When You're Expecting Something Else

by Lowe, Whisper

  “My friends. They came. You saw them. Why did they have to go?”

  “I’m here now, Jared. You had a bad dream, remember? Nobody came. Fred’s here with me. We’re your friends.” She smoothed Jared’s face as she talked, treating him the way a mother might treat a small, frightened child.

  Jared’s eyes darted around the room, skittering over the medical equipment, taking it all in. “It felt so real. I really thought they were here,” he said. “Did you find my phone? Maybe I should just get another one. Can you order a new phone for me?”

  “Not yet, sweetie. Dr. Julius doesn’t want you talking too much. You mustn’t get excited.”

  *****

  Stan wound his car around the maze of one-way streets in downtown San Francisco until he found the parking lot belonging to San Francisco Geriatric Center. Standing in front of his car, he looked up at the impressive three-story brick building. It had the same architectural style as many of the buildings in the historical Presidio nearby, though not exactly. Clinging ivy vines climbed the brick walls here, winding around the windows, giving the hospital a well cared for look of age, as if the building had withstood the test of time, making him think about the aging residents housed inside.

  He wanted to see the place first hand, so he’d called earlier to set up an appointment to meet with an administrator, posing as a potential client, seeking placement for his elderly grandmother. At first they’d wanted to put him off until next week, but he’d insisted he didn’t have a lot of time to shop around, and that it was now or never, at the same time dropping little hints that his grandmother was a wealthy woman and not a patient one. Kaitleen Logan said she’d squeeze him in at three-thirty. Glancing at his watch, he was pleased to see he had half an hour to spare.

  Sure enough, as he’d expected, it was change of shift. Nurses were coming and going, creating what he’d hoped would be the perfect distraction. It was easy enough for him to mingle in with the influx of noise, but, being tall and standing above the crowd, thwarted his efforts to hide.

  “Excuse me, excuse me, sir! Visitors have to check in at the front desk. I can help you here,” Cassandra Turned called out.

  “Damn, I was hoping to tour your facility before my appointment with Kaitleen Logan,” Stan admitted, looking sheepish. “My name is Roy Townsend. I have a three-thirty appointment to talk about placement for my ninety-one year old grandmother, but I want to see how things look here before making any decisions. Do you mind if I just walk around? I really don’t want a canned tour. I’m sure you can understand.”

  Cassandra, in the middle of shift reports and issuing new assignments, shook her head. “Just give me a minute,” she said, turning her focus back to the squabbling of two nurses who appeared to be in a disagreement about their shift assignments. Stan took advantage of her preoccupation and ducked around a corner, out of sight, almost bumping into a nurse.

  “Can you tell me which room Jared Wise is in?” he asked, flashing his most innocent smile.

  “Oh yes, I’m Thuy Phan. I take care of Mr. Wise,” she said with a slight bow. “Come, I show you. Mr. Wise not have visitors since grandson not able to come. Good, good. You come. I show you.”

  “How’s he doing?” Stan asked.

  “Oh, Mr. Wise always the same. Coma, you know,” she said, leading him down the long corridor. She stopped at the door and pointed to the bed. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you. I’ll just visit for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.” Inside the room, he wondered what he had hoped to accomplish. Jared Wise Sr. was indeed comatose, positioned on his side with pillows all around, behind his back, between his knees, under his head, and even pushed up against the bottoms of his feet. A white bed sheet was fan-folded at the bottom of his bed, his blue patient gown draped across his pale motionless body.

  For lack of a plan, Stan pulled the bedside chair up close to the man. “Hi,” he whispered, “You don’t know me, but I’m going to help your grandson Jared get out of a mess he doesn’t even know he’s in.” Then, feeling silly and useless, he left the old man and wandered around the hallways looking in resident’s rooms, talking briefly to an elderly woman shuffling her walker down the hallway, and peeking into hall recesses where he found laundry carts and unoccupied wheelchairs stuffed out of sight of casual observers.

  Finally, at three twenty-five he walked back to the front desk where Cassandra sat talking on her cell phone in a hushed but angry whisper. “Marta, you’re making me crazy. You can’t just put Julius in as Jared’s doctor. What if he really needs medical attention? He’s barely out of ICU. Julius can’t possibly expect paperwork to cover every stupid thing he does. If Jared dies from your idiocy, it’ll be as good as murder, and I don’t want to be….” With an abrupt interruption, she continued, “Well, Dr. I’ll put your call through to the resident right now.” Obviously noticing that Stan had crept into hearing distance, she pushed a few buttons and aborted the call.

  “Did you say murder?” Stan asked, hoping to get a reaction. He wished he’d heard more of the conversation. He’d obviously rattled her.

  “Oh,” Cassandra laughed half heartedly, awkwardly covering her embarrassment at having been overheard. “Have you ever played the board game How to Host a Murder? It’s a riot, a great party game. My doctor friend and I are planning a party. It’s probably not a good thing to talk about in a hospital setting, though.” She smiled and raised her eyebrows at Roy Townsend. “I guess you’re ready to meet with Kaitleen. Administrative offices are downstairs. You can take the elevator in the lobby. Kaitleen will meet you there.”

