by Leah Shay
Sweet dreams. Yeah, right.
What was I going to do about my situation? I could not control my feelings for Jared Stern. Love speaks from the heart. Once that heart makes that choice, the mind, body, and soul succumb, and it has no alternative but to follow. The heart had ruled; it was out of my hands.
Chapter Four
I dialed work and told them I was not coming in tonight. Five minutes later Amanda, my nurse manager, called me. I had some reports to do for her, which I had forgotten to do. No wonder, with all that happened last night, they slipped my mind; and she needed them for the morning's management meeting. It would only take me a couple of hours to do, so I told her I would come in later tonight and the reports would be on her desk in the morning. I took a Motrin, set my alarm for eight PM, and went back to bed. I had just finished helping Nate with his homework when my phone chimed; I had a text.
Jared's text: Did I scare you off?
Yes, you did. I thought
I still had a headache, but it was tolerable. I took a shower, got dressed in some thick brown leggings, a long beige t-shirt, a colorful long yarn cardigan sweater by Dolce, and my brown-cuffed suede and shearling Jimmy Choo booties. The hospital was always cold, so I had to dress appropriately.
I tried to sneak into the office without being seen, but Marie saw me. She came knocking at the office door a minute later.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"Marie."
"Come in."
"Kyra, what are you doing here?"
"I have some reports to do for Amanda."
"Can you help us out?"
"I'm here for a couple of hours, Marie. What do you need me to do?"
"They announced a purple alert of twenty-eight. There are twenty-eight people in the ER who need beds. We all have six patients, which means each nurse will be going up to seven patients. Nobody is happy right now."
I know what it feels like to be swamped, even though it is unfair and unsafe. How can we provide effective patient care when we do not have the time to spend with our patients? On the other hand, those patients in the ER need beds and they need to be taken care of, so we would have to work with the situation. I couldn't leave my fellow nurses to fend for themselves in this mess.
"All right, Marie, but I'm out of here at five AM. I'll do the admissions. Can you get me some scrubs, a jacket, and some shoe covers?"
"Thanks, Kyra. The VIP has been asking for you."
"I'm not taking him."
"Can you do the pin care for me? I haven't had a chance to do it yet."
"Let me know when the patients get here. I'll do the admissions and assessments. The pin care — I don't think so. I'm not going in that room tonight."
"Please, Kyra," she begged.
"I'll think about it, Marie."
"Thank you, thank you, Kyra. You are the best."
"I said I'll think about it. That's not a yes."
She left the office happily to deliver the good news to the rest of the staff. I completed the reports in a little over an hour. I knew what Amanda wanted. I had previously gone over the surveys that were now committed to my memory. All I had to do was put them into report form. I placed the reports on Amanda's desk and went to the station for my scrubs, so I could change and get to work. I checked my text as I walked to the nurses station.
A voice got my attention. "Nice sweater, Kyra." It was Gabby and her mom.
"Thank you. How are you guys doing?"
"We are doing just fine," Mrs. Stern said. "I cannot thank the staff here enough for taking such good care of my son. He is very pleased with the staff."
"You are welcome."
"Have a good night," Mrs. Stern said.
"Goodnight."
I was outside the nurses station, caught up in a text my sister had sent me, when I heard shouting coming from Room 818, the room next to the nurses station. Then, a food tray flew out of the room and smashed into the wall. Amy, the nurse, came running out of the room.
"Call a gray alert!" I told Jackie, the secretary.
We had a violent patient and we need security immediately.
The female, announcer-controlled voice sounded over the speakers, "Gray alert Room 818-8 North, gray alert Room 818-8 North, gray alert Room 818-8 North."
Mr. Perry, the man in 818, had been my patient the night before. He was a schizophrenic and alcohol abuser who was admitted for abdominal pain. He had been refusing to take his psych medication, and had been going through alcohol withdrawal, which could make him a very volatile individual, especially when the hallucinations set in. He needed to be sedated. He was ripping the room apart and throwing everything out the door.
