“Adam greets the patients when they come in,” she explained. “He then escorts them to a treatment room.” She picked up a clipboard resting on his desk. “This is where we keep all the production’s call sheets.” She gestured I was to come closer.
I peered over her shoulder.
“See this.” Natalie pointed to the first page. “Here you’ll find all the information you need. Everything from the time they’ll start,” her fingertip slid down, “to the names of the cast and crew. Even the location where they’re filming.” She replaced the clipboard. “Once every show has wrapped you can go home.”
“Got it,” I said.
“Write down the name of each production as well as the name of the P.A. who calls to tell you they’ve wrapped.”
“Production Assistant,” Adam said.
“And note the time they call here.” She gestured to a sheet with the productions listed. “That way we keep track.”
“What are those numbers?” I pointed to the top of the form.
“That lets us know how much time they have left on the lot.” She brought the clipboard closer. “See, the numbers are counting down.”
I gave a nod.
“When a show ends for a few months they call it a hiatus. Then they usually return for another season.” She lowered her gaze. “If they’re lucky and don’t get cancelled.”
“Sucks when they cancel your favorite show, “ Adam said dramatically.
“He was addicted to Cupcake Creations,” Natalie said with a smile, “until they cancelled it.”
“Don’t you knock my cupcakes,” Adam said wryly.
“I loved that show too!” I said.
He looked thrilled.
“Come on, Piper,” Natalie said. “I haven’t even shown you where you can put your bag. What am I thinking?”
“I’m so happy to be here,” I said. “I’m excited to get started.”
“We’re delighted to have you join us,” Natalie said.
Together we strolled down a well-lit corridor, the walls decorated with Gemstone’s movie posters. All of them hung in matching black frames.
“Bring your sunglasses,” she whispered. “Adam’s shirts are so loud I swear we’re at risk of retinal damage.” She winked.
We soon arrived in the staff break room.
A male nurse was sitting in one of the swivel chairs with his legs resting on the central table. He was closely inspecting a chocolate chip cookie.
“Piper, this is Ed.” Natalie sat on the edge of the table. “He’s our night nurse.”
“Hey Piper.” Ed lifted his legs off.
“You can put your bag in that cupboard.” Natalie pointed.
I found a space for it and nudged it in.
“These are unusually crunchy.” Ed munched away, pulling a face.
Natalie reached for the package and turned it over. “They’ve expired.” She gasped. “I brought these in weeks ago.”
He coughed in response. “That explains it then.”
To my surprise, he removed another one from the packet and bit into it.
“They could be moldy or something.” Natalie threw the packet into the corner trash bin.
“That’s years of training that is.” Ed stood up. “Stomach of iron.”
“I’m more concerned about your taste buds,” Natalie said, amused.
He reached for his bag. “My wife’s cooking prepared me for anything.” He lowered his gaze. “You cook?”
“Love cooking,” I said. “I make a mean bread pudding.”
“You’re hired,” he said, and then gave a shrug. “Well you would be if you weren’t already.” He stretched. “Well now I’ve had breakfast it’s time to face the traffic.”
“Drive safely,” Natalie said.
“Have a fun first day.” Ed waved goodbye. “I’m looking forward to sampling some of that bread pudding of yours.”
He made me smile.
“Ed’s been here years,” Natalie explained, “and nothing fazes him.”
“How many nurses do you have on staff?’“ I asked.
“Twenty.” She brushed the few remaining crumbs scattered on the table into her hands then threw them into the trash. “Come check out our rooms.” She led the way.
We entered a cozy treatment room. There were numerous cupboards, a sink to our left, and right in the center was an examination chair. A subtle aroma of disinfectant lingered.
“We bring minor injuries in here,” Natalie began. “Splinters, small cuts and scrapes, or headaches, that kind of thing.” She pointed to one of the cupboards. “Get familiar with where we keep the supplies.”
