by Barbara Ebel
Annabel stroked her hair and hunched over the phone. A pathological euphoria swept over her and she contained a giggle. He might not be available to text back right away, but she responded.
You did take a picture, didn’t you?
Nope. Sorry about that.
Caleb put two Styrofoam cups down with steaming black coffee and rolled out a chair. “It’s late in the afternoon for this, but I’m offering some to you in case you want to ruin your sleep tonight and study like me.”
“Is that your agenda?”
He frowned. “I may use the coffee to keep alert for a movie instead. God knows, after today, I deserve it.” He nodded his head toward her phone. “You seem chipper.”
“Another student and I may be getting a dog.”
“One of those four-legged things that need to be walked, and fed, and brushed, and taken to the vet? And jump all over you with muddy paws, and jump into your bed at night just when you’ve gotten to sleep, and bring in ticks and fleas? Besides the fact that they go through worse terrible twos than a little human being because they pull stuffing out of pillows, yank toilet paper out of the dispenser, and eat your sump pump?”
He leaned back with assurance. “And unless you get yourself a trained security dog, he or she will lick the very palm of an intruder breaking into your apartment or house. He’ll soil your car with dog hair that will become a permanent fixture to the upholstery and it’ll bark like a spoiled child when you pull through a drive-through bank window because it somehow knows they keep biscuits behind the counter.”
Annabel’s eyes grew with disbelief. “It can be that bad? Is there anything else you want to add to that?”
“It’s worse than that,” he said forcing a scowl that he didn’t mean.
“Hmm. Maybe my whole idea is a bit premature.”
“Are you kidding? Don’t deprive yourself. There’s nothing like a dog.”
CHAPTER 15
Dr. Harvey stopped in the obstetric hallway and tapped Emmett on the shoulder. “Have you seen Melba Fox?”
“Right in there. Since Bonnie Barker was temporarily transferred, she’s putting a few of her things out of sight. The patient’s boyfriend was just here too, and he frantically left for the ICU.”
“I suppose he’s another unhappy camper,” Ling said.
“He should be.” The attending poked his head in the door. “Ms. Fox, may I talk to you?”
Melba strolled over. She nervously rotated her bracelets on her wrist. “I hope Bonnie Barker returns to her same room.”
“We do too. Obviously, discharging her tomorrow is out of the question. I understand you may have given her an overdose of narcotics this afternoon.”
Melba guessed she would be facing this type of confrontation. Since she learned of Bonnie’s respiratory depression, emergent treatment, and transfer, she’d been shaking in her shoes.
“I followed orders, Dr. Harvey. Reading certain doctors or resident’s handwriting can be a big problem for nurses.”
Ling put her hand on her hip and seethed.
“However,” Melba continued, “I read Dr. Watson’s order as most likely being Motrin. In retrospect, it was damn cryptic to make out. Fortunate for me at the time, Dr. Tilson was nearby and I asked her what it said. She said, ‘Morphine 200 mgs.’ Which is what I gave. I feel so terrible about this, I’m almost in tears. I should know better than to trust the input of a medical student.”
Ling slid her hand off her hip and relaxed just a bit. At least the accusation against her had taken a little turn. Most of the heat for the situation had been turned to Annabel.
Roosevelt worked at tucking the bottom of his shirt into his trousers for the umpteenth time that day. He narrowed his eyes.
Emmett listened intently, fiddling with the supply boxes on purpose. In his opinion, Annabel Tilson came to Bonnie Barker’s aid immediately when he reached out and grabbed her. She rendered aid efficiently at the time and he believed she was more professional in two days than what he saw of Ling Watson all the weeks and months she came and went from obstetrics at the University Hospital.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Emmet said, “but the medication log book is right here on the cart.”
Dr. Harvey liked the large man with the tattoos on his forearm. He nodded his approval for Emmett to grab it.