At the end of the hall, in front of Room 825, Jared was standing there, on crutches. J.C. was next to him. Jared looked worried and said something to J.C. Mr. Perry emerged from the room into the hallway yelling.
"Leave me alone!" Mr. Perry shouted, holding his head.
"That bitch. She won't listen. Just leave me the fuck alone."
He was pacing back and forth, his eyes wild with craziness.
Where is security?
J.C. was slowly making his way toward Mr. Perry. I held up my hand, signaling him to stop. I turned to Amy who was standing beside me. "He has Haldol and Benadryl — get them."
"Mr. Perry," I said and he stopped pacing, "this is Nurse Kyra. Do you remember me?"
"Nurse Kyra," he replied, turning to look at me, "you are the nice one. You look different."
"Mr. Perry . . ."
"Nurse Kyra, don't let that bitch back in my room," he said angrily, pointing at Amy.
"Okay, Mr. Perry, I'll be your nurse tonight."
"I don't want her back in my room," he shouted angrily.
He continued to pace back and forth, mumbling and holding his head.
"Mr. Perry, I'll be your nurse," I repeated calmly. "Can you please go back to your room?"
"No, no." He shook his head. "Don't want to go back... No more medicine."
"Okay, Mr. Perry, no more medicine."
Three security guards finally arrived. When Mr. Perry saw them, he got aggressively hostile. Amy handed me the syringes with the Haldol and Benadryl and I hid them in my pocket. Mr. Perry refused to go back into his room. There was a struggle between him and the security guards, and he seemed to be winning. He was a huge man.
J.C. stepped in and, grabbing Mr. Perry's left hand, he yanked it up behind his back, pushing him up against the wall. Mr. Perry yelled out in pain. They lowered him to the ground. He was still struggling.
"Guys, you'll have to hold him still," I told them.
With J.C. still holding his hand behind his back and the other security guards each holding a limb, I knelt and injected Mr. Perry in his left buttock. They were then able to lift him and place him in his bed. He would be sleeping all night.
I settled Mr. Perry into bed. Jared was leaning against the wall, on his crutches, by his room. I pretended not to see him, picked up my phone from the nurses station, and continued walking in the opposite direction.
My phone chimed.
Jared's text: Did my honesty scare you off? Can we talk?
I turned around and walked toward him. J.C. and the security guys were by Room 818, talking.
He smiled as I approached. "So this is what you look like out of uniform? I almost didn't recognize you."
The smile disappeared from his face. "Do you know the effect you have on men? You even had that crazy patient under your control. What you did there was incredibly brave and incredibly stupid."
"You seem concerned."
"I was terrified for you."
"What did you say to J.C.?"
"Not to let him touch you, and that's putting it nicely."
"Let me get you back to bed," I offered.
I opened the doors and he walked in on his crutches.
"You look very beautiful tonight," Jared said, as he sat on the bed.
"Thank you." I took the crutches from him, and leaned them against the wa
ll next to his bed. "Are you trying to flatter me, Mr. Stern? Because I do not get involved with patients."
"Hold on." He raised his hand. "Do we really need to have this discussion again? Because if that's the issue, I can easily fix it."
"Stop it!" I snapped at him.
He smiled.
"Mr. Stern, I do not know what kind of woman you think I am, but I do not get involved with men who are already in a relationship."
"An uncomplicated relationship."
"I really don't care how you describe it. It's still a relationship. Have you ever had a complicated relationship?
"Yes," he answered. His eyes lost all their liveliness and were filled with sadness and pain.
I thought I'd better not delve into that issue right then.
"Why didn't you show up for work tonight?" he asked.
"I was not feeling well."
"Did it have anything to do with me being truthful about my relationship?"
