Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Thirty-Four: Crashing

•thirty-four•

Beatrix

"He's out," Rick informs me. "Unconscious the whole way back. I tried to get him not to go, because Beth said his leg would need to heal, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"That's okay," I nod. I can't be mad over him wanting to help me. "I'll fix it. Bring him inside, please. Lay him down on a table in the kitchen. I'll be there after I get some supplies."

"The kitchen?" Rick raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, Rick, the kitchen," I roll my eyes. "I need him on a metal table, and do you know where they have those?"

"In the kitchen," he answers. "We'll be there."

I turn on my heel and head to my trailer. When I get in there, I put on a pair of scrubs and leave Daryl's shirt on one of the beds. I grab a few packs of sterile gloves, drapes, gowns, masks, a scrub cap, and all of the other things I'll need for surgery. Just sutures aren't going to help him; he needs to have surgery to repair the damaged muscle before the damage is irreversible.

"Shoot," I mutter to myself, carrying everything into the hotel. My hands are full, but I see Beth walking my way. "Beth! I need a favor: take this stuff to the kitchen. You can scrub in if you want, just hurry up and get it in there. I'll be right there."

"Okay," she nods and takes all of the things out of my hands without asking questions, and I'm forever grateful for that.

I quickly jog back to the trailer to grab some Betadine and 100% alcohol. I have to sterilize the area. There's no way I'm letting Daryl go into septic shock like Dale did. I have to get meds to keep him under too. This is almost too much for me to handle. I have to think of everything, and it's basically impossible to think of everything. That's why there's supposed to be a surgical team. That's why there's supposed to be a head surgeon; there's supposed to be scrub nurses; there's supposed to be assisting surgeons and residents and interns; and that's why there's supposed to be an anesthesiologist. It isn't supposed to be one surgeon with seven other people that don't have the slightest clue what they're doing,

But that's how it is now, and I have to work with what I've got. Complaining and sulking will get me nowhere, so I have suck it up, grab my things, and go to the kitchen and fix Daryl. I have to make him my top priority.

"All right, everybody," I say, laying everything down on a table beside of the one Daryl is on. "I'm going to need Hershel, Otis, Maggie, and Carl. Beth, go get them, please. Rick, you need to pour one of the bottles of alcohol on the other metal table to sterilize it. Don't touch it after. Merle, I need you to Help me get his shirt and pants off."

Nobody asks questions, and everyone does what I ask of them. I'm grateful for that. After Merle and I get Daryl's clothes off, I quickly throw a blanket over him to cover up his scars. I know he wouldn't want anybody to see them. Merle raises his eyebrow at me, and I nod. I know he's asking if that's what he though it was.

Beth shows back up with the people that I requested, and Rick is just getting done with the table. I look around the room for a box of hair nets, and I see them over beside of the sink. I grab the box and bring it back to Beth. She takes one and passes the box onto the next person. Nobody resists, not even Merle. I tie my hair up so that I can easily get my scrub cap on.

"Hershel, can you get a pair of gloves and start an IV?" I ask as I tie my cap. He nods, and I turn to Rick. "Can you run out to my trailer and get the shorter IV pole?"

"Of course," he nods and walks out of the room. I'm taking charge and working with what I have.

I have to intubate, but I don't want to keep him under longer than I have to, so I'll wait a little while before doing that. Beth could do it while I'm scrubbing in, but honestly I wouldn't let her. I mean, I taught her how to in the skills lab, and I know that she can do it, but this is Daryl. I have to take care of him and make sure he gets the best of the best, and that's me.