Roosevelt’s gaze froze upon reading the order. “Dr. Watson, this is atrocious, and indecipherable. What did you think? By only writing an ‘m’ and an ‘o’ legibly, then someone reading it was given the liberty to fill in the rest themselves?”
Ling bit her lip. She didn’t sweat when she worked out, but now beads of perspiration formed under her armpits.
Dr. Harvey looked up. “And I suppose our medical student needs a scolding too.”
Worried, Emmett backed up. Annabel didn’t deserve what was coming to her.
-----
Tony had left the hospital for a few hours to grab lunch and run errands. He’d taken another day off from his job as a coach, so he tried to fit in a few personal tasks while Bonnie began snoozing off to sleep. Otherwise, he stayed in her room like they were bounded by a history of forty years’ worth of wedding anniversaries … which wasn’t the case at all.
When he came back, bad news hit him worse than a dismal season for the soccer team he coached. He wanted to kick himself for leaving.
He stopped first at the newborn nursery. Dr. Thomas noticed him at the window swinging his head back and forth like he was humming a tune to baby Samantha. The pediatrician stepped outside and asked, “Are you Samantha’s father?”
Tony nodded. “How can you tell?” He put on a wide smile and laughed.
“She’s a doll baby like most infants. I planned on going over to see you and your wife soon because I must tell you some important news.”
“We’re not married, but go ahead.
Dr. Thomas rubbed above his lip and chose his words carefully. “We discovered a problem with your baby, which may end up causing lax joints, poor muscle tone, and poorer motor skills than other children her age. It affects bones; they may easily fracture.”
Tony looked down at his sneakers while trying to grasp the pediatrician’s words. He knew a few things about kids who couldn’t compete in sports, even about a bone disease he once heard about.
“It’s called osteogenesis imperfecta.”
Tony gripped his hand as hard as he could. No, no, no, he thought. “How come? How did she get it?”
“I’m sorry. It is a genetic disease.”
“Does her mother know yet?”
“No. Would you like to break it to her and I come by later or tomorrow and answer both your questions?”
“That may be best. She suffered with a postpartum hemorrhage; I’d better dish out the news in drips and drabs the way I see fit, according to the way she responds and handles it.”
“It sounds like you know best. Why don’t you call me when you’re both ready for the medical facts; when you’re ready to hear more?”
“Thank you,” Tony said. Disheartened, he headed to Bonnie’s room, where he found it empty as a discarded soda can.
-----
At the nurses’ station, Tony learned of Bonnie’s transfer to the ICU. “Because she’s on a ventilator,” he was told. Upstairs, he was lucky with the visiting hours and went straight into the intensive care unit where he found Annabel and Caleb sat at the end of the desk.
“Where is she? I came back to the hospital to find two catastrophic events with the two most important people in the world. Don’t you people believe in phone calls or text messages?”
“Dr. Tilson and I are treating your girlfriend right now,” Caleb said, “which is our number one priority. Dr. Watson will be calling you any minute.”
Annabel realized the young man said “two catastrophic events,” so she ventured saying, “Dr. Thomas must have told you about Samantha. He is an excellent pediatrician and she is in skilled hands. I went over and held her before.
She’s the sweetest thing.”
“I hope so. I mean, I think so,” Tony said, focusing on Annabel. He took a deep breath. “This is a lot to process.”
“Both of them are going to be fine. Bonnie is in the room straight ahead. She was given too much pain medicine and Dr. Gash and I are slowly reversing those affects.”
“Somebody made a mistake?”
“Basically, that is what happened,” Annabel admitted.
“I’d better go see her.” He slid away and, inside the room, pulled a chair as close to her as possible.
“He was more tolerant than I would have been,” Caleb said when Tony stepped away.
“He’s a dedicated father already,” Annabel said. “I sure wish the two of them would get their act together.”
-----
Bonnie Barker was in some kind of a dream. Or was it? A euphoric feeling swam around inside her head and her body felt heavy as a load of concrete. She hated whatever was going on with her throat, as if it was jammed up with something.