I followed her next door into the larger treatment room. To our left was a gurney covered in a pristine white sheet, and on the floor beside it rested an oxygen tank; hanging from it was a plastic sealed oxygen mask.
Natalie gestured to the gurney. “For more serious injuries or for patients who need to lie down, we bring them in here.” She straightened the bedsheet, tucking it neatly under either side of the slim mattress. “Patients with symptoms of dizziness, chest pain, allergic reactions, that kind of thing.”
On a shelf to our right were more medical supplies neatly stacked. Also underneath it was a line of drawers full of over the counter medications. Beneath that was a row of perfectly aligned bandages, and on the lower shelf was an assortment of band-aids.
Natalie pointed to the phone. “If you have a patient that needs an ambulance, dial 9444. You’ll get straight through to security in the communication center. They’ll make the call to the paramedics. Security will guide the ambulance through the appropriate gate and then safely across the lot. That means you can go back to caring for the patient until they arrive.”
I made a mental note of the number and found myself running through a checklist of possible scenarios, remembering my basic life support training. As Natalie had explained during my interview, patients presented a wide range of conditions, and it was down to me to assess, treat, and announce it as a medical emergency. The responsibility was far reaching, but one I felt ready for.
“We’re first responders really,” Natalie explained. “Airway, breathing, and circulation. You know the drill.”
“Got it,” I said, though my stomach did a flip with a mixture of excitement and nerves.
“Adam goes home at four,” she continued. “So after he leaves you’re alone and the only ‘It’ girl for the entire lot.” She leaned back against the gurney. “You could be covering over five thousand people at any one time.”
“What if you have two emergencies at the same time?”
“Hopefully you have time to finish up with one injury before you run off to take care of the next. It’s basic triage. Do the best you can.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Five years. I love it. Everyone’s real friendly, and there’s a great deal of variety with what we do.” She repositioned the instrument table next to the gurney. “From your resume, I saw you worked in Med/Surg for a year and one in the ER.”
“Yes.”
Natalie smiled. “On location, the film sets use medics. Here on the lot they exclusively use RNs.”
A high pitched phone rang out.
Natalie’s eyebrows raised in anticipation. “That’s the emergency line.” She marched toward the front reception. “Hey, Adam, was that for us?”
“Yes.” He hung up the phone. “Stage 4. An electrician’s struck his head on a light and he’s hanging from the ceiling.” Adam looked worried. “That’s pretty high up.”
“Is he conscious?” Natalie asked.
Adam nodded.
“And breathing?” There was remarkable ease in her tone.
“Yes, apparently he’s talking,” he said.
Natalie turned to me. “Nothing quite like jumping in at the deep end. Ready?” She didn’t wait for my answer, merely grabbed an orange backpack and pointed to a yellow bag. “Piper, bring the O2.”
Adam threw Nata
lie a set of keys. She caught them with her left hand and bolted through the front door. I was right behind her, carrying the oxygen.
Natalie spoke into her radio. “Blue-watch to comm center.”
Her radio buzzed and a voice came through. “This is comm center.”
“Blue-one responding to Stage 4,” she told them.
“10-4,” came the reply.
Natalie leaped into the driver’s side of the emergency golf cart and I slid in next to her.
“Hang on,” she said.
With a jolt, we were off. Natalie navigated the cart in between pedestrians, who didn’t seem to notice us, as well as other speeding golf carts. The occasional bicycle whipped by. We zipped along, winding our way down slim pathways in-between towering stages.
The wind blew our hair over our faces and I wondered how disheveled we’d look upon our arrival. The cart’s roof squeaked above us and the vehicle shook slightly as we picked up speed.
“You’ll get to know all the shortcuts,” Natalie said, her focus on the way ahead. “Very often you’ll run into a crew filming and you’ll have to turn around and find another way.” She shared a look with me as though the memory of it was not that far off. “Not today, though. Thank goodness.”
A scruffy looking security guard waved at us as we neared Stage 4.
