Snow Day, part 12
May. 10th, 2009 11:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanTrapper had made the incision, and was fussing with a primitive drill when Ernie got into the room that they were using as an operating theater. She paused a moment to settle her stomach. They had propped Stanley on his stomach, with his torso supported by a thick layer of blankets while his feet and hands trailed in pans of water. Trapper and Dr. Elliott were working at Stanley's head, while Terry passed instruments and Gary carefully worked on the frost-damaged extremities and renewed the hot water bottles that were bringing Stanley's core temperature back up to something reasonable, and Steve sat working the anesthesia.
Ernie made her way to Terry. "Where do you want me?"
"Here," Terry gave her the tray. "You pass the silverware while I work with Gary. It'll help if we can get his temperature stabilized."
"Right." Ernie took up her position. It was her first chance to get a good look at the damage, and she was appalled. Stanley's face was puffy with fluid and he had the ‘raccoon mask' of bruising that indicated serious cerebral hemorrhaging. Most of the back of his head was purple with subcutaneous bleeding as well, and past Trapper's shoulder she could see the jagged edges of a hole right through the bone. The x-rays on the light box weren't reassuring, except in that there was no sign of whatever had pierced the skull. The blood coming out was dark and viscous. Ernie guessed that Stanley could have been bleeding into the brain since last night and her heart sank. This was not good.
"Shit!" Trapper exclaimed, pulling away the drill as another fountain of blood started up. "Suction!"
"I've got it," Dr. Elliott said.
"John, wait," Ernie said, as Trapper tried to start the next burr before the blood was cleared away. "You're tired and you're rushing things and that's not going to help."
Trapper glared at her over his glasses, "He's short on time."
She made herself look calmly back. "Which is why he can't afford for you to make mistakes. Go more slowly, or let someone else handle the drill."
"I am more used to its quirks," Elliott pointed out.
Trapper made an impatient noise, but his basic pragmatism and honesty were stronger than his worry. "All right. I'll handle the suction." He handed the drill to Elliott. "Three sponges, Ernie."
They worked carefully. Elliott made a pattern of five burr holes, which Trapper connected with cuts so as to lift out a section of bone. Blood poured out, some of it bright arterial flow, and Ernie was helping Trapper try to find the source of the bleeding when she heard lots of voices outside the room. Terry went out, and returned almost immediately. "They're here!" She had a unit of blood in her hand and she came over to hook it to Stanley's IV.
"Who's here?" Ernie asked.
"I told Slocum to send up a neurosurgeon," Trapper said, "Clamp. I don't know which one."
"Would someone mind telling me what the hell is going on?" Carson Whittaker, the beautiful micro vascular surgeon who had so very nearly scandalized the entire hospital bureaucracy when it was discovered that she had gotten her medical school money by hooking, strode into the room, settling the green sterile gown into place and tucking her hair under a surgeon's cap. "That's Gonzo out there."
"And it's Stanley in here," Trapper said. "Get scrubbed. Did you bring your surgical kit?"
"The chopper pilot's got it in the next room, along with the rest of the blood." She spotted the sink and started scrubbing right away. "If someone wouldn't mind..."
"I'll get it." Gary volunteered, blushing under his mask as he went. Carson had that affect on young men, sometimes.
Ernie let herself breathe a little more easily. Carson would be just starting her shift this time of night, and far more alert than Trapper would. And more blood would make up for all of the stuff that Stanley was losing.
"So what did happen?" Carson asked as she scrubbed.
"I don't know," Trapper said. "Not exactly. We think they got caught by an avalanche last night. Gonzo got burned somehow, and Stanley took a hit in the head. They were trying to walk their way down to the cabin when Stanley passed out, and Gonzo tried to do a burr hole blind." So that was why Stanley had had that hole in his skull! Ernie shuddered. To do major surgery, on a friend, without being able to see, struck her as the worst kind of nightmare. Trapper went on. "We brought them here by chopper so I could go in and take some of the pressure off his brain. He was convulsing, and his pulse was all over the place."
"It's steadier now," Steve said. "And his blood pressure is starting to stabilize too."
"Well, that's good anyway," Carson said. "I take it you've already cracked open the skull for me."
"I didn't want to waste any more time than I had to. There's frostbite and hypothermia to complicate things." Trapper found held up a hand. "Hemostat."
"His temperature has been fluctuating between 93 and 100, but we've held steady at 97 for about four minutes," Terry said.
