He reached out a hand to touch his wife’s brow and found her clammy. “Mel,” he said softly. Maybe there were too many blankets on her.
Emma made her demands known a little louder, but Mel still didn’t stir. “Mel,” he said more loudly, giving her shoulder a little shake. She didn’t wake. “Mel,” he said. Nothing.
Jack felt something squeeze his heart and hit his gut like a punch. He pulled back the covers and under his wife was a large, spreading pool of blood.
“Brie!” he screamed. “God! Brie!”
He picked up the phone and called John at home. Before the phone rang through Brie was in the doorway with David on her hip. She saw the blood, her sister-in-law motionless, and she ran to put David into the safety of his crib.
Susan Stone answered the phone.
“Susan, Mel’s hemorrhaging! She’s unconscious!”
“Oh, Jesus. Start massaging her uterus, like you saw John doing after delivery. Press down from the top, cup your other hand just above the pubic bone to support the uterus. Stay with me now.” Then without putting down the phone, he heard her pick up the other line and in just seconds she was asking for emergency airlift transport. “Jack,” she said, “give me your coordinates.”
A man who’d built his own house knew every detail, and he rattled off his latitude and longitude. Phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, he said, “Help me, Susan! Blood’s coming! What can I do?”
But she was repeating the location information into a second phone and responding to some questions. A moment later she was back on the line with Jack. “We’re so damn lucky,” she said. “John had an emergency and was airlifted to Redding a couple of hours ago—the helicopter is nearby, en route back to Eureka, and they’re diverting to you. Jack, are you massaging?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Does she have a pulse?”
He put his fingers to her neck. Blood from his fingertips left a garish streak on her neck. “Yeah, it’s weak. Soft.”
“You’ll have helicopter transport in less than five minutes. Are you alone?”
“Brie’s here,” he said, kneading Mel’s lower belly.
“She needs Pitocin. Methergine. Where’s Mel’s bag?”
“Here,” Jack said. “Right here.”
“Thank God. Show Brie how to massage. Jack, I need you to draw a syringe of Pitocin. Jack? You there?”
“Jesus,” he muttered. At that moment Brie ran into the room. “Brie. Massage her uterus like this,” he said, showing her. “Damn.” He tried to shake the fear out of his head. “I have to give her something,” he said. “Susan?” he said into the phone.
“I’ll walk you through it. Find the vial of Pitocin and a syringe. We’re going to give her Pitocin first. Her blood pressure has never been high, so we’ll follow with Methergine. She’s bleeding from the uterus and it needs to contract.”
“Susan,” Jack said into the phone as he watched Brie squeezing Mel’s lower abdomen. “Blood’s coming. Clots.”
“I know, Jack. Right now, get the drugs.”
He dug around in Mel’s bag and found what he was looking for. “Ready,” he said. With the phone cradled against his ear he followed her precise directions, drew the Pitocin into the syringe first. “I don’t know if I’ll find a vein…”
“You’re going to inject in the muscle, Jack. Just roll her a bit to the side—”
“I know,” he said. “I know where. I’ve had plenty of shots…”
“Pull back on the syringe to check for blood return,” Susan said. “Don’t waste time. The paramedics will have more of what we need. She’ll need a few doses.”
“Done,” he said.
“Now the Methergine,” she said, walking him through it. “Time is short here. Once the paramedics get there, they can open a line and Pit her. Keep this phone line open in case you need me—do what I told you, Jack.”
“I’m doing it,” he said.
“Check the uterus. Can you tell if it’s firming up a little?”
He brushed his sister’s hands out of the way and resumed the massage. “I don’t know. Maybe a little. Yeah, a little… But blood’s coming. More clots.”
“I know. Just keep massaging. You’re doing great.”
He moved away and, on instinct, Brie took over. Jack dug through Mel’s bag again, looking for more Pitocin or Methergine. “Susan, there isn’t any more… We used everything she had!”