“Hey Phil,” Natalie greeted him. She climbed out.
“This way,” he said, his face flushed and full of tension.
With our kit in hand, Natalie and I followed Phil inside the vast stage. It reminded me of an enormous airport hangar, and was at least fifty feet high and filled with construction equipment. A crane was parked on the far side. Here and there were fake plants, old-looking bookcases, and even a chandelier on its side, all waiting to be organized by a set dresser.
Ten or so construction workers had gathered in the center, their gazes turned upwards at a man in overalls hanging from the ceiling. He dangled from a harness.
“Don’t open your mouth,” Natalie whispered to me as we neared. “In case he drips blood.”
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cringe.
“An ambulance is on its way,” Phil told Natalie.
“Thanks, Phil.” She turned to me. “In situations like this calling 911 is routine. This is fireman territory.” She looked back up at our dangling patient. “What’s his name?”
“Joe Bogle,” Phil said. “Apparently his harness snapped but his safety caught him.”
Natalie’s eyes widened, which revealed the seriousness of the situation.
From those around us there came hushed whispers.
Natalie addressed the crowd. “I need everyone to step back and wait over there.” She pointed to the stage entrance.
There was a slight hesitation from the men before they complied, shuffling away, realizing why she’d asked them to move. There was still the risk of Joe’s safety harness giving way.
Natalie looked around, seemingly assessing the safest place to stand. “Joe, are you hurt?”
“I hit my head,” he shouted down. “But I’m fine.”
“Don’t move,” she said. “Emergency services are on their way. We’ll have you down in no time.” She knelt beside the emergency kit and opened it, reaching in and withdrawing two pairs of examination gloves. She handed me a pair.
The wail of a fire truck grew closer.
Phil sidled up to me and asked, “You new?”
I gave a nod and then returned my attention to the ceiling, trying to ascertain if Joe was showing any sign of losing consciousness.
“Do you like going to the movies?” Phil asked me.
With a polite smile, I whispered, “I’m kind of busy.”
“You doing anything Saturday night?” he pushed. “Thought I’d get in there, you know, before anyone else.” He grinned.
I lowered my gaze, not sure whether to take him seriously or not.
There was an abandoned wrench a few feet to the left of Phil’s feet. I wondered if Joe had dropped it.
On kneeling to examine the wrench closer, I noticed a stain of fresh blood on the handle.
I called up to him. “Joe, do you have any cuts?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Six fireman, donning hard hats and wearing their yellow turnouts, stomped through the stage toward us. They carried numerous boxes of equipment, their calm demeanors revealing that this, just like any other emergency, would be taken in their stride.
There came a mutual sigh of relief the experts had arrived and the situation was under control.
“Forty-year-old,” Natalie began her report to the fire captain, gesturing upwards. “He’s hanging from his safety. No loss of consciousness. No apparent head, neck, or back injury.”
I reached for a small packet of gauze and, following a hunch, tracked the minuscule droplets of blood leading off across the floor.
Behind a fake wall was a vision that was in striking contrast to the dusty stage. A lavishly decorated living room with velvet wallpaper and long, green curtains. A flat screen television faced a leather couch. It looked like a sitting room had been picked up and dropped in here.
A moan rose from behind the back of the couch. I moved in closer to better see.
Lying along it was a middle-aged man dressed in overalls, his work boots resting on the armrest. He appeared to be asleep. There was a trickle of blood on his forehead.
I stepped back and called out to Natalie. “Joe’s hammer hit someone on the way down.” Quickly, I returned to the unconscious worker’s side, relieved to find a pulse. “Sir, can you hear me?” I dabbed the gauze gently over his bloody forehead.
He opened his eyes drowsily.
“I’m a nurse,” I said.
He frowned, blinking his confusion.
Natalie was soon beside me. “What’s your name?”
“Why?” he said.
“We think you got hit by a hammer,” Natalie told him.