"Here's the surgical kit," Gary said, coming back inside. "It's in sealed bags, does that mean it's already sterile?"
"Yes," Ernie said. "Terry, could you take over for me while I get it all set up?"
"Not in these gloves."
"I'll stevedore," Dr. Elliott said, taking Ernie's position. "It'll give me a better view."
By the time Ernie had the surgical trays ready, Dr. Whittaker was ready to go in. Trapper ceded her the hot seat with a shudder of relief. Ernie caught the involuntary movement and nodded him to one side. "Trapper, why don't you go and see to Gonzo and then get some rest. Unless Dr. Whittaker needs you."
"Dr. Whittaker needs elbow room," that worthy said with absent concentration. "It's not like we can all reach through one two inch wide hole at the same time. Go on, Trapper. Gonzo sounded like he was hurting."
"If you're sure."
"You've already done the grunt work, let me do what I do best and don't worry about it. Stanley's a lot tougher than he thinks he is."
Trapper felt like he was being shoved aside, but he was too tired to argue, and now that he didn't actually have his hands full of Stanley's cerebrum, they were shaking. "All right." He went down to the other treatment room, where Mollie had gotten Gonzo out of the water and onto a treatment table, wrapped up in blankets. The chopper pilot was standing in a corner, watching uncertainly while the elderly nurse used a hypodermic to drain a blister before she slathered it with some kind of clear ointment.
Trapper watched for a minute too. "What is that, Mollie?"
"Aloe," she said. "We've had good luck with it."
Gonzo's head swung toward the sound of Trapper's voice. "Trapper?" he said at a pained pitch. "Can I have more percocet? I keep telling her I'm a doctor and I can subscribe it, but she won't give me any."
Trapper took a deep breath and sent out messengers for his wandering wits. "Uh... Umm. How much has he had?"
"The full dose," Mollie said. "But frostbite is pretty painful as it thaws. I didn't want to disturb you in the middle of surgery, though."
"I wouldn't have thanked you." Trapper tried to remember the limits on the drug, but couldn't make the details come clear. "Have you got a copy of the PDR?"
"In Doc's office." While she went to get it, Trapper looked over to the pilot. "Didn't Slocum send an ophthalmologist?"
"He said to tell you that there wasn't one readily available. It would have meant another thirty minutes." The pilot shrugged. "There's a big storm front moving in and I don't think I could have landed up here much later. Speaking of which, I've got to either fly out or start to tuck things down within the next ten minutes. I can stay," he warned, "but if the winds get real high, my bird is likely to get tossed around to the point of being pretty damn useless."
"Go on home," Trapper said. "I'd rather have the chopper in one piece in case we need it tomorrow."
The pilot left promptly, and Mollie came back with the PDR opened to the page on percocet. Trapper started to read, trying to calculate Gonzo's weight versus the maximum possible dose. "Another half a pill," he decided. "And then the last half once you've finished treating him so he can sleep." Just mentioning sleep was dangerous. Trapper tried to suppress a yawn and nearly cracked his jaw with the effort.
"I'll take care of it," Mollie said, retrieving the heavy volume and steering Trapper into a chair. "You just supervise."
"Right." Trapper said, letting his eyes close for a minute. "I'll do that."
***
Trapper curled himself tighter into his parka, trying to keep warm, but the wind was getting past canvas and sleeping bag and the parka wasn't much of a defense. He could hear it howling over the snores from Hawkeye's cot and the cursing from Duke's, and he wished that someone would crank the stove higher. Where was Ho-Jon? What was the point of sending a kid to college when he couldn't keep the tent warm? Only this wasn't the swamp, it was post-op, because he could hear some nurses talking about the patients. He tried to open his eyes, to find them and tell them that it was too cold in here for wounded men, but he couldn't seem to move. He listened helplessly.
"...the drainage should ease off in an hour or so. Keep an eye on his blood pressure though. With any luck he should start to come to any minute now."
"Come on, honey," it was Ernie's voice, and Trapper's dreams slipped on through time. "Come on. It's time to wake up for a little while."
Standing in the corridor of San Francisco Memorial, watching as Ernie and Stanley worked over Gonzo, administering oxygen and coaxing him back from propane gas poisoning, fretting because he would have to hold off on a delicate operation. Trapper waited for Gonzo to wake, but the tableau had gone still and distant, and the snow was coming down in hard rattling pellets on the tent roof over his head.
