“The patient was in PEA arrest,” Sarah said, her voice steady but quiet. “He had exsanguinated. Compressions were ineffective because the tank was empty.
If I hadn’t occluded the aorta, he would have suffered irreversible brain death within three minutes.
Dr. Halloway was still two minutes out.”
“That is speculation,” the Legal Counsel interjected.
“The resident, Dr. Evans, was present.
You overruled him.”
Evans froze,” Sarah replied. “He admitted he didn’t know how to use the device. I did.”
“Where did you receive this training?” Caldwell asked, his tone skeptical.
“Because I don’t see it in your file here at Balboa.”
“I learned it in the Al Anbar province, Iraq.
2004,” Sarah said. “Under the supervision of Navy Commander Dr.
Ares. We didn’t have the fancy kit back then.
We used Foley catheters and guesswork.”
“But it worked,” Caldwell sighed, taking off his glasses.
“Miss Jenkins, we respect your past service. But this is a civilian hospital in San Diego, not a triage tent in a war zone. We have rules.
Those rules exist to protect patients.
You can’t just improvise. This is reckless endangerment.”
He paused, gathering his papers.
“We have no choice but to terminate your employment, effective immediately, and refer this case to the Board.”
Sarah looked down at her hands. She didn’t cry.
She didn’t beg.
She knew the rules. She knew she had broken them. But she also knew Sterling was alive.
That had to be enough.
“I understand,” she whispered. “Is there anything else you wish to say?” Caldwell asked, reaching for the termination paperwork.
Whirr.
