rubber gloves. “Take off those gloves,” I yelled. “She’s allergic to latex. She’s in anaphylaxis.” The thin nurse squeezing the Ambu bag turned to me. “What?” I pulled the woman’s gloved hands away from Pippa’s face. “Latex allergy. You’re making it worse. Take off the gloves and give her Epi.” “Let’s go.” The orderly at the foot of the stretcher pushed past me through the row. “Look at her right ankle.” I was screaming now, running after the stretcher. “Cut off the monitor strap. And she’s pregnant.” “We’ll take good care of your friend.” The skinny nurse shoved past me. “I’m a nurse,” I pleaded. “Let me help.” “Wait here.” She peeled the latex gloves from her hands, threw them on the floor, and ran to catch up with the stretcher as it pushed through the double doors. I stood alone in the row of chairs, their metal arms linked together like one of my father’s picket lines. This was my fault. I had wanted to help, but I made a horrible mistake. ...


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MARC Record
Launched on MUSE
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