He made it sound like I was punishing him for telling me the truth. Even though I appreciated his honesty, it made me realize that perhaps he could not offer me the kind of relationship I wanted - a complicated relationship with strong emotional attachments, meaning, and a promising future. That look in his eyes earlier when he had answered yes to having had a complicated relationship made me think something had happened that changed him.
"Yes, it does. I do not do uncomplicated relationships, and you already have a companion."
He grabbed my hand as I turned to leave.
"Kyra, please don't go. I need to talk to you and afterwards, if you decide you don't want to have anything to do with me, I won't bother you anymore."
"Can we talk later?"
"You're not leaving?"
"I came in for a couple of hours to do some paperwork, but I'm staying a little longer to help out my coworkers."
I tried to pull my hand away from his, but he held on tighter.
"Are you going to let me go?"
"I wish I didn't have to."
"Jared, I will be back in an hour to do your pin site care."
He brought my hand to his lips and planted a gentle kiss on the back of my hand; it sent a tingle up my arm.
"I'll be back."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I don't expect you to."
He smiled.
I changed into the green medical scrubs, a long green jacket, and placed the shoe covers over my Jimmy Choo booties. I did the admissions and assessments of three new patients in an hour. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I had not eaten anything substantial since I got home from work yesterday morning. It was now one-fifteen AM, which meant I had not eaten in over twelve hours. I grabbed a Snickers bar from the nurses station and ate it quickly. J.C. was in the sitting area watching television.
"Great job with Mr. Perry," I said to him.
"Likewise," he responded.
Jared was in bed, his eyes closed; I thought he was asleep. He opened his eyes as I approached the bed.
"Right on time," he said. "Green suits you. Is there anything that does not look good on you?"
"Are you feeling all right?" I asked. He did not look like himself. He looked drained and tired.
"Apart from the occasional chill, I'm fine."
"You've been having chills?"
"Since early evening."
I logged myself into the computer mounted on the wall to check his vital signs and noticed he had been spiking temperatures. The last temperature, taken at midnight, was 101.2.
"Kyra, is everything okay?" Jared asked.
"You have been running a fever. Let me do your pin care." I was concerned about the pin site, which looked inflamed.
As I did his pin care, my unruly stomach protested loudly. It was embarrassing.
"When was the last time you ate?" Jared asked.
"This morning . . . well, yesterday morning."
"You haven't eaten all day?"
"No." My stomach protested angrily again.
"Pasta or steak?"
"What?"
"Do you want pasta or steak?"
"I'll get something when I'm done."
"That's not what I asked you, Kyra," he said placidly.
"J.C., bring in the food you brought." I looked up and he was on the phone with J.C.
All the pin sites were fine except for the one site that was inflamed. I did another set of vitals; his temperature was 99.8. I called Dr. Collins, his attending, and got orders for wound culture, blood culture, and to start him on antibiotics. J.C. brought in two bags from one of my favorite restaurants and placed them on the table, and then left.
"You need to eat, Kyra," Jared said seriously.
"Let me do these labs first and then I'll eat."
"Kyra, you are going to eat first, before you do anything else." He said it in such an authoritative tone that I walked over to the table and took the food from the first bag my hand touched. It was shrimp pasta and I placed it in the microwave.
"Let me go write your orders. I'll be back in five minutes."
"Five minutes, Kyra, or I'll send J.C. to come find you," he warned.
I frowned at him.
"Five minutes," he repeated.
Back at the nurses station, I wrote the orders in his chart and Jackie, the secretary, entered them into the computer. I collected the supplies for the lab work and an intravenous start kit and went back to the room as quickly as I could. I had no doubt he would send J.C. to find me. The seafood pasta was plated and there was a glass with ice, a bottle of lemonade, and a delicious slice of cheesecake with strawberries.
"Did you do this?" I asked.
"Eat, Kyra."
