Chapter 211: Luck
"Heart rate spiking, over 130."
"Systolic pressure dropping fast, under 40."
"Things don't look good."
Lucas's pupils were starting to lose focus.
Hemorrhagic shock. His heart could stop at any moment.
Of all the times for my right hand to feel like it weighed a thousand pounds. I was panicking inside.
Wasn't my right hand supposed to be fine? Hadn't it recovered already?
All those months of rehab, all that basic training — so why was my right hand still giving out on me right now?
"Alfred, come here. Do exactly what I say." I forced myself to focus and pushed my right hand out of my mind for the moment. "First, apply pressure to stop the bleeding. Press your palm hard against the wound and control the active bleeding."
The Phoenix Blood Balm was starting to take effect. The bleeding was slowing down better than I'd expected.
Next was disinfection — flushing the area around the wounds with alcohol. Besides the gunshot wound on his back, Lucas had several other injuries that all needed to be treated to prevent infection.
After that came hemostasis — using hemostatic forceps to locate and clamp the ruptured blood vessels to stop the arterial bleeding completely.
Alfred couldn't do this part. It had to be me.
The forceps clamped onto the broken vessel with a steadiness I hadn't expected from myself.
Then came suturing — closing the muscle and skin to seal the wound. Again, only I could do this.
I told myself it was okay to go slow. Gradually, my right hand stopped twitching and trembling. The numbness and pins-and-needles sensation faded. My stitching got faster and faster. If you ignored the tears and cold sweat I couldn't hold back, I looked like any other surgeon.
Then came the pressure bandaging, followed by checking his breathing to rule out tension pneumothorax.
"Initial drainage of hemothorax. Respiratory compression slightly relieved."
"Heart rate coming down — 110 to 115."
"Blood pressure weakly rising. Patient is conscious."
"Mrs. Valeri," Alfred said, his voice shaking, "what about the bullet?"
"We can't remove it here. We need to transfer him as soon as possible — the bullet has to come out in a proper operating room." I answered calmly.
Trying to dig out the bullet here would trigger a fatal hemorrhage in seconds. And this ballroom wasn't a clean enough environment.
"Don't worry. The bleeding is under control for now. Lucas isn't going anywhere for the time being."
Lucas gently grabbed my hand. His lips moved like he was trying to say something, but nothing came out.
I dabbed a cotton ball in water and moistened his dry, cracked lips. And for a moment, I found myself thinking back to the first time I'd met him.
"Your face was covered in blood back then. You were so dirty I couldn't even make out what you looked like. I cleaned you up and put medicine on you — how was I supposed to remember your face?" I touched his cheek gently. "You were so silly. But I won't forget you again. Not this time."
Just then, Brian came rushing in. "Bella! Traffic's moving again — the ambulance is here!"
Lucas was taken to the hospital, where emergency surgery successfully removed the bullet. Two days and two nights later, he was moved from the ICU to a private suite. Two days after that, he was transferred to the recovery wing at the Platinum Haven Hotel to continue his recuperation.
The weather was getting warmer. I walked into his room in a light spring blouse, carrying a big bouquet of sunflowers in full bloom.
Lucas was lying face-down on the bed, head tilted, watching something on a tablet. Alfred had found him a TV show to pass the time.
The sunlight landed just right on the headboard, softening the cold, sharp lines of Lucas's usually pale face.
"You're here." He noticed me right away and reached to pause the show, but he moved too fast and knocked the tablet off the bed.
I watched the flash of annoyance cross his face and couldn't help laughing.
"What's so funny?" Lucas turned and stared at me, clearly put out.
I picked up the tablet, set it on the bedside table along with the flowers, and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.
"Nothing," I said.
The furrow between his brows smoothed out, but he wasn't satisfied. He pushed his lips forward in an obvious hint.
Someone knocked on the door. Roger poked his head in with an exaggerated look, reminding us, "This is a hospital room, not your bedroom."
"It's just a kiss. We're not doing anything." Lucas fired back without missing a beat. "You're not that old, Roger. Lighten up. Next time you go to the club, I'll send you a few extra guys."
Roger sputtered with indignation, his chest heaving. "I'm doing my rounds!"
A few minutes later, I walked Roger out of the room. "You saw for yourself," he said. "Recovery is going well. Lucas has the constitution of an ox — he should be out of here pretty soon."
I nodded with a smile.
Roger shook his head in wonder. "That bullet nearly hit his heart and lungs. If you hadn't stopped the hemorrhage back at the hotel when you did, he never would have made it to surgery."
"I got lucky," I said, and without thinking, I looked down at my right hand.
"Looks like it's all coming back to you, doesn't it?" Roger pushed his messy white hair back with one hand and slipped on his headband. He grinned. "Congratulations on your comeback. Anyone who tries to doubt you after this doesn't stand a chance."
I smiled and nodded.
My psychological block wasn't fully gone yet. But I had finally taken the most important step forward.
This time, I hadn't lost the person I couldn't afford to lose.
Back in the room, Lucas looked up at me eagerly. "How many more days do I have to lie like this?"
He paused, then said with a groan, "I feel like a turtle stuck on its back."
I laughed softly and rubbed his shoulders, working out the stiff muscles. "You have to stay face-down so the wound doesn't get compressed," I said, coaxing him gently. "Just a few more days."
Lucas looked at me and puckered his lips again.
Something in me went soft. I leaned down toward him. Just as I was about to reach his lips, the door swung open.
"Who is it now?" Lucas turned with a frown.
It was Gale, Brian, and Marcus.
Lucas managed a small smile. "Gale. Brian. Marcus."
Gale gave a blank nod. Brian offered a quiet, warm smile. Marcus pulled a face. "I don't hate you as much as I used to. But hearing you call me 'Marcus' still gets on my nerves."
Lucas glanced up at him. "You're not the only one it gets on."
Marcus immediately turned to me. "Bella, did you hear that? He's dropping the act — his true colors are showing!"
I took the vase and flowers toward the bathroom and stayed out of it.
After arranging the flowers, I came back out to hear Marcus saying to Lucas, "You said you'd protect Bella with your life. You did it. I can finally stand the sight of you."
I stopped in my tracks.
Brian glanced at me, then turned to Lucas and said seriously, "But next time, we hope you'll protect yourself too. If something happened to you, Bella would be devastated."
Lucas strained to turn his head, searching for me. I felt the urge to cry — and then I thought about how much he really did look like a turtle stuck on its back, and I laughed instead.
He reached out his hand. I walked over, set down the vase, and took it.
Our warm palms pressed together. He looked at me, his eyes steady and serious. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here with you."
I sniffled and nodded. "Okay."
Marcus shuddered. "I can't take it. That is way too sweet."
"You and Jacqueline are ten times worse than we are," I shot back.
Gale watched us joke around. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Bella, now that you're ready to get back in the operating room — we should pick a day soon and hold a formal gathering."
"An official announcement of the Miracle Surgeon's return."