"He's going to be in a lot of pain," a voice pointed out. "Frostbite can be miserable when it first thaws. Why not let him sleep?"
"Because the EEG can't tell me what I need to know." That was Carson Whittaker. What was she doing in Korea? Maybe she could help the Peterson kid. Open your eyes, Trapper. Open your eyes.
"Come on, Stanley. Just open your eyes a little. I need to check the pupils."
"I've got to go mind the store," the strange voice said, "but if you need me, I'll be at the front counter doing paperwork."
"Thanks, Terry. We should be able to handle it from here," Carson said. "Trapper and Gonzo are both out like lights, anyway, so it's just Stanley we have to really watch."
I'm not sleeping, it's just that I sat down for a minute in the mess tent and I've forgotten how to open my eyes.
"Was that Slocum on the phone?" Ernie asked.
"Yes, and I gave him a piece of my mind. Do you know he shoved me onto that chopper without telling me that it was Stanley who was hurt? And I still don't know what the four of you were doing up here in the boondocks."
"Trapper came up to visit a forest ranger friend, and Gonzo and Stanley were to join him, but something went wrong and they disappeared for hours. Didn't anyone in the hospital tell you?
"I never got out of the parking lot. Arnold saw me getting out of my car and hustled me onto that chopper before I had a chance to argue. But I wish he'd told me it was Stanley. I would have been a little prepared that way. How did you get here?"
"I'd been in Sacramento, checking on a patient there who fit Gonzo's general description, and I thought I should come up." Ernie said. "I knew you and Gonzo had gone to school together, but I didn't realize that you and Stanley were friends."
"It's a lot more complicated than friends," Carson said. "When I first came, I thought he was cute and we dated. I still think he's cute, really, but the very qualities that make him attractive to me made it impossible for us to have had much more than that one-night stand. Stanley wants a wife who's going to give him 2.3 kids and a white picket fence to come home to. And my career cost me too damn much to give up for any man." She sighed. "And that came between us, too. Although Stanley tried awfully hard to ignore it."
"Ignore what?" Ernie asked.
"You mean Gonzo's finally learned to keep his mouth shut?" Carson sounded incredulous. "I paid for med school by working as a high cost prostitute."
It's a good thing Hot Lips isn't listening in on this, Trapper thought. She hates it when the nurses sit around and gossip.
"That's a hard way to pay the bills," Ernie said.
"It paid a lot per hour, and that meant I could spend more time on my studies. I didn't even think about dating after graduation until I met Stanley, and he was so sweet, so innocent in some ways, that I went like a ton of bricks. So we went out, and everything was lovely until he heard the truth about me."
"And when was that?"
"The next day. I never thought of what I had done as hurting anyone until then. He looked like he'd been punched in the gut. But he forgave me. He even proposed, about a week later, but by then I'd figured out that I wasn't the girl he needed."
"Stanley's good at forgiving people."
"He's a very generous man." Carson said, fond with memory.
"Really?" Ernie asked, her tone indicating more than mere kindness was in question.
"Really," Carson confirmed. "Let me put it this way, if Stanley the first is half the man Stanley the second is, then it's not really surprising that he spends all his time draped in blondes."
"I didn't think Stanley had that kind of ...well... experience."
"He doesn't. But there's a lot to be said for generosity."
Something clattered softly and the voices moved away from Trapper. "It's all right. We're right here. You'll be fine..." The reassurances blended into the dream of choppers and snow and Christmas carols bleating from the p.a. But after a time, Trapper heard the voices again.
"...better than I thought it would be."
"Stanley isn't sick very often," Ernie said. "And he works out. He runs, too, when the weather is good. I guess he's in pretty good health, generally speaking."
"And Gonzo usually bounces back pretty well from everything."
"Well," Ernie temporized. "I think it will depend on whether or not his eyes are all right. Although how he got burned in the middle of all this snow I don't understand."
"He looks to me like someone beat him up."
"No," Ernie said. "No, that he doesn't. But he did get a nice collection of bruises. I wonder if anyone's thought to check him for broken bones."
"Trapper would have done that, wouldn't he?"
"There wasn't time before he started operating on Stanley. And when he came out here he fell asleep almost straight away, Mollie said." Ernie sounded reluctant. "We could wake him up and ask him."
