#shitty week + listening to Lux Aurumque by Eric Whitacre = this

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Honor Walk (LU in Healthcare)

Wild paused from cleaning equipment when his pager buzzed. Grabbing the work phone, he read the text and squinted at it a moment.

"What is it?" one of his coworkers asked before their own phone buzzed.

"Honor walk," Wild said softly. "But the unit... isn't that the STICU?"

"Yeah, it is."

Pocketing the phone, Wild threw away the wipe he'd been using. "I'm gonna go."

His coworker watched him curiously. "STICU is a long walk from here. You know the person?"

"It's an honor walk, isn't that reason enough?" Wild replied. "Besides, it's not the patient... I just figure support's needed."

XXX

The cabin was still dark as Sky lit the candles. He had only just gotten home from work, and though he would have to go to bed soon, he knew what the start of the day would bring. He'd been one of the few people who'd had a chance to talk to Four over the last few days, after all.

It was a cold December morning. The cabin had a chill to it, bitter and damp and piercing. The darkness did little to help, and he refused to turn on the lights and shock his system.

One candle, then two. Two weeks into a season of penitence and preparation. Two weeks left before a feast of hope and joy. But, for now, the darkness held a choke hold on the world, blanketing it in a dull ache that was held at bay by the blazing light of two little burning wicks.

And this morning they were in honor of something more than that as well.

Sky sat on his knees on the floor, his face cast in the shadows of the dancing lights. Bowing his head, he closed his eyes and prayed. He prayed for the soul to rest in peace. He prayed for the family to find healing.

And he prayed for Four.

XXX

It had been a long three days.

Day one had been the admission. Nineteen-year-old female involved in a motor vehicle crash. Unrestrained. Skull fracture, subdural hematoma. Neurosurgery had done what they could. It had been a struggle the entire shift to maintain a good ICP, to ensure that the bleeding didn't restart. She'd been so labile, her blood pressure had been all over the place. Pressors on, pressors off, antihypertensives on, antihypertensives off, crystalloid fluids, and so, so many blood products.

After ten agonizing hours of standing in the room unable to leave the bedside, asking for people to bring him things as the situation changed on a minute by minute basis, Four had thought she was starting to stabilize.

Day two had been the decline. She'd had a seizure overnight, and had another one at shift change. The team had decided to pause her sedation to get a neuro evaluation on her. She spent eight hours without any kind of medication that would make her sleepy or altered in any way while being intubated, having a probe in her brain to measure pressure readings, and part of her skull removed for swelling, and she hadn't even flinched.

Four knew what that meant. But the family didn't. And so they'd had a meeting.

Day three had been the decision. Aside from the brain death, her only other injuries had been a wrist fracture and a femur fracture. Her other organs were essentially, miraculously, intact, and her license had indicated her wishes in that regard. Coordinations and preparations had to be made. The family had to be given time. Four stood just outside of the room as her parents, siblings, uncles, aunts, grandparents, and cousins filed in little by little. Whispered words of love to her and to each other.

It had all been so sudden. They'd had so little time to process it.

He was so damn tired.

He moved carefully, reverently, as he cleaned her up. Her parents were still in the room, crying silently in the corner. He transferred the little computer brick that had all the patient's vital signs to his portable monitor. He had emergency drugs ready in case she coded. Daphnes was ready to maintain her airway and move the ventilator as they walked - Wind had been assigned another patient for the day, a mercy on Daphnes' part but clearly frustrating to the young student, who had stated he didn't need to be coddled. Four didn't have the emotional energy to feel much sympathy for either party at the moment.

When everything was in order, Four and the rest of the team, a tech and RT, started to head out with the patient, moving her bed along. Her parents walked behind them. Everyone in the surgical trauma ICU lined the walls, pausing for a moment as they passed, honoring the family, the patient, and what was about to happen.

She was an organ donor.

When they exited the unit, the hallway leading to the elevator was packed. Four maintained his composure as best he could, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Just as they reached the elevator, he caught sight of a familiar scarred face, and his eyes immediately locked on to see Wild watching him solemnly, hands clasped in front of him respectfully. His friend gave the smallest of smiles and a little nod of support.

Four bit his lip, hastily looking away, though not before giving a thankful smile in return. Tears burned in his eyes, but he held it together as much as possible.

When they finally made it to the OR, he handed care off to Malon, who put a hand on his shoulder, her gentle concern evident in her eyes. Four reached up and took her hand in his, his grip tight. They stood there a moment, sharing strength, and then he let go, leaving the patient behind for the last time.