  “I think I’ll look up that board game for my next party, too. Murder sounds interesting,” he said with a wink before walking toward the lobby.

  Kaitleen was waiting in front of the elevator when the doors opened. “Nice to meet you Mr. Townsend. I see you found your way. Some people complain about our location in San Francisco because they don’t like the drive Come, my office is this way,” she said leading the way, forcing him to adjust his stride to keep up with her briskly efficient pace.

  “Who can complain when you have a private parking lot right on site,” he replied, matching her small talk while sizing up Kaitleen Logan. She was average height, slightly plump but not fat, with a droopy look, though her conservative gray business suit looked professional. He hair lacked luster and her eyes were rimmed with dark circles as if she didn’t get enough sleep or had food allergies; not the look of evil he’d expected, whatever evil looked like. He’d always been surprised when he worked a story and learned the identity of someone who’d committed a heinous crime. He never expected evil to have a human look.

  Kaitleen’s office suited her, he thought. The standard black desk, small desktop computer, and a black file cabinet were plain but not unattractive. The walls were an oddly textured gray with pale yellow trim and colorful, artistic wall hangings rather than paintings or credentials. She offered him a comfortable chair on wheels and motioned for him to sit up closer to the desk. “I have a questionnaire for you to fill out about your grandmother’s care needs. Also, here are some brochures about our hospital. This sheet here is about pricing, and this one here about insurance. Most of our patients have Medicare insurance, but some also have private insurance, as well as self-pay.” She handed the packet to him.

  He glanced through the paperwork paying particular attention to the Medicare sheet in the packet. “There’s so much here. Would you mind if I took the packet home with me. I didn’t realize I’d need to provide so much information today. I’ll need to check with Grandma about some of this,” he said.

  “Of course, that’s fine,” Kaitleen said. She looked tired or preoccupied, maybe both, obviously relieved that the meeting remained short. “You can take your time and get back to me when you’re ready. As I mentioned over the phone, it’ll be several weeks before we expect to have space available.” She stood up ready to escort him out the way he came.

  “I can find my way. I’m sur
e you’re very busy and I thank you for your time,” he said, shaking her hand, concluding his business. He’d gotten what he’d come for, the admission paperwork and a look in at Jared Wise, for no other reason than to verify that he did in fact reside here. With so much confusion about the existence of Aunt Margaret, it only made sense to verify his existence, too.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Isabella looks up at me quizzically. “You’ll be fine. Your bowls are full and I’ll be back home before you know it.” I slug down my last gulp of coffee and finish the last bite of blueberry muffin. I brush my teeth and then slip into my nursing scrubs. It’s my first day of work at Pacific West Hospital. I’m nervous and excited at the same time. I’ll be doing my orientation with Regina. I’m glad to be easing into my new change in specialty from pediatrics to med-surge with a good solid four weeks of transition time.

  Surprisingly, there have been no setbacks in my recovery from the car accident, no recurrence of pain in any way. Ever since I walked out of that hospital room three weeks ago, my life has been totally changed. Occasionally, Alex and Sandy slip as uninvited guests into my thoughts, but the searing hatred that once gripped me is gone. I really don’t feel hatred towards them at all anymore. I just feel pity. I’m still trying to understand it because, for all intents and purposes, they’re living my old life.

  Amazingly, I love my new life. I feel so much more me, if that makes any sense. I’ve rediscovered hiking. I can’t believe how much nature feeds my soul. The weather in the Bay Area is so totally rejuvenating. The sun shines every day. Stan tells me that we have seasons here, too. Our rainy season is in the winter, but he says it never snows, and I’ll never have to deal with sleet or freezing rain again unless I drive to Tahoe to ski, which I might actually decide to do sometime.

  I really like Stan. I still can’t call him a boyfriend, per say. I haven’t really known him long enough, but I’ve seen him several times now. He’s really very supportive, easy to talk to, and he’s a great tour guide. I’m actually learning my way around San Jose. He told me about sticking his nose into the San Francisco Geriatric Center to see if Jared’s grandfather actually exists. I laughed at that, but with Jared’s crazy healthcare team and the confusion about Aunt Margaret, I can see where it made sense for Stan to want to check it out. For some reason, he really cares about Jared. Stan thinks he can get some kind of story out of it all.

  I guess everything’s finally okay because Maggie has gone back to Boston and I haven’t heard anything more about Bradley Lawton or Shannon Tanner. I guess they all realize that aside from being in the accident with Jared, I don’t actually know him. My duty is done, except of course, with Isabella. But, Marta said she was allergic, so I figure as long as she’s staying with Jared, Isabella belongs with me. I don’t really have a formalized plan, but passively, I expect to do nothing until someone calls telling me I have to bring her back.

