absently, her attention on assessing the patient. She gently shook his shoulder. “Sir, can you open your eyes?”
The man complied and gave her a faint smile. His face was grayish in color, and he was sweating heavily. He looked to be about average height, but was at least thirty or forty pounds overweight. She rummaged through her canvas bag and pulled out the blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope. “How long have you been having chest pain?” she asked as she wrapped the cuff around the man’s arm.
“A little last night.” His voice seemed weak and his breathing shallow. “But it’s bothered me quite a lot today.”
She finished taking his blood pressure and then said to Ben, “Hand me that case.” When he did, she opened it and removed two pads. “Sir, I’m going to check your heart rhythm,” she explained as she started to unbutton the man’s shirt.
“Wait a minute!” snapped the younger man. “We want a doctor, not a nurse!” He reached out and grabbed her wrist.
His tone and inflection struck Leslie as haughty and she bristled. Impatiently, she shook him off. “Well, I’m what you’ve got right now. If you’ll help instead of getting in the way, perhaps we can get him to a doctor!”
Ben shouldered his way past the younger man and helped pull back the patient’s shirt. He said, “Look, Justin, Mrs. Carpenter is the only health-care provider within a seventy-mile radius. She has a lot of experience. I assure you, she can handle it.”
Both men watched as Leslie slapped one pad on the patient’s chest and the other on his left side before connecting wires directly into an opening in the unit. She activated the combination electrocardiogram and automated defibrillator and watched the screen for about a minute. She looked up at Ben and said, “We need to go.” Although her words were calm, her eyes communicated urgency.
Ben held her gaze briefly then nodded. Absurdly, she felt a wave of satisfaction at his declaration of confidence and quick response to her instructions. He actually meant what he’d said to the younger man and wasn’t merely trying to placate him. Then she shook off the feeling—why did she care what Ben Murphy thought?
Ben jumped into the driver’s seat, and the younger man moved to join him in the front. As they pulled out of the compound, Ben made belated introductions. “Leslie, this is Bill Cooper and his son, Justin. I picked them up earlier at Amboseli Preserve to fly to Kilimanjaro. But before we got to the airstrip, Bill complained of chest pain, and then he blacked out for a minute.” He was pushing the Jeep as quickly as possible down the dusty, rough road. “Bill and Justin, this is Leslie Carpenter.”
The older man opened his eyes, which were light brown and a little watery and red rimmed. “Nice to meet you, Leslie.” His voice wavered somewhat, and Leslie glanced at the heart monitor again.
“Mr. Cooper, do you have a history of heart disease?”
“Yes. I had a heart attack about five years ago—”
“My father has had a couple of heart attacks.” Justin interrupted his father, turning to face the occupants in the rear seat and watching Leslie’s actions like a hawk. “He had an angioplasty two years ago by the best cardiologist in Seattle. He stopped smoking and has been fine since.” His tone made it sound as if it was her fault that his father was having chest pain—and that she was little better than dust because she wasn’t a doctor. She took a deep breath and worked hard at holding her temper, electing to ignore him.
“Justin, I can give my own history.” Mr. Cooper waved his hand in the direction of his son, perhaps trying to calm him. “He’s right. I had an angioplasty with a stent. They told me I didn’t need surgery. Just stop smoking...lose weight...exercise more.” Despite his obvious discomfort, he managed a weak grin. “I stopped smoking.”
Leslie couldn’t help but like Bill Cooper. She patted his arm in a
The man complied and gave her a faint smile. His face was grayish in color, and he was sweating heavily. He looked to be about average height, but was at least thirty or forty pounds overweight. She rummaged through her canvas bag and pulled out the blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope. “How long have you been having chest pain?” she asked as she wrapped the cuff around the man’s arm.
“A little last night.” His voice seemed weak and his breathing shallow. “But it’s bothered me quite a lot today.”
She finished taking his blood pressure and then said to Ben, “Hand me that case.” When he did, she opened it and removed two pads. “Sir, I’m going to check your heart rhythm,” she explained as she started to unbutton the man’s shirt.
“Wait a minute!” snapped the younger man. “We want a doctor, not a nurse!” He reached out and grabbed her wrist.
His tone and inflection struck Leslie as haughty and she bristled. Impatiently, she shook him off. “Well, I’m what you’ve got right now. If you’ll help instead of getting in the way, perhaps we can get him to a doctor!”
Ben shouldered his way past the younger man and helped pull back the patient’s shirt. He said, “Look, Justin, Mrs. Carpenter is the only health-care provider within a seventy-mile radius. She has a lot of experience. I assure you, she can handle it.”
Both men watched as Leslie slapped one pad on the patient’s chest and the other on his left side before connecting wires directly into an opening in the unit. She activated the combination electrocardiogram and automated defibrillator and watched the screen for about a minute. She looked up at Ben and said, “We need to go.” Although her words were calm, her eyes communicated urgency.
Ben held her gaze briefly then nodded. Absurdly, she felt a wave of satisfaction at his declaration of confidence and quick response to her instructions. He actually meant what he’d said to the younger man and wasn’t merely trying to placate him. Then she shook off the feeling—why did she care what Ben Murphy thought?
Ben jumped into the driver’s seat, and the younger man moved to join him in the front. As they pulled out of the compound, Ben made belated introductions. “Leslie, this is Bill Cooper and his son, Justin. I picked them up earlier at Amboseli Preserve to fly to Kilimanjaro. But before we got to the airstrip, Bill complained of chest pain, and then he blacked out for a minute.” He was pushing the Jeep as quickly as possible down the dusty, rough road. “Bill and Justin, this is Leslie Carpenter.”
The older man opened his eyes, which were light brown and a little watery and red rimmed. “Nice to meet you, Leslie.” His voice wavered somewhat, and Leslie glanced at the heart monitor again.
“Mr. Cooper, do you have a history of heart disease?”
“Yes. I had a heart attack about five years ago—”
“My father has had a couple of heart attacks.” Justin interrupted his father, turning to face the occupants in the rear seat and watching Leslie’s actions like a hawk. “He had an angioplasty two years ago by the best cardiologist in Seattle. He stopped smoking and has been fine since.” His tone made it sound as if it was her fault that his father was having chest pain—and that she was little better than dust because she wasn’t a doctor. She took a deep breath and worked hard at holding her temper, electing to ignore him.
“Justin, I can give my own history.” Mr. Cooper waved his hand in the direction of his son, perhaps trying to calm him. “He’s right. I had an angioplasty with a stent. They told me I didn’t need surgery. Just stop smoking...lose weight...exercise more.” Despite his obvious discomfort, he managed a weak grin. “I stopped smoking.”
Leslie couldn’t help but like Bill Cooper. She patted his arm in a
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