Pool_2

portal to the hallways of O.R. rooms, the staging area was, at this point, empty. Neither Dr. Fischbein nor Fischbein's patient were present, although Fischbein's office was just across the street, about 3 minutes in an all out run. There was a girl here, right now, and she had no pulse. There was no feeling at all in any of her fingers of that right arm, her dominant side. That was way more than enough to act. "She needs her arms for her crutches" a crying mother offered the doctor, a plea to him to be his best. It could just as well have been "save my baby" or "I'll trade my life for hers." He'd heard this sort of supplication many times before. It never diminished in impact, though. "I'll do my best.. but let me tell you... I must tell you .. you really have to know certain things." He quickly told a petrified mother about the possible loss of function and even the very real risk that her child could suffer loss of the actual arm as a father trying wildly to bolster his own resolve had to sit down with his head between his knees, muttering "Just do what you have to, doc. Just do what you have to." "Let's move." Macaluso was pushing the stretcher with apparently no help as only a single nurse arrived and appeared to be vacillating as to what to do. Macaluso coaxed her. "Come'on. Steer. Grab the other end. " He was now faced with three statues. The first unresponsive nurse, a second nurse who just arrived behaving equally torn, and a smiling Melissa Tawnwy who declared that "this case" was "Here!" pointing to the bottom of her add on list triumphantly. AS Macaluso muttered a confused, "What?", Tawney went on, "Dr. Fischbein does not yield his slot! I told you!" "Call him now! Tell him we have a pulseless extremity... five dead fingers... no time, no time for this, call him, please!" "You have to call him." "No. You do. Get him on the phone, I'll talk!"