"Better yet, I'll ask Mollie," Carson said. "You keep an eye on them."
Carson's footfalls faded away, and Trapper started to slip away into the silence. As he reached the edge of deep sleep he heard Ernie distantly, saying, "I hate this part. Sitting and waiting. You'd all better be all right. Do you hear me? You're needed."
Ernie made her way to Terry. "Where do you want me?"
"Here," Terry gave her the tray. "You pass the silverware while I work with Gary. It'll help if we can get his temperature stabilized."
"Right." Ernie took up her position. It was her first chance to get a good look at the damage, and she was appalled. Stanley's face was puffy with fluid and he had the ‘raccoon mask' of bruising that indicated serious cerebral hemorrhaging. Most of the back of his head was purple with subcutaneous bleeding as well, and past Trapper's shoulder she could see the jagged edges of a hole right through the bone. The x-rays on the light box weren't reassuring, except in that there was no sign of whatever had pierced the skull. The blood coming out was dark and viscous. Ernie guessed that Stanley could have been bleeding into the brain since last night and her heart sank. This was not good.
"Shit!" Trapper exclaimed, pulling away the drill as another fountain of blood started up. "Suction!"
"I've got it," Dr. Elliott said.
"John, wait," Ernie said, as Trapper tried to start the next burr before the blood was cleared away. "You're tired and you're rushing things and that's not going to help."
Trapper glared at her over his glasses, "He's short on time."
She made herself look calmly back. "Which is why he can't afford for you to make mistakes. Go more slowly, or let someone else handle the drill."
"I am more used to its quirks," Elliott pointed out.
Trapper made an impatient noise, but his basic pragmatism and honesty were stronger than his worry. "All right. I'll handle the suction." He handed the drill to Elliott. "Three sponges, Ernie."
They worked carefully. Elliott made a pattern of five burr holes, which Trapper connected with cuts so as to lift out a section of bone. Blood poured out, some of it bright arterial flow, and Ernie was helping Trapper try to find the source of the bleeding when she heard lots of voices outside the room. Terry went out, and returned almost immediately. "They're here!" She had a unit of blood in her hand and she came over to hook it to Stanley's IV.
"Who's here?" Ernie asked.
"I told Slocum to send up a neurosurgeon," Trapper said, "Clamp. I don't know which one."
"Would someone mind telling me what the hell is going on?" Carson Whittaker, the beautiful micro vascular surgeon who had so very nearly scandalized the entire hospital bureaucracy when it was discovered that she had gotten her medical school money by hooking, strode into the room, settling the green sterile gown into place and tucking her hair under a surgeon's cap. "That's Gonzo out there."
"And it's Stanley in here," Trapper said. "Get scrubbed. Did you bring your surgical kit?"
"The chopper pilot's got it in the next room, along with the rest of the blood." She spotted the sink and started scrubbing right away. "If someone wouldn't mind..."
"I'll get it." Gary volunteered, blushing under his mask as he went. Carson had that affect on young men, sometimes.
Ernie let herself breathe a little more easily. Carson would be just starting her shift this time of night, and far more alert than Trapper would. And more blood would make up for all of the stuff that Stanley was losing.
"So what did happen?" Carson asked as she scrubbed.
"I don't know," Trapper said. "Not exactly. We think they got caught by an avalanche last night. Gonzo got burned somehow, and Stanley took a hit in the head. They were trying to walk their way down to the cabin when Stanley passed out, and Gonzo tried to do a burr hole blind." So that was why Stanley had had that hole in his skull! Ernie shuddered. To do major surgery, on a friend, without being able to see, struck her as the worst kind of nightmare. Trapper went on. "We brought them here by chopper so I could go in and take some of the pressure off his brain. He was convulsing, and his pulse was all over the place."
"It's steadier now," Steve said. "And his blood pressure is starting to stabilize too."
"Well, that's good anyway," Carson said. "I take it you've already cracked open the skull for me."
"I didn't want to waste any more time than I had to. There's frostbite and hypothermia to complicate things." Trapper found held up a hand. "Hemostat."
"His temperature has been fluctuating between 93 and 100, but we've held steady at 97 for about four minutes," Terry said.
"Here's the surgical kit," Gary said, coming back inside. "It's in sealed bags, does that mean it's already sterile?"
"Yes," Ernie said. "Terry, could you take over for me while I get it all set up?"
"Not in these gloves."