Her eyelids were possibly slammed shut with industrial tape, she thought, because she couldn’t budge them open. She was damn tired, but why? The last thing she remembered was being in her labor and delivery room, the bed semi-inclined, as she became overwhelmingly tired. Now, however, she lay flat and the mattress seemed different.
Since she came into this hospital, dreadful events had befallen her. In her prenatal clinic visits and in her overall understanding of childbirth, never did she learn about excessive post-delivery bleeding or what had happened to her. Certainly a woman could bleed a bit during delivery, but nothing like what had transpired after her delivery. And then the doctors-in-training inserted their whole hand inside her and on top of her and massaged like that was going to stop the flow. How barbaric!
On top of that, there was something they were keeping from her about her baby. They were “testing” Samantha, but they still didn’t divulge a word. They must have information by now. They were hiding something, and why were they so jittery when she held her own baby and breast fed her? It was as if the nurse from the nursery was afraid she would break her own newborn!
Over the course of a few more minutes, Bonnie seemed a little more lucid. She heard a droning noise like a machine, cyclical in nature, and became more aware of her chest rising and falling. Then, for sure, fingers slipped into the palm of her hand. Human touch; warm and comforting. Then she heard a female voice. That medical student, Annabel Tilson.
“I popped in to check if she’s stirred yet,” Annabel said to Tony, who sat at Bonnie’s bedside. “Feel free to talk to her. We’ll let her sleep overnight, but I assure you, she’s not deeply sleeping like she was before.”
Tony nodded and Annabel left.
So Tony was next to her, Bonnie thought, as she felt his fingers rub hers. Why did he continue to be around so much? After she found out about her pregnancy, she saw him the least. Over time, however, as the girth of her abdomen grew, he came across as being more interested and spent more time with her.
She had dated Tony for half a year before her pregnancy. Nothing special, yet nothing too boring either. When she found herself accidentally pregnant, abortion was not even a consideration. She wanted kids eventually anyway. Why not just go ahead with it? She was independent, very bright, and ran a daycare center since her high school graduation. She handled the business aspect of it but, in essence, she would be able to mind her own child while she worked. It made for a decent plan.
Now that she thought about Tony, she wondered. When he stopped coming around so much in her first trimester, wasn’t it her who had pushed him away? He coached kids for a living and he never once gave her grief because she had erred with her birth control. One day, he even said, “Hey, Bonnie, isn’t it about time we got married?”
To which she had spoken hastily, but believed what she said. “That’s what people used to do in the old days because they had to … save face in public and get married because the woman was pregnant. Being pregnant and unmarried doesn’t matter anymore. We don’t need to become a married couple.”
Tony appeared unhappy about her remark and yet he never brought it up again. That was his style, however, to accept another person’s wants and desires. He never asked again or persisted about things that mattered to him.
Tony inhaled and noisily exhaled over many seconds. “I sure hate to see you this way,” he said softly, leaning over their hands. “They goofed up your pain medicine and that is the reason they transferred you here and why the machine is helping you to breathe. You had your own troubles before, but now it’s their fault. I won’t leave you. When you are awake, you can always tell me to buzz off.” He chuckled and said, “Which is what you pretty much did months ago.”
He rested his left elbow on the sheet. Bonnie listened to every word and hoped he would continue to keep her company. Plus, she wanted to hear more.
“They told me bad news today, though. Our daughter has a genetic disease that makes her bones brittle. It comes with other problems too. If our relationship stays the same, it will be that much harder for us and Samantha. She deserves the both of us together. You may not love me, but I’m sure smitten with you. Ever since I met you the night you were wearing the powdered sugar from the beignet you were eating. That date was a setup, remember? The four of us met for dinner at that New Orleans style restaurant and we both realized we loved the same music and the same courses like geography and art and we both hated Mexican food and over-sized cars.”
