The Island, Chapter 4 - Sex Stories

The Island, Chapter 4

... equal and she responded to pain by moving. Her right leg was a mess, with an open fracture that had been dressed with gauze, and a pale, cool foot below. “She’s got no pulse in that foot,” I said. “I bet the fracture has injured the artery. We need to straighten the leg and reduce the bone, and figure out some sort of traction.” We jury-rigged a system with a seat cushion, some cord, and a tree. When it was ready, I had Joelle pull the foot while I held the woman’s thigh. She groaned as the protruding bone slid back inside the wound. Suddenly blood began spurting from the opening, spraying Joelle’s torso. “Crap! She’s got an arterial laceration. It must have been compressed by the bone fragments. Find something useful in the med kit!” I yelled as I pulled apart the wound edges. More by luck than skill I found the bleeder, and Joelle handed me a hemostat and a suture to tie it off. Fortunately for our patient, it was only one branch of the lower leg arterial system, and she had regained a pulse in the foot with the leg straightened. We got our traction system attached and managed to catch our breath. Joelle was obviously upset, and at first I thought it was because she had been covered in blood. She surprised me, though, by bursting into tears and wailing, “I’m hopeless at this! I should have caught the pulseless foot! I might have cost that poor woman her leg!” With that she ran off into the trees that lined the beach. I chased after her, yelling her name, until I caught ...

... up to her near a small waterfall tumbling into an underlying pool of fresh water. Joelle was sitting on a rock, sobbing and hugging herself. I knelt next to her, murmuring comforting nonsense, and pulled her to me. She buried her face in my chest, crying uncontrollably. I just held her and rocked her, letting her wind down. When she had progressed to sniffles and hiccups. I sat across from her and held her shoulders in my hands. Looking into her tear-filled eyes I told her, “You need to quit beating up on yourself. You recognized she was sick; that’s half the battle. If you hadn’t called my attention to her, I wouldn’t have been able to help her. Remember, I’ve had trauma training and you haven’t. I’m supposed to be able to handle stuff like that. And I couldn’t have done it without your help.” She looked doubtful. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just have been so down lately, and all of this,” she gestured around her “has just pushed me over the edge. I know I’m good at what I do, but I feel like a failure. I never got into medical school like my parents wanted. I can’t get a decent date, I’m way behind my sister in starting a family, and now a may never get a chance.” I felt terrible for her. How could someone so terrific not know how special she was? “I know for a fact you could have gotten into medical school if it hadn’t been for your visa status. You told me that story yourself. I can’t explain your lack of dates. I think you are the perfect woman. You are smart, funny, ...