"I'll stevedore," Dr. Elliott said, taking Ernie's position. "It'll give me a better view."
By the time Ernie had the surgical trays ready, Dr. Whittaker was ready to go in. Trapper ceded her the hot seat with a shudder of relief. Ernie caught the involuntary movement and nodded him to one side. "Trapper, why don't you go and see to Gonzo and then get some rest. Unless Dr. Whittaker needs you."
"Dr. Whittaker needs elbow room," that worthy said with absent concentration. "It's not like we can all reach through one two inch wide hole at the same time. Go on, Trapper. Gonzo sounded like he was hurting."
"If you're sure."
"You've already done the grunt work, let me do what I do best and don't worry about it. Stanley's a lot tougher than he thinks he is."
Trapper felt like he was being shoved aside, but he was too tired to argue, and now that he didn't actually have his hands full of Stanley's cerebrum, they were shaking. "All right." He went down to the other treatment room, where Mollie had gotten Gonzo out of the water and onto a treatment table, wrapped up in blankets. The chopper pilot was standing in a corner, watching uncertainly while the elderly nurse used a hypodermic to drain a blister before she slathered it with some kind of clear ointment.
Trapper watched for a minute too. "What is that, Mollie?"
"Aloe," she said. "We've had good luck with it."
Gonzo's head swung toward the sound of Trapper's voice. "Trapper?" he said at a pained pitch. "Can I have more percocet? I keep telling her I'm a doctor and I can subscribe it, but she won't give me any."
Trapper took a deep breath and sent out messengers for his wandering wits. "Uh... Umm. How much has he had?"
"The full dose," Mollie said. "But frostbite is pretty painful as it thaws. I didn't want to disturb you in the middle of surgery, though."
"I wouldn't have thanked you." Trapper tried to remember the limits on the drug, but couldn't make the details come clear. "Have you got a copy of the PDR?"
"In Doc's office." While she went to get it, Trapper looked over to the pilot. "Didn't Slocum send an ophthalmologist?"
"He said to tell you that there wasn't one readily available. It would have meant another thirty minutes." The pilot shrugged. "There's a big storm front moving in and I don't think I could have landed up here much later. Speaking of which, I've got to either fly out or start to tuck things down within the next ten minutes. I can stay," he warned, "but if the winds get real high, my bird is likely to get tossed around to the point of being pretty damn useless."
"Go on home," Trapper said. "I'd rather have the chopper in one piece in case we need it tomorrow."
The pilot left promptly, and Mollie came back with the PDR opened to the page on percocet. Trapper started to read, trying to calculate Gonzo's weight versus the maximum possible dose. "Another half a pill," he decided. "And then the last half once you've finished treating him so he can sleep." Just mentioning sleep was dangerous. Trapper tried to suppress a yawn and nearly cracked his jaw with the effort.
"I'll take care of it," Mollie said, retrieving the heavy volume and steering Trapper into a chair. "You just supervise."
"Right." Trapper said, letting his eyes close for a minute. "I'll do that."
***
Trapper curled himself tighter into his parka, trying to keep warm, but the wind was getting past canvas and sleeping bag and the parka wasn't much of a defense. He could hear it howling over the snores from Hawkeye's cot and the cursing from Duke's, and he wished that someone would crank the stove higher. Where was Ho-Jon? What was the point of sending a kid to college when he couldn't keep the tent warm? Only this wasn't the swamp, it was post-op, because he could hear some nurses talking about the patients. He tried to open his eyes, to find them and tell them that it was too cold in here for wounded men, but he couldn't seem to move. He listened helplessly.
"...the drainage should ease off in an hour or so. Keep an eye on his blood pressure though. With any luck he should start to come to any minute now."
"Come on, honey," it was Ernie's voice, and Trapper's dreams slipped on through time. "Come on. It's time to wake up for a little while."
Standing in the corridor of San Francisco Memorial, watching as Ernie and Stanley worked over Gonzo, administering oxygen and coaxing him back from propane gas poisoning, fretting because he would have to hold off on a delicate operation. Trapper waited for Gonzo to wake, but the tableau had gone still and distant, and the snow was coming down in hard rattling pellets on the tent roof over his head.
"He's going to be in a lot of pain," a voice pointed out. "Frostbite can be miserable when it first thaws. Why not let him sleep?"