  Meanwhile, I’ve got a job to do, so I give Isabella one last pet, lock the door behind me, and jump into my car. I have to be in Mountain View for start of shift at seven o’clock. I’ve never worked a twelve-hour shift before, but they seem to be popular in the hospitals out here. You work three twelve-hour shifts a week and get paid for forty hours. Then I’ll have four days off to do anything I want, like hiking or dating or going out on the town with some of my new nurse friends. I really feel myself building a life.

  On arriving at Medical-Five, I take a moment to look around. The noise and hustle around the Nurses Station excites me. I just love the commotion when all the nurses are chattering at once, the phones ringing, and the elevators clanging. Change of shift is a lively time. The smells of breakfast waft through the hallways. Patients are waking up and nursing assistants and orderlies are rushing to do their early morning chores.

  The nurses remember me from being a patient. Regina called me last night and told me they’re expecting me; that many look forward to getting to know me better. All the friendly greetings feel so good. All I can do is smile.

  Regina intercepts me at the time clock. “Come on,” she says. “For today, just shadow me. Get a feel for the routines and observe how we do things. Save your questions for break time. I’ll answer them all at once.”

  I follow her into the Nurses Lounge where I meet Carla, the off-going nurse. She gives us report on our seven patients, which means she gives the highlights about each patient, such as their diagnosis, assessments, medications and treatments. So far the change of shift routine is the same as I’m used to. With kids, though, we’d have four patients rather than seven, probably because kids have more dependency issues than adults.

  The Medical Care Plans and Nursing Care Plans for each patient are all computerized. These care plans tell the nurses everything they need to know about each patient’s care. The off-going nurse hands Regina a hand held computer with built in pager that is used to communicate with the patient and also with the Nurses Station. Regina uses this small computer the way I used a clipboard and printouts at New Haven General. She sees my puzzled look as I peer over the device. “Don’t worry, you’re not expected to know this yet. Sara Ianovich has you on the schedule for computer class tomorrow afternoon. For now, just watch,” she says.

  I nod, knowing not to bother her or interrupt during report. Carla needs to clock out on time or face having to justify overtime. Must be universal. Only so much time is allotted and it doesn’t allow much for casual chitchat. Only twenty minutes in, and I already feel the familiar pulse of working in a hospital.

  “Come on, we have to do finger sticks and give insulin to two diabetics before breakfast trays come up, and we’ve got a patient to get ready for surgery ASAP.” Regina races the clock to the medication cart where she grabs the diabetic kit and all but sprints to our first patient. I want to grab my own kit and hit the floor running to the next patient, but of course, I can’t. I don’t even know where the supply room is, or where anything is kept, for that matter. How weird to feel so familiar and so strange all rolled into one.

  I can barely keep up with Regina’s efficient pace. She’s orienting me to the diabetic test machine at the patient’s bedside while I catch my breath, noticing the similarities and differences between this manufacturer’s model and the one I’m used to. In a minute she reads the patient’s blood sugar and draws up the allotted insulin, asking me to eyeball the dosage with her. Insulin administration requires two nurses to witness the correct dosage. I might be a newbie, but I know the policy. Ha, I think to myself, I have my worth today as more than a shadow already.

  And so day number one is off and running. I love it. I absolutely love being a nurse and being back to work. There’s a difference between taking care of children versus adults. I see it right away. For one thing, with a child, you could never run in, stick in a needle full of medication, and run back out. The kid would be traumatized for life and scream its head off the whole day through. With adults you don’t have frightened young parents to deal with, either. Thus, I’m used to a slower pace, but this is invigorating, and I like it.

  We’re working with a nursing assistant named Carmen. While we’re running around doing diabetic care and pre-op routines for a surgical patient, Carmen is taking vital signs, ambulating patients to the bathroom, taking weights, and setting patients up for breakfast.

  “Next, we have to do the eight o’clock scheduled meds. We’re going to be a few minutes late, but not too bad,” Regina says. I follow her, paying attention where to find things and how to chart them given, although the information comes from the computer and is charted into the computer. Now I’m feeling really jazzed about that computer class and the efficiency of modern technology. I do think the Bay Area is slightly ahead of the game as far as the latest technology. It’s exciting.

  By nine-thirty we’ve earned a fifteen-minute break, so I follow Regina to the Nurses Lounge where she pours us each a cup of coffee. Mine’s in a paper cup, hers in a green ceramic mug with a slogan on the side that says, don’t bother
me I’m reading in white cursive. “Better bring a cup from home. They don’t always paper cups in here,” she says.

  Surprisingly, my questions aren’t too complicated. She answers them quickly, which actually gives us a few minutes for personal talk. I ask her about the husband I’d talked to on the phone.

  “Oh, I got lucky. He’s really great. Oh, and by the way, he has a brother, too. And, he’s pretty great. Are you interested?” she asks.

  I smile, think of Stan, and wonder if I’m interested or not. Since meeting Stan, I haven’t even looked at datesforall.com. At the same time, I hardly know him, yet. I’m not one for playing the field, but maybe I should try it, the new me.