“Stay with me, Cody!” a familiar male voice urged him from far in the distance as he regained consciousness.
His chest was tight and burned as if on fire. Where was he? With each jolt, a sharp pain pierced through his rib cage. The rattling of metal and voices around him calling out medical orders grew louder. He opened his eyes to bright neon lights and water-stained ceiling tiles.
He blinked, then took in his surroundings. Judging by the people walking alongside him, dressed in scrubs and wearing stethoscopes around their necks, and the ceiling tiles zipping past above him, he assumed he was on a stretcher in a hospital. Not good. Cody swiped his hand across his face.
The nurse beside him repositioned the nasal cannula under his nose. “Can you breathe all right, Dr. Walker?”
Cody inhaled, then hissed through his clenched teeth as another sharp pain shot through his chest. His heart was racing, and he could hear the blood rushing past his ears with every heartbeat. He blinked twice to focus his vision. “As expected. Thank you.”
“Welcome back among the living, Cody,” the familiar voice greeted him.
Cody lifted his head, then clenched his jaw as another jolt of pain shot through his chest. “Scott. What…” He lifted his arm and found an IV.
“Relax, buddy. You’re at the Emory ER. You’ve had a heart attack and sailed down the steps at your clinic. From what I hear from the paramedics, you’ve been in cardiac arrest for a good minute. Thanks to your clinical staff, you’re still with us, but I suspect you have a couple of broken ribs and maybe a concussion from the fall. We’ll take some X-rays and maybe do a CT to check on all that once we get you settled.”
Cody groaned. That explained the excruciating pain in his chest and head every time he moved or tried to take a deep breath. He closed his eyes and focused on being still. He knew he was in excellent hands. Cody had met Scott back in med school in Savannah. Scott, a true adrenaline junkie, specialized in emergency medicine, whereas he found his calling in primary care. Somehow, both their paths led them to Atlanta.
“Which room?” the nurse called out to another behind the nurses’ station.
The other nurse turned and checked the board. “Put him in five.”
“Hey, Cody, try not to die on me again. I’ll check on you once they get you settled in your room,” Scott said, then grabbed a chart and disappeared to see another patient.
The ride through the halls of the ER to his assigned room went much smoother, and he was thankful for that. He hoped he would have a moment of peace to regroup, but he wasn’t so lucky. Between the nurses switching out his EKG monitor, lab techs drawing close to a pint of blood, and X-ray taking images of his chest and head, he surrendered to the controlled chaos that surrounded him.
What seemed like hours later, his hands finally stopped shaking once the adrenaline wore off. His nausea also subsided after the nurse injected an antiemetic and pain reliever into his IV and left to tend to her other patients. Cody was finally alone, but he couldn’t focus on anything. His brain was restless, yet his body was weak and exhausted. Thinking hurt his head, so he let his mind wander.
As he stared at the wall in front of him and counted nail holes for the tenth time, he noticed the stench of sanitizer and antiseptic cleaner. His clinic smelled a little like that, but not to this extent. At least he knew the place was clean, or at least he hoped so.
Every so often, his nurse rushed into his room to check on his vital signs. “How are you feeling, Dr. Walker?”
“Like I’m ready to get out of here,” he said. The bed was uncomfortable, and he was still sore all over, despite the pain medication.
With the noticeable growl of his stomach, he realized he hadn’t eaten since he had the two glazed donuts a pharmaceutical rep had brought for breakfast. “Sorry about that, nurse,” he apologized. Cody glanced at the clock. It was already noon. No wonder he was starving. “I need to get some lunch.”
The nurse checked Cody’s chart. “Sorry, Dr. Walker. It says that you can’t eat yet.”
“Why not? Let me see that chart,” he demanded. Cody didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he was irritated, still had a splitting headache, and didn’t have the patience to wait. He needed to eat.
Cody tried to lean forward on his elevated bed, reaching his arm toward her and his chart, but the pain in his chest was too intense. He had no choice but to sit back and drop his arm onto the bed again. He glanced at the monitor perched on a rolling stand next to him.
“Dr. Walker, you need to settle down…” the nurse tried to calm him. “Your heart rate…”
“Hey, what’s going on?” Scott asked with a frown as he entered the room. “You weren’t this grouchy when they brought you in.”
“Well, someone’s gotta give me some lunch. I’m starving,” he grumbled.
Scott shook his head. “No can do. We have to wait for the cardiologist.” He glanced over the chart. “Most of your test results came back, and it looks like we have to put in a stent, but we’ll let the cardiologist decide.”
“A stent? I don’t need a stinking stent! I’m too young.” Cody could feel blood rush to his head. “What I need is to get out of here and…”
“… and die?” Scott finished for him. His friend’s facial expression turned stern. “Because that’s what’s going to happen to you. You’ll die of another heart attack. But I don’t have to tell you that, or do I?”
“I’m a physician and can make my own informed decisions.”
“And you’re also my patient, Cody. Not only do you have blockages in your arteries, but your A1C and glucose tests were also substantially elevated. I hate to tell you this, but you’re officially a diabetic. What happened to the athletic hotshot med student who wanted to save the world?”
Cody closed his eyes. Shame coursed through his body. He took a deep breath and winced. His friend was right. He had let himself go over the years. “I bit off more than I could chew, Scott. My patient load has been insane after the staff cuts at our clinic, so the lucky ones that still had a job had to pick up the slack.” He shook his head. “I’m putting in eighty hours a week. And forget about exercising. My commute these days is an hour one way with all this city traffic, so by the time I get home, I’m beat. My go-to meals are frozen pizza, deliveries, or I grab a burger on the way home. Then I go to bed and start my day all over again. My life has become a real live Groundhog Day.”
“You can’t do this to yourself, Cody. This is your body telling you to make some significant changes, or else…” He paused. “It’s slowly shutting down. Next time you might not be so lucky.” Scott set Cody’s chart on the rolling tray. “Dr. Garner should be here soon to talk to you about the stent. My unsolicited advice as your doctor and your friend is to use this downtime and make some tough decisions. I wouldn’t want to lose you for something preventable like this,” he said and left.
As much as Cody hated to admit it, Scott was right. He often watched his own patients’ health, and with that their quality of life, deteriorate from chronic disease before his own eyes. Often, there wasn’t anything else he could do if his patients weren’t compliant with their treatment. Many of them died a slow death.
Cody closed his eyes. He had to make some major changes. His life depended on it. Maybe it was time to leave this city life behind. He would give up a lucrative paycheck, but all the money in the world meant nothing if he couldn’t enjoy a penny of it—especially not from beyond the pearly gates.
Maybe it was time to pack up his luxury apartment in the suburbs of Atlanta and head back home to Savannah. He’d have to take care of himself and get well first. Only then could he live long enough to save the world again—on a smaller scale this time around.
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