bedroom, and she follows Kelly into the room. It is quiet, eerily so. And then Grandpa starts to speak.
“Look, son. I’m not going to lie. This isn’t good,” he explains to John, who is obviously distraught at what he is seeing. Grandpa’s voice is so grave and hushed like he’s delivering news to a terminal patient. There is a broken sob that comes from John. Hannah’s heart aches for this man that she does not know very well.
“Yes, sir,” John replies. “What can I do?” His voice is desperate.
Grandpa doesn’t immediately answer but takes a deep, ragged breath and sighs. Hannah can hear the clink and clanking of medical instruments on the metal cart Grandpa has moved into her room. She doesn’t step any farther into the room because she doesn’t want to trip over anything important that could be hooked up to Derek. Reagan and Grandpa had brought quite a few medical items into her room yesterday, and now it is unfamiliar territory to her.
“He’s lost too much blood. His heartbeat has slowed considerably. We were able to close the wound and luckily Reagan found that small piece of metal in it. These old eyes of mine would’ve missed that. Then he could’ve got an infection. So that’s one good bit of news I suppose. But he is fevering. It’s still low-grade.”
Hannah can hear her grandfather moving about the room. There is the pumping air sound that the blood pressure cuff makes, then the air being expelled again.
“His blood pressure is dangerously low. Another bad sign, I’m sorry to say. He regained consciousness last night for about an hour, and we were able to get a little water into him. I’ve got an IV line in. We’re giving him antibiotics and fluids, but it’s not doing much. I wish I could tell you better news.”
“Is he... is he gonna die, Dr. McClane?” John whispers raggedly as if by saying it in softer tones will make it not come true.
“Son, I just don’t know. I think if we could do a blood transfusion, then maybe... I don’t even know then. I can’t see any of the tell-tale signs of infection. Kelly told me you guys did your best to clean him up, so he may not have an actual infection,” Grandpa says. Hannah can feel the pain in his voice.
“Hey! Why’s he shaking like that?” John questions with panic.
“It’s the blood loss. Probably a combination of shock... trauma to his body. Plus, his body temperature is falling. I think he’s fevering, but again it’s not too high that I’m worried as much about that.”
“Can you do a transfusion? Can you even do that... here?” John asks with skepticism.
“Yes, I can do the transfusion. But we’d have to have his blood type and someone here at the farm would have to match. It’s not that simple. Even if there was someone here who matches, sometimes allergic reactions can occur,” Grandpa explains. There’s a lot of doubt in his voice. “We don’t have any way of knowing what his blood type is.”
“Yeah, we do. It’s on his dog tags. It’s on all our dog tags, doctor,” Kelly speaks up. “Here, look.”
Kelly is still at her side. As he steps into the room, she can hear the jingling of his necklace as he pulls it out of his shirt.
“Well, I’ll be, it sure is,” Grandpa says. “Let me get a look at that,”
“Where’s Derek’s?” John asks from the bed area.
“Oh, we had to remove all his clothing. Too much risk of contaminates. My wife took the clothing to be laundered, and I think Reagan put his personals in a box over there in the corner,” Grandpa answers. “Ok, so Kelly you’re a Type AB negative.”
“Found it, Derek’s B positive, doctor,” John calls from the corner. “And I’m... AB negative, too.”
“Hm, that’s not good. We’re gonna need an O donor or a B positive,” Grandpa tells everyone.
“Why can’t I donate? I’m his brother,” John asks with desperation.
“‘Cuz, genius, you’ll kill him,” Reagan says from Hannah’s side. She’s as
“Look, son. I’m not going to lie. This isn’t good,” he explains to John, who is obviously distraught at what he is seeing. Grandpa’s voice is so grave and hushed like he’s delivering news to a terminal patient. There is a broken sob that comes from John. Hannah’s heart aches for this man that she does not know very well.
“Yes, sir,” John replies. “What can I do?” His voice is desperate.
Grandpa doesn’t immediately answer but takes a deep, ragged breath and sighs. Hannah can hear the clink and clanking of medical instruments on the metal cart Grandpa has moved into her room. She doesn’t step any farther into the room because she doesn’t want to trip over anything important that could be hooked up to Derek. Reagan and Grandpa had brought quite a few medical items into her room yesterday, and now it is unfamiliar territory to her.
“He’s lost too much blood. His heartbeat has slowed considerably. We were able to close the wound and luckily Reagan found that small piece of metal in it. These old eyes of mine would’ve missed that. Then he could’ve got an infection. So that’s one good bit of news I suppose. But he is fevering. It’s still low-grade.”
Hannah can hear her grandfather moving about the room. There is the pumping air sound that the blood pressure cuff makes, then the air being expelled again.
“His blood pressure is dangerously low. Another bad sign, I’m sorry to say. He regained consciousness last night for about an hour, and we were able to get a little water into him. I’ve got an IV line in. We’re giving him antibiotics and fluids, but it’s not doing much. I wish I could tell you better news.”
“Is he... is he gonna die, Dr. McClane?” John whispers raggedly as if by saying it in softer tones will make it not come true.
“Son, I just don’t know. I think if we could do a blood transfusion, then maybe... I don’t even know then. I can’t see any of the tell-tale signs of infection. Kelly told me you guys did your best to clean him up, so he may not have an actual infection,” Grandpa says. Hannah can feel the pain in his voice.
“Hey! Why’s he shaking like that?” John questions with panic.
“It’s the blood loss. Probably a combination of shock... trauma to his body. Plus, his body temperature is falling. I think he’s fevering, but again it’s not too high that I’m worried as much about that.”
“Can you do a transfusion? Can you even do that... here?” John asks with skepticism.
“Yes, I can do the transfusion. But we’d have to have his blood type and someone here at the farm would have to match. It’s not that simple. Even if there was someone here who matches, sometimes allergic reactions can occur,” Grandpa explains. There’s a lot of doubt in his voice. “We don’t have any way of knowing what his blood type is.”
“Yeah, we do. It’s on his dog tags. It’s on all our dog tags, doctor,” Kelly speaks up. “Here, look.”
Kelly is still at her side. As he steps into the room, she can hear the jingling of his necklace as he pulls it out of his shirt.
“Well, I’ll be, it sure is,” Grandpa says. “Let me get a look at that,”
“Where’s Derek’s?” John asks from the bed area.
“Oh, we had to remove all his clothing. Too much risk of contaminates. My wife took the clothing to be laundered, and I think Reagan put his personals in a box over there in the corner,” Grandpa answers. “Ok, so Kelly you’re a Type AB negative.”
“Found it, Derek’s B positive, doctor,” John calls from the corner. “And I’m... AB negative, too.”
“Hm, that’s not good. We’re gonna need an O donor or a B positive,” Grandpa tells everyone.
“Why can’t I donate? I’m his brother,” John asks with desperation.
“‘Cuz, genius, you’ll kill him,” Reagan says from Hannah’s side. She’s as
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