R. A. Comunale M.D.

Clover: A Dr. Galen Novel


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      CLOVER

      A Dr. Galen Novel

      R.A. Comunale, M.D.

      MOUNTAIN LAKE PRESS

      MOUNTAIN LAKE PARK, MARYLAND

      Clover: A Dr. Galen Novel

      Copyright © 2011 R.A. Comunale

      All Rights Reserved

      Published in eBook format by Mountain Lake Press

      http://mountainlakepress.com

      Converted by http://www.eBookIt.com

      ISBN 13: 978-0-9846512-1-4

      Cover design by Studio 4 Squared

      ALSO BY R.A. COMUNALE

      Requiem for the Bone Man

      The Legend of Safehaven

      Berto’s World

      Dr. Galen’s Little Black Bag

      To our disabled veterans

      LEITMOTIF

      Her time drew near.

      The Bumble Bee Queen laid the special eggs that would become her successors. She flew on what would be her last journey.

      Her wings beat rapidly as they hovered over the clover field.

      The chill of impending frost was in the air but she was happy as only a Bumble Bee Queen could be.

      The young ones were safe.

      It was her duty.

      It was her legacy unto the generations...

      WHAT’S IN A…?

      “What’s your name, boy?”

      “My name is Galen, Robert Anthony Galen.”

      “Why are you here?”

      “I want to be a doctor like you.”

      “From now on, kid, your name is Dottore Berto.”

      “What’s your name, little brother?”

      “Bobby Edison. What’s your name, big brother?”

      “I’m Galen, Bob Galen.”

      “Well done, Edison.”

      “Likewise, Galen.”

      “Country Boy, what’s your name?”

      “David Allen Nash. What’s yours, City Boy?”

      “Galen. Bob Galen.”

      “Congratulations, Dr. Nash.”

      “Congratulations, Dr. Galen.”

      “June Ross, will you marry me?”

      The unspoken, “No, Bob Galen,” deafened his soul.

      “Nancy Seligman, will you marry me?”

      “Yes, Bob Edison.”

      “Lenora, your name will always be ‘Leni’ for me.”

      “Bob Galen, your special name in my heart is Tony.”

      “Will you marry me, Leni Jensen?”

      “Yes, Tony.”

      “Cathy, I don’t deserve a second chance at happiness.”

      “Bob Galen, Leni’s spirit wants me to call you Tony.”

      “Cathy Welton, will you marry me?”

      “Yes, Tony.”

      “Tony, I don’t feel well.”

      He knew its name: pancreatic cancer.

      “Don’t die, Cathy!”

      “Leni is calling me, Tony.”

      He knew their names: Despair and Loneliness.

      ¿Niños, cuáles son tus nombres?

      “Carmelita Hidalgo.”

      “Federico Hidalgo.”

      “Antonio Hidalgo.”

      “Tio Galen, will you come to live with us and Tia Nancy and Tio Edison?”

      “Yes, children, if your Tia and Tio will have me.”

      “Tio Galen?”

      “Yes, Antonio?”

      “What do we call our home?”

      “Safehaven”

      1. To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

      Death is simple.

      The heart stops beating.

      The River of Life ceases its flow through the miracle of the human body.

      We die.

      There is, however, another death, a living death, one which takes away our very being while the heart still beats.

      “Hidalgo, get your team together. We’ve got a C-5 cord injury on the way.”

      Jerry Fromm, the first-year resident, felt every bit as tired as the tall medical student who had worked with him for the past 12 hours in the emergency room. Now both seemed to shed the fatigue that had lain across their shoulders. They were needed.

      Tony Hidalgo hit the instant message button on his cell phone, and three signals went out simultaneously to the other members of his ER team: Julius Petrie, aka JP, roommate and friend; Sarah Knowlton, friend and lover, and Judy Hicks, friend to all and beloved of JP.

      This was a race against time, a battle of technology and teamwork against the second hand to save a life and prevent a living death.

      Tony heard the running footsteps just before his three colleagues appeared.

      He yelled out, “Neck injury, C-5!” and their running pace doubled.

      They were the new lords of creation, one month from graduation and the title of Doctor of Medicine. The initial tremors and pit-of-the-stomach queasiness at the beginning of their clinical rotations two years earlier now became a focused algorithm of emergency care that blocked sweaty palms and loose bladders.

      The team of five dashed to the special elevator and rode it to the roof heliport, their minds running through the protocols they were about to use to prevent their new patient from becoming permanently paralyzed.

      They heard the rapid whacka-whacka-whacka of the approaching Medevac helicopter’s rotors even before they opened the outside door. As soon as the pilot brought the chopper in for a gentle landing the team raced crouching across the pad to its side door. The whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of the slowing blades surged through them as they took the spinal-trauma cart holding the patient from the two EMTs aboard. Then they wheeled it to the trauma emergency enclosure on the rooftop.

      Top priority: Be sure the patient’s breathing and heart functions are stable. Soon the detailed stuff would follow, the painstakingly precise, step-by-step stabilization of the injured spine. But first they needed to perform more critical preparation.

      “Good, they’ve got the exoskeleton in the supply dock,” Petrie muttered, as he and Tony grabbed the grasshopper-shaped metal contraption from its container.

      Fromm rapidly programmed the stimulator units built into the device’s pads that would apply pressure to specific sites above and below the injury.

      Sarah and Judy prepared the injector dispensers with their life-sparing drugs.

      “How did this happen, Ted?” Tony asked