The words sank in as Bonnie listened. Hearing about her daughter’s illness saddened her very core; she had been correct to worry. And yet this man in his twenties showed remarkable maturity. She had also read him wrong. Terribly wrong. In her whole lifetime, she might not ever meet a man as steadfast, sincere, dedicated, and responsible as him. And what had she done? Assumed he only went through the “motions” of a distraught unmarried father and that he had pretended to want more in a relationship with her and their baby.
Now her heart warmed. He cared. He really cared about her and baby Sam. Samantha … an ill little girl that he could easily have little to do with if he wanted, especially since she had pushed him aside.
She couldn’t wait to wake up, pull him close to her, and tell him they were overdue to get married. After all, she wanted to tell him that she needed a buddy to eat beignets with and that he would be the best dad in the world to Samantha.
-----
Annabel and Caleb entered the lounge hoping the team would soon discuss their patients and that the night call team would soon take over. They both secretly wished to put the last ten hours on the obstetric ward behind them.
Dr. Harvey was still there wearing a scowl on his face. Annabel realized he missed all his afternoon office hours. That would leave him a group of unhappy patients and a rescheduling nightmare. Being an attending affiliated with a teaching hospital as well as managing private patients, she thought, must take courage and dedication. Playing double jeopardy may have occasional rewards but, on the whole, must be fraught with stress. That would be an enlightening research project, she thought; comparing the number of heart attacks of university attendings with private practice doctors. She bet some group would dump a lot of money into that one.
“Dr. Tilson!”
Annabel startled as Dr. Harvey thumped his fist on the table, prompting her to sit before him. Caleb circled wide, headed to the couch where Ling sat cross-legged.
Annabel sensed jitters in her stomach. Dr. Harvey was not his usual self that patients loved. Actually, all afternoon, he was going downhill. Why did he seem angry at her? She had been in the unit with Dr. Gash. Earlier, she had even been instrumental in getting Bonnie Barker the help which she needed. She also completed a work-up on her new patient, Amy Wagner, a flawless, healthy obstetric patient for an induction, who posed no problems since her admission. Roosevelt splayed his hand on the tabletop as if to keep from thumping it again.
She clutched her hands on her l
ap and waited.
“The main principle of a doctor’s Hippocratic Oath is to ‘do no harm.’ Ms. Barker almost died of a morphine overdose when she should have received a simple 200 mg tablet of Motrin. I understand you read Dr. Watson’s pain order as a long-lasting narcotic and instructed the nurse, Melba Fox, to give it.”
The accusation struck her in the gut and her stomach rumbled from fear. “No, sir. I actually questioned her interpretation when she said Dr. Watson’s handwriting looked like morphine. I told her that 200 mgs seemed too high for it to be morphine. But she said I didn’t know any better. If I may paraphrase, she said something like many patients on the obstetric floor have a history of taking drugs and it was not an uncommon prescription for those who have developed a tolerance.”
“Let me get this straight. We have here an RN’s word against a medical student. One versus the other. What kind of a rotation am I staffing here? One where I must act like a detective and dole out polygraph tests?!”
He rose suddenly. “You take off for the day. It’s that time anyway. We can see our patients without you before handing them over to the night team. Be back in the morning and reconsider the accusation you’ve made.”
Annabel stood. In all her rotations, she’d never been so humiliated. Her word was never doubted like this before. She caught a sly upturn of Ling’s mouth while she grabbed her things. She stepped out of the room. Her stomach churned, but worse than that, she wanted to call it quits.
CHAPTER 16
Annabel’s heart pounded from a mixture of emotions: anger, unsureness, and sadness. Anger at wrongly implicating her in Bonnie Barker’s overdose, uncertainty whether this incident would negatively impact her grade or further status on the rotation, and sadness for both her young patients who encountered obstetric complications and for herself because her luck ran out to be working with such a dysfunctional team.