I think he did because the crutches were not where I had placed them earlier. I could not believe I was actually eating food from a patient. Usually, when a patient offers a nurse food that's already in the room, we respectfully decline, no matter how hungry we are. If they insist, it ends up in the garbage. So, accepting food from Jared was a big thing. I sat and ate silently while he worked on his computer.
"Thanks for dinner," I said when I was finished.
"You're welcome."
Jared then allowed me to do the wound and blood cultures and send them off to the lab.
"I'll have to start a new intravenous line for your antibiotics," I told Jared.
"Go ahead," he said, stretching out his left hand.
"This is going to be tight," I said as I tied the tourniquet to his upper arm. My favorite vein, the cephalic, popped up right above his gorgeous, gold, Patek Philippe watch.
"Do you mind removing your watch?" I asked.
"I do mind. You'll just have to find another vein," he replied curtly.
"No problem," I said. Then after sticking him in the mid-forearm, I started his antibiotics. Why was he so terse? What was he hiding? Maybe a tattoo?
"Would you like something for sleep? You need to rest."
"No, thanks."
"Fine, you're the patient."
"You sound upset."
"Jared, you need to rest so you can get better. You are always on the phone or the computer. Don't you want to get back to your life?"
"I haven't had a life in six years."
"A great number of people might beg to differ." I turned toward the door. "We'll talk after you have rested." I left the room.
Half an hour later I went back to disconnect his antibiotics. Then, unbeknownst to him I gave him the nurse's dose of Benadryl, a little more than what was ordered to make sure he slept.
"Kyra, maybe I should take something for sleep," Jared said.
"You've already gotten it," I replied.
He smiled and shook his head. "What did you give me?"
"Benadryl."
"We need to talk, Kyra. Promise me you'll wake me up before you leave."
"I promise. Goodnight."
"Thank you, Kyra."
"No problem. Just doing my job."
"Do I get a good-night kiss?"
<
br /> "That's not in my job description. Good night, Mr. Stern.
"I hate when you do that."
"I know."
How many boundaries did I cross in that encounter?
Before I left at six o'clock, I peeked in on Jared and he was peacefully sleeping. He looked so angelic, I was tempted to caress his lips with mine and I had to remind myself that he was my patient. It was morally wrong and I had to maintain professional boundaries. He had been sleeping for about four hours now, the most I have ever seen him sleep. I could not help but wonder why Ella hadn't visited him. But the most pressing question was why he was so discourteous when I asked him to remove his watch in order for me to start an intravenous line. So guarded was he, with apparently a great deal to hide.
I took my phone out and sent him a text.
My text: Standing next to you right now watching you sleep so peacefully. Could not bring myself to wake you. Left early. See you later. - K
I got home, took a shower, ate, saw Nate off to school. I could not have asked for a more respectful, well-behaved, studious child. Everyone he met loved him and it made me so proud to hear the accolades he received from his teachers and friends. He was my only child and I couldn't help but spoil him a little. He loved his games, so when he asked for the latest PS3 game, I went online and ordered it. He would have it when he got home; Aunt Maggie was making a run to the store to pick the game up. After completing some research on a paper that I had to write for school, I nestled myself between my comfy Egyptian cotton sheets when my phone chimed.
Jared's text: You broke your promise.
My text: Please forgive me.
Jared's text: I'll have to think about it.
My text: How was your sleep?
Jared's text: Very restful. Most I've had in years.
My text: Good. You needed it. I'm going to bed now. See you later.
Jared's text: What would you like for dinner tonight?
My text: Surprise me.
Jared's text: Seafood?
My text: My favorite. Why were you so blunt when I asked about the dressing on your hand the night you were admitted, and also last night when I asked you to remove your watch?
Jared's text: Sorry if I was. It's nothing really. Sweet dreams. Can't wait to see you.
It's nothing really. That's a load of crap, and I'm not buying. Nobody reacts in such a snappy, cagey manner to nothing. My suspicious antennas were up transmitting skeptical signals; something was not right.