Infection Runs Deep

CHAPTER EIGHT: PATIENT ZERO

I woke up late and very sore the next morning, my arms aching with the lactic acid build up. I never realized how strong you had to be to shoot. Since I didn't have to go into the clinic until noon, I tried to take advantage of the time to sleep in. Unfortunately my doctor body was wired for early mornings and late nights.

When I returned to the clinic, there was only one patient. His chart sat on the nurses' station, waiting for me to make a diagnosis.

James Jackson

Male, Age 6

Approx. 45 lbs.

No known allergies.

Symptoms: fever, rash, chills, cough, respiratory distress

BP: 135/72

HR: 96

O2 sats: 92

Strep, Flu A, Flu B tests recommended

"Has James been seen at all?" I asked.

"I took his vitals earlier, but other than that, no. He and his mom are in there," she said, gesturing to the door. "They're part of a military family. His dad--George--is still stationed overseas, so his mom--Emily--is bit frantic."

"Thanks for the heads up. I'm used to some crazy family members, but it doesn't get much easier when kids are involved."

She nodded grimly. "It never does."

I knocked twice on the door, pausing a moment before I opened it. "James and Mrs. Jackson?"

Emily Jackson stood up, leaving her bedside vigil. "Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Dr. Hunter and I'm going to take a look at James to see what's wrong. Can you tell me about some of his symptoms?"

"He's been coughing a lot. Really heavy coughs, like wheezing." She glanced back at James.

"Anything else?" I asked gently.

She sniffled, nodding. "He has a bad rash on his arms and back and a fever. Do you have any idea what this is? He's never been this sick before?"

"I'm going to take a look at him and see if he has any more symptoms. Then, I'll run some tests and hopefully we can figure out what's making this little guy sick." I walked over to James's bed, his mom trailing behind me. "Hey, buddy. My name's Dr. Hunter and I'm going to help you feel better, okay? Can you sit up for me? Perfect."

I helped James sit up and retook his vital signs, comparing with the earlier tests. Still bad. I grabbed some nitrile gloves from the counter next to the examination table and slid them on. The familiar snap made me think of my hospital back home. How much I missed everyone and everything.

I examined the rash on his arms and back. "Was the rash this bad earlier? Has it gotten any better or worse?"

Mrs. Jackson inhaled sharply. "It's a lot worse." Her voice trembled. "It's so much redder and there's new marks."

I took the stethoscope off of my neck. "I'm going to listen to your heart and your lungs so that way I can help you feel better." I listened to the four quadrants of the heart, but heard no irregularities. His heart rate was a bit high, but not uncommon in children his age. "Okay, now I want you to take as big of a breath as you can. Ready? In, and out."

I repeated my breath rhythm as I listened to his lungs. My heart dropped a bit. His lungs sounded awful. I could hear the fluid move with his breath. The only lung sound worse than this that I had heard was with a patient with cystic fibrosis.