by Barbara Ebel
The lab director frowned at her. “Two in one day,” she said. “Hand-selected by your group. Good luck.” She thrust the necessary cup in Jennie’s hands and nodded towards the sign in the back for the bathroom.
Jennie walked slowly. She thought back over the three years she’d been working at Masonville General Hospital as a nurse anesthetist. Arriving straight out of CRNA school, this group was the only one she knew, and almost all her experience was attributed to this place. She’d hate for anything to go amiss.
Plus, the docs and the nurses were as familiar as a second family and, the following weekend, that would be truer than ever since she was marrying Casey. They started dating the last year of CRNA school and simultaneously sought jobs in the same places where anesthesia groups needed more than one anesthetist. They hit the jackpot when they both interviewed and nailed down two spots.
Jennie and Casey were die hard nurse anesthetists and more political than the doctors in their group were aware of. The push for CRNAs to practice without physician supervision was dear to their hearts, and they contributed significantly to the CRNA organizations bent on making them as potent a caretaker in the field of anesthesia as doctors.
They’d learned all the tricks, such as introducing themselves to patients with words such as I’m so-and-so, and “I’ll be your anesthesia provider today,” or “I’m your anesthetist today,” subtly leaving out the fact that they were the nurse and not the doctor.
Besides trying to work independently, the latest push by their head organization was a bill to call them officially “nurse anesthesiologists” instead of nurse anesthetists. Jennie and Casey tried to back the CRNA head organization financially as much as they could.
In essence, Jennie and Casey both thought that medical school and residency were great for those who did it, but they wanted to skirt by on nurse anesthetist school and advance as far as possible using only that education to reach the top most income, public perception, and professional independence. Solidly attracted to each other in their last year of CRNA school, their romance only grew until it tapered off into a solid partnership of love, friendship, similar ideals, and the push to propagate income on the side if and when they wanted.
Jennie pulled her pants down in the bathroom and peed in the cup. In the last three years, she had only done it twice. Thinking that she was due in the near future was the only way to consider the request half-way reasonable.
She returned to the bench where the director took the sample and said, “I like my job, but not when it comes to analyzing urine for drugs from OR workers.”
CHAPTER 7
Happy that it was almost three o’clock, Viktoria finished her last case, and didn’t need to turn it over to someone else.
Dr. Nettle’s day was not over, however. He was tired of being on his feet and sat at the OR main desk glancing back and forth between the board and the case headed back to the OR. Dr. Thorsdottir stopped and put her hands on the counter. “You finished with me?”
“Yes, you can go. However, I called the lab a few minutes ago and the drug sampling results should be done soon. The director will be calling me back.”
“I’ll check back with you again. I’m going to go postop on my one patient from yesterday who stayed in the hospital. My diabetic foot ulcer patient whom I put in a central line is in house, but the cholecystectomy went home.”
Phillip slid his glasses down and rubbed his eyes. “No. You don’t need to do that. We send someone up every day to see and write postop notes on all the patients like we are required to do. The doc running the schedule sees that it gets done. Jennie saw some today and I fit in a few too.”
“Most groups do take care of it. However, I always follow up with my own patients. I want to know how each and every patient of mine fared, if they experienced any anesthetic complications, and if they were satisfied.”
“Suit yourself. But you won’t get paid anything extra after three o’clock.”
“Don’t expect to.”
Viktoria walked to the doctor’s lounge and looked up the room number for Helen Grant on a computer. Her stomach growled from the lack of lunch, so she surveyed the counter. Under a covered tray, she found croissant sandwiches.
The door opened and in walked Jeffrey Appleton. “Dr. Thorsdottir!” His eyes beamed as he stood next to her. “I sneak in here although I’m not a doctor. The lounge is so close to my office, it calls me in. Plus, I’m more lenient about coming in here as the day comes to an end.” His sleeves were rolled up and, although he wore a tie, it was loosened.
“Mr. Appleton, you indirectly pay for the edibles in here, all for the doctors’ benefit. I don’t think anyone will mind.”
“Hopefully not. Can I pour you something?”
“Sure.”
“An iced tea?”
“Anything here will help wash down this sandwich which tastes a bit ripe. However, I’m not complaining. Any food here will take care of the growling in my stomach.”
He poured her tea from a machine dispenser and handed it to her. “The group is keeping you on your seven to three hours, aren’t they?”
“Yes, no problem. I have a few loose ends to take care of and then I’m out of here.”
“Is there a significant other who made this trip with you and is waiting for you?”
“No, for almost all my assignments, I travel solo.” She peered at the cup, the dog coming to mind, and a trace of a smile crossed her lips.
He cocked his head. “Oh, then perhaps you’re meeting someone while you’re here.”
Viktoria took a sip, without a response.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to pry.” His toned arm reached above them and brought down more cups from the cabinet; he poured himself a drink as well.
“You weren’t prying. Actually, I befriended a dog yesterday. Do you happen to know where there’s a pet store around here? I need supplies.”
He gave her direct eye contact, and she returned it straight on. “The best pet store is a couple of blocks down from the vet’s office, which is …”
Viktoria put her hand up. “I know where the vet’s office is, so I’ll find it.”