"Because the EEG can't tell me what I need to know." That was Carson Whittaker. What was she doing in Korea? Maybe she could help the Peterson kid. Open your eyes, Trapper. Open your eyes.
"Come on, Stanley. Just open your eyes a little. I need to check the pupils."
"I've got to go mind the store," the strange voice said, "but if you need me, I'll be at the front counter doing paperwork."
"Thanks, Terry. We should be able to handle it from here," Carson said. "Trapper and Gonzo are both out like lights, anyway, so it's just Stanley we have to really watch."
I'm not sleeping, it's just that I sat down for a minute in the mess tent and I've forgotten how to open my eyes.
"Was that Slocum on the phone?" Ernie asked.
"Yes, and I gave him a piece of my mind. Do you know he shoved me onto that chopper without telling me that it was Stanley who was hurt? And I still don't know what the four of you were doing up here in the boondocks."
"Trapper came up to visit a forest ranger friend, and Gonzo and Stanley were to join him, but something went wrong and they disappeared for hours. Didn't anyone in the hospital tell you?
"I never got out of the parking lot. Arnold saw me getting out of my car and hustled me onto that chopper before I had a chance to argue. But I wish he'd told me it was Stanley. I would have been a little prepared that way. How did you get here?"
"I'd been in Sacramento, checking on a patient there who fit Gonzo's general description, and I thought I should come up." Ernie said. "I knew you and Gonzo had gone to school together, but I didn't realize that you and Stanley were friends."
"It's a lot more complicated than friends," Carson said. "When I first came, I thought he was cute and we dated. I still think he's cute, really, but the very qualities that make him attractive to me made it impossible for us to have had much more than that one-night stand. Stanley wants a wife who's going to give him 2.3 kids and a white picket fence to come home to. And my career cost me too damn much to give up for any man." She sighed. "And that came between us, too. Although Stanley tried awfully hard to ignore it."
"Ignore what?" Ernie asked.
"You mean Gonzo's finally learned to keep his mouth shut?" Carson sounded incredulous. "I paid for med school by working as a high cost prostitute."
It's a good thing Hot Lips isn't listening in on this, Trapper thought. She hates it when the nurses sit around and gossip.
"That's a hard way to pay the bills," Ernie said.
"It paid a lot per hour, and that meant I could spend more time on my studies. I didn't even think about dating after graduation until I met Stanley, and he was so sweet, so innocent in some ways, that I went like a ton of bricks. So we went out, and everything was lovely until he heard the truth about me."
"And when was that?"
"The next day. I never thought of what I had done as hurting anyone until then. He looked like he'd been punched in the gut. But he forgave me. He even proposed, about a week later, but by then I'd figured out that I wasn't the girl he needed."
"Stanley's good at forgiving people."
"He's a very generous man." Carson said, fond with memory.
"Really?" Ernie asked, her tone indicating more than mere kindness was in question.
"Really," Carson confirmed. "Let me put it this way, if Stanley the first is half the man Stanley the second is, then it's not really surprising that he spends all his time draped in blondes."
"I didn't think Stanley had that kind of ...well... experience."
"He doesn't. But there's a lot to be said for generosity."
Something clattered softly and the voices moved away from Trapper. "It's all right. We're right here. You'll be fine..." The reassurances blended into the dream of choppers and snow and Christmas carols bleating from the p.a. But after a time, Trapper heard the voices again.
"...better than I thought it would be."
"Stanley isn't sick very often," Ernie said. "And he works out. He runs, too, when the weather is good. I guess he's in pretty good health, generally speaking."
"And Gonzo usually bounces back pretty well from everything."
"Well," Ernie temporized. "I think it will depend on whether or not his eyes are all right. Although how he got burned in the middle of all this snow I don't understand."
"He looks to me like someone beat him up."
"No," Ernie said. "No, that he doesn't. But he did get a nice collection of bruises. I wonder if anyone's thought to check him for broken bones."
"Trapper would have done that, wouldn't he?"
"There wasn't time before he started operating on Stanley. And when he came out here he fell asleep almost straight away, Mollie said." Ernie sounded reluctant. "We could wake him up and ask him."
"Better yet, I'll ask Mollie," Carson said. "You keep an eye on them."
Carson's footfalls faded away, and Trapper started to slip away into the silence. As he reached the edge of deep sleep he heard Ernie distantly, saying, "I hate this part. Sitting and waiting. You'd all better be all right. Do you hear me? You're needed."
