Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 03 - When the Carny Comes to Town Read Online Free PDF Page A

to the third floor.  When he gets out of surgery the doctor will want to talk to you.”  She pointed toward the elevator and added, “Walk right when you get off.  You’ll see a room called surgery waiting area.”
    Ramona and I trailed behind Aunt Madge, who knows the hospital as well as she knows every other building in town.  There was no one else in the waiting room, so I helped myself to coffee and sat to one side of Ramona.  Aunt Madge was on her other side and had a hand on Ramona’s knee as she sobbed softly into her handkerchief.  We all looked up as a tall man in scrubs and a paper hospital hat walked in.
    He sat sideways on the arm of a large chair so he could face all of us.  “The head injury could have been a lot worse.  If I hadn’t been visiting a couple old friends in the hospital ER when they brought him in we would have lost valuable time.  I had the exact skills he needed.”
    I’m not usually keen on people who toot their own horn quite that loudly, but in this case I was thrilled. 
    “Exactly what is wrong with him?” Aunt Madge asked.
    “He has a fractured skull…”
    Ramona sobbed harder.
    “…which is not as bad as it sounds,” he continued, and picked up a small piece of paper and pencil from the table with the coffee and quickly sketched a skull. 
    I shivered, remembering a real one I’d seen last November.
    “It’s not a deep fracture, but it did cause swelling, and no injury to the skull can be taken lightly.”  He drew a tiny line from just below the crown and down an inch.  “Judging from the size, I’d guess he was hit with something a couple inches wide.  Not good, but it could have been much worse.”  He pointed to a spot on the drawing.  “This is where I drilled a very tiny hole to insert the catheter…”
    Aunt Madge grabbed a nearby trash can and shoved it at Ramona in time for her to throw up in it.  The doctor walked out and came back a few seconds later with a wad of damp paper towels.
    Aunt Madge was already patting her on the back and I was holding her hand, so he didn’t say anything, just handed the towels to Aunt Madge, who gave Ramona one to wipe her mouth and placed the others on the back of her neck.
    While Aunt Madge helped Ramona I looked at the doctor’s name badge.  Jacob Goldstein looked about my age, but lines at the corner of his eyes made me think more like mid-thirties.  He gave me a small nod and glanced at his watch.
    “I’m so sorry,” Ramona said, sitting up. 
    She looked more or less done, so I moved the waste basket and its smelly contents a few feet away from us. 
    “He’s someone you care about,” the doctor said quietly.  He adopted a more brisk tone as he went back to his drawing, which he had stuck in the pocket of his scrubs.  “I’m really not that concerned about the head injury.  Twenty-five years ago we had poorer quality imaging and couldn’t be as precise when we worked on the brain or skull.  They’ll watch him closely, probably administer some steroids, which also reduce swelling.  He should recover fine.”
    He leaned against a chair.  “He has at least two crushed vertebrae, one cervical, one thoracic.  They’ll be evaluating him carefully to be sure there is no pressure on nerves along the spinal cord.  Someone else will talk to you more about that.” 
    I racked my brain.  If cervical was neck area and lumbar was lower spine, thoracic must be in the middle.
    “So, he fell?”  Aunt Madge asked.
    Dr. Goldstein shrugged.  “That would be my assumption for the back injuries.  If I had to guess I’d say down a flight of steps.”
    “But,” I was groping, “you don’t think that’s how he hurt his head?”
    “Anything is possible,” he said, “but I did my neurosurgery residence in Camden and saw enough skulls hit with beer bottles to think it looked familiar.”  He stood.  “I’m on call in Newark this afternoon.  I was just down here with my kids for the