“You’re quite the explorer for such a short time.”
“Sometimes.” She pitched her napkin and cup. “I better get a move on. Nice talking to you.”
-----
Viktoria braced herself outside Helen Grant’s room. No doubt, the woman would be complaining no matter how stellar everyone took care of her. She knocked and entered.
“Mrs. Grant, it’s Dr. Thorsdottir, your anesthesiologist from yesterday. I’m here to check up on you and ask you how your anesthetic went.”
The woman scowled and wiggled in the bed. “Somebody already kind-of asked me that today. Although they came and went like there was a fire burning in here.”
“Well, there isn’t, so feel free to tell me.”
“I guess it went okay because I don’t remember anything.”
Suddenly, Mrs. Grant’s expression changed because she considered that to be a funny remark.
“Perfect. And let me peek at the area where I inserted your central line.”
Viktoria moved the woman’s gown down a bit from her shoulder and observed through the sheer dressing. She nodded her approval. “The big IV looks fine. I hope you go home soon.”
“Me too.”
Viktoria wrote a postop note on her chart and went back to the OR. She went straight to the office where Dr. Nettle was seated eating popcorn while looking at the next day’s schedule.
“Hey,” he said, “Jay is the scheduler again tomorrow, but we’re assigning you to supervise two rooms with nurse anesthetists tomorrow.”
“No problem.”
He continued dipping his hand into the bag while she waited.
“Did the lab call you yet?”
“Oh yeah. There was no incriminating result from your sample. No narcotics showed up, unless of course, you switched cups with someone else.”
&
nbsp; “Will your nurse anesthetist have the same result? And would you say something that derogatory to her?”
Phillip stopped chewing. “For your information, Jennie is clear, which is no surprise.” He looked up at her. “We’re back where we started. Where did your drug vial go?”
-----
The front doors of the hospital slid open and Viktoria stepped outside to a gorgeous day. She inhaled deeply, purging herself of the muck and mire of the hours and OR behind her, and put her face towards the sun. The warmth felt marvelous while she considered the needed dose of Vitamin D.
The pet store was closer to her now than going back to the hotel and returning, but she knew the right thing to do was to go release Buddy from the confines of the suite. His day with boredom had already been stretched out longer than she wanted. And who knows what kind of trouble he may have gotten into while she was gone?
On Hospital Road, she headed to the left and soon pulled into the Stay Long Hotel. When she grabbed her things from the car, she noticed the car from yesterday parked in front of the adjoining unit. She turned the key in the door and stepped in. At least light filtered in from the back windows and door and it was not dark and dreary. Swaying his tail in front of her was Buddy.
Viktoria immediately crouched down, dropped her things to the side, and encircled the dog in her arms. While he plastered her face with kisses, she saw the bandage on his back leg. Relief swept all over her. He had not torn it off. She returned his affection. How could he open his heart to her after being treated like dirt by another human?
Maybe the biggest lesson he learned, she thought, was that humans come in only two varieties. Those that are filled with distrust, cruelty, mockery and bullying towards others, and only live with their own inflated sense of worth. They play power games and to hell with every other living being except themselves.
The second type, in the minority, are the custodians of not only other living beings, but the planet as well. Not selfish, they are, in actuality, caretakers of any living or non-living thing that they are able to do something about.
Well, maybe the dog hadn’t put all of that together, but he must have learned something. He can certainly trust her.
“You are charming and I’m happy to see you too.” Now comes the hard part, she thought, standing up.
Careful about the limited clothes she had brought on the trip, she had put them all in the closet and in the drawers. They were safe, but the too many pillows which were stacked up by the headboard were all in new places. She held back laughing at their rearrangement, strewn about across the floor. One was even in the bathtub.
The smallest pillow of the lot was purely decorative. Now it was a lot more ornamental because two ridged corner seams were gone and some fluffy cotton interior littered the carpet. Viktoria bit her lip but again, had to smile over the puppy work. She scoured the rest of the room and found little evidence of further mischief. The few items previously in the kitchen wastebasket were dotted on the tile floor and a napkin was shredded to bits.
“All told, not too bad,” Viktoria announced. In a stern tone, however, she held the pillow up to his face and said, “Bad dog.”
She hurried to give the dog a tiny, interim walk, but grabbed the damaged pillow as she left the room. As she walked him close by, she was entirely grateful that he lasted in the room without any accidents. She then headed to the front office.
“Hi,” she said as she walked in with Buddy.
A middle-aged man with a tidy mustache and a hotel shirt rose from a chair behind the counter. He put his glasses and newspaper on the counter while she read his name tag stating “Mason.”
“I’m Viktoria, staying next door. I have a damaged pillow here from my room and want to make sure a replacement price is put down on my bill.”
Buddy poked his nose around the corner and crept close, trying to greet Mason. The manager nodded and then patted the dog. “What did you do to the nice pillow?” He looked at Viktoria. “Not a big problem. At least not yet. Sure, I’ll put it on your bill. Thanks for telling me.”
“Appreciate that.”