“Explains my headache.” He moaned.
She reached for his ID. “Fred. Paint department.”
I pulled out my pocket pen flashlight and swept it across his eyes. “Pupils are equal and reactive to light.”
“Good,” Natalie said. “Fred, who’s the president?”
“Why?”
“I’m checking to see if you’re orientated,” she explained. “Don’t say Lincoln.”
“Lincoln.” Fred winked.
Natalie wasn’t fazed. “What’s today’s date?”
“Friday?” he said. “The first.”
“Month?” she said.
“It’s...March?” Fred sat up and viewed the crowd gathering around him.
I placed a band-aid over the laceration on his forehead and turned to Natalie and said, “Looks like a concussion.”
“Yes. Hear that Fred? You’re suffering from the effects of being hit on the head. You’re going to the hospital to get checked out.” She turned to face the fireman who’d joined us.
I stepped aside, giving the paramedics room to take over and continue with Fred’s care. “Have they got Joe down yet?” I asked.
“His feet are safely on the ground,” Natalie said. “Not so much as a scratch, though his ego’s a tad bruised.” She gestured toward Fred. “Good catch, Piper.”
Had Fred not been found in time, he may very well have slipped into unconsciousness, and from Natalie’s expression she may very well have been thinking that as well.
“Piper,” she said, “we could do with a team member like you. I can see you fitting in perfectly.”
And for the first time in my nursing career, I felt that too.
CHAPTER 4
Ellie sat quietly in the passenger seat of my Beetle, staring out the window, daydreaming.
It was nice spending a precious Sunday afternoon together. With me starting a new job and Ellie’s limitless auditions, it was making synchronizing our schedules challenging.
It was good to see her, but not like this.
Ellie dapped away
fresh tears with the tissue I’d given her, having found a spare one in the glove compartment.
I reached over and gave her shoulder a squeeze before returning my hand to the wheel and making a left on Victory.
“I’d been trying on wedding dresses,” Ellie confessed, her voice wavering with emotion. She dapped her nose with the tissue.
Though Ellie had only been dating Gabe for three months, I knew where she was coming from. After all, I too had let my imagination run wild just last week during a blind date that Ellie had set up.
Normally I wouldn’t have agreed to a dinner date with a complete stranger, but Ellie had insisted Roland Raleigh was quite a catch.
During our first dinner together, after getting over the initial shock of Roland’s receding hairline and missing teeth, I’d smiled politely at his unfunny jokes and delicately placed small mouthfuls of food onto my fork, pretending I always ate like that. While sipping my small glass of Chardonnay, I’d sized him up for potential husband material, wondering if my friends would like him, not to mention my mother.
When the conversation lulled, my thoughts drifted further as I wondered what kind of father Roland would make. Before we’d even chosen dessert, I’d mulled over whether Piper would go well with Raleigh.
Later that night, when I’d come to my senses and my self-esteem had somehow found its way back to me, I’d asked Ellie, “What the hell were you thinking?”
“He’s a doctor,” she explained, straight-faced. “Well, a chiropractor. And you’re always complaining about your sore back.”
Though I questioned her logic I’d soon forgiven her, but made a mental note never to allow Ellie to set me up with a man ever again.
Her revelation that she’d been trying on wedding dresses stunned me, not least because I wasn’t sure about Gabe being ‘the one,’ but also because I should have been with her.
Wasn’t that an unspoken rule amongst best friends?
My expression must have been asking that very question, because Ellie said, “I was confused.” She scooted down in her seat. “I knew you wouldn’t approve.”
Ellie was right of course. I had no argument there.
Of all Ellie’s boyfriends I’d liked Gabe the least, mainly because of the way he frequently stood her up when she’d arranged to meet him somewhere. On those rare occasions when he actually turned up, say, for a dinner date, Ellie paid for everything, every time.
Piper Day's Ultimate Guide To Avoiding George Clooney Page 3