“Dr. Daniels! His BP is dropping!” yelled, Dr. Harris the anesthesiologist.
Marianne pulled the overhead lamp closer.
“One moment! I can retrieve the bullet.” I clamped down on the bullet, removing it from the tissue in Jordan’s brain. “I got it!” I dropped the bullet into the surgical tin Pamela held.
I exhaled and smiled. “We did it!”
I glanced at the monitors. Jordan’s blood pressure stabilized. My small team of five surgery nurses and Dr. Harris shared in my joy.
“I’ll repair the damage. Then we can close.”
I stared into Jordan’s face. “You did well,” I stated through my blue mask.