He placed both hands on the counter and frowned. “Your neighbor complained about your dog barking earlier today. I went outside to check, but I didn’t hear a thing.”
“Maybe he was being a watch dog and barked about someone coming or going in the parking lot.”
“So true. I don’t hold that against any dog, so there’s no problem right now.”
“Thanks. Let’s go Buddy.”
Viktoria went back to their room and changed into running clothes. The dog needed a run as much or more than she did. “Come on, Buddy, you’re going to learn a new routine from your new owner.”
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Ben, Fred, and David had worked outside the whole summer so their skin was tanned, no different from if they’d hung out on some tropical beach for a few weeks. They preferred the outdoors, so the sunny day lured them back and forth from inside the third building of the Stay Long Hotel to the parking lot where Fred took cigarette breaks, they talked about women, and talked about getting paid.
“When are you going to give up that dirty habit?” David asked Fred as he stood against the doorway. He was the only one of the three that wore a baseball cap—always the same one; solid black, plain, and with a full brim which practically concealed who he was.
Fred laughed, mocking the question. “Don’t you think that smoking is the least of my problems?” He pointed to the scar running down his cheek.
“He’s not talking about your lack of good looks,” Ben chimed in. “He’s talking about your health.” Although all three men were in their thirties, Ben had a few years on both of them and often made the business decisions.
“You both are off the deep end,” Fred said. He sat on the top step and held out the cigarette. “Like this makes a difference.”
Ben shook his head and walked to his pickup truck where he hoisted a new can of paint out from the cargo bed. As he reached, his blue jeans sagged below his skinny hips, revealing his butt crack. It was not his intent to be a flasher of that part of his body like the current trend, it was simply because he’d lost weight and couldn’t be bothered to buy smaller pants. He sat back down next to Fred. “Only one more wall in there to do before starting the suite next to it.
“The man’ better show up today,” Ben added emphatically. Their employer was “the Man,” whom they fondly and discreetly named since working for him for almost two and a half years. They could barely remember what his real name was.
David grabbed the handle of the can and set the paint just inside the door. “He’ll show,” he said, standing again in the doorway. “He said he’ll be here, he’ll be here. Money plus.”
“I’m dying for my part,” Fred said. “Like I’m overdue.”
“It’s a miracle you like something better than those cigarettes,” Ben said.
“No comparison.”
As if he couldn’t stay still, Ben walked back to his truck and rummaged through a canvas bag. He came back with an open bag of mixed nuts, started munching, and tapped Fred on the arm. “Hey, isn’t that the lady who came by yesterday carrying that dog?”
“One and the same,” Fred responded.
Viktoria crossed into the lot for the third building and let Buddy pee on a tree in one of the landscaped grassy sections. She saw the three men outside the door and passed closer.
“Good day, gentlemen,” she said and stopped. “I found the vet’s office yesterday. It’s that way, off of Hospital Road, in case you ever need to know.” She nodded down the street.
“What happened to his leg?” David asked.
“Don’t know, he needed stitches, but that was the least of his worries.”
Fred finally tossed his cigarette butt but quivered his head like he couldn’t wait for another puff.
Viktoria surmised each of them more closely and nicknamed them in her head: skinny, skinnier, and skinniest.
“You stay
ing in one of the buildings?” Ben asked.
“Yes. I assume you three fixed it up already.”
“Yup. One more after this one. We paint, renovate, and rejuvenate anywhere ‘The Man” sends us.”
“For a price,” Fred added and laughed.
“Well, enjoy the rest of the sunshine.” She tugged at Buddy and they headed towards the sidewalk and then down the road where she found him in the first place.
CHAPTER 8
Viktoria slipped in the door with Buddy. The dog went straight to the water bowl, and she unwrapped a rubber band off a bag on the counter and dug her hand in. She pulled out three sukkulaoihjupaour lakkris. Icelanders were superior at mixing liquorice and chocolate in multiple and tasty ways and these small, round balls were her favorite. She lugged bags of them with her wherever she went. These, in particular, had a white, crispy outer shell, followed inside by milk chocolate, followed by a sliver of black liquorice.
She let the first one melt in her mouth. The next one she indulged by chewing into it, and the third one she rolled around and made noise with her teeth, raising Buddy’s curiosity. She knelt down and enticed the dog with the smell. “Kisses,” she said, edging her cheek close to his face. After a few tries, the dog understood the trick and swiped her cheek with his tongue.
“Good boy, Buddy! I’ve taught you love on command.” She put down his food and readied to go out again. They needed to go shopping.
Viktoria rolled one window down enough so that Buddy would enjoy the windy air on their way to the pet store. His pitch-black nose wiggled around, and she couldn’t help but be joyful that she stumbled on him the day before. By now, he’d probably be dead, she thought. She shuddered thinking about that prospect—him all bound up, and absolutely in a state of fear at the terminal end of his very short existence. The imagery and recall was too horrible to visualize.
Of course, she was well schooled as a caretaker of animals because of her upbringing. In actuality, her caring for other living beings was what made medicine a natural choice for her. Her mother, father, and two brothers always kept dogs, but as much fun were their horses. Her animal love affair began with their Icelandic equine family.