by H A Dawson
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Trampling Broken Sticks
Chapter 1
The thought of going into work filled me with abject dread and caused a sickly feeling to gather in my stomach. It wasn’t because I hated my job, quite the contrary. I loved working as a nurse in the oncology department at the hospital and found it every bit as satisfying as how I’d dreamed it would be as a little girl. But not today. During my last shift a few days ago, one of my patients died. Apparently, a medication error was to blame and since I was the one who’d been on administrative duty, the fault was, apparently, mine.
Driving into work, I passed Kelly, my housemate and best friend, a troubled sidelong glance. Sensing my agitation, she responded with a sympathetic stare and touched my hand in a consoling gesture. I tried to appear appreciative, but my face remained scrunched and my body tight. Then I returned my focus to the road.
‘It will be okay, Ebony,’ she said. ‘You’re a conscientious nurse with a good record. It won’t be your fault.’
‘So why did Maureen die of an overdose? I followed the procedure. I know I did. It was the right patient, the right medication and dose, the right route and time. I know my job!’ I expelled air. ‘I can’t have made a mistake. I just can’t!’
‘And that’s what you told Sheila, your manager. It will be all right. Anton must have got his facts wrong.’
Anton was my colleague and friend, and he’d forewarned me of the situation the previous day. I couldn’t believe he would have told me the news out of spite or if there was the slightest chance that he had been misinformed; he’d told me to prepare me for the worst. I shared my thoughts.
Kelly disagreed. ‘I still say he could have misheard. It’s unlikely that he was involved in the conversations directly, he—’
‘Please stop. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, really I do, but the mistake is mine and I’m going to have to face up to it.’
She did not reply, allowing my contemplations to continue. The thought of ending a patient’s life was abhorrent and went against everything I believed in, and it ruled my mind and prevented my clear thinking. Hence, I pulled out of a junction and almost hit an oncoming car. The screech of wheels and the sight of the other car heading straight for me, although ultimately swerving past me, continued to haunt me as I continued my journey to the hospital. I knew I had to get a grip on my emotions for both our sakes, and did my best to put it from my mind until I’d parked the car in the hospital car park.
Kelly broke the strained silence. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but medication errors happen. Most of the time the penalty is not severe.’
‘Most of the time patients don’t die!’
‘Perhaps it’s a coincidence. Maureen might have died anyway. You did say she was very ill with a prognosis of weeks rather than months or years.’
‘It’s a nice thought …’
‘There’s every chance you’re worried about nothing.’
‘And there’s every chance I’m not! I agree I’ve been under a great deal of stress recently, but this is different. It’s huge. I can’t avoid worrying.’
Not only had my boyfriend ended our relationship, but also my sister had fallen out with me because I hadn’t invited her to accompany me to a concert. I was undergoing trying times and had been for a few weeks. Yet despite that, I still didn’t believe I had administered my patient with an excessive amount of morphine. I wasn’t absent-minded or careless even in my worst state. I was thorough in all I did, and meticulous, too.
Kelly caught my attention. ‘I agree, you have been stressed—’
‘With every right! This is the last thing I needed. I don’t need to lose my job as well as my boyfriend and sister!’
‘I highly doubt it will come to that.’
‘No?’ I cast a dark stare. ‘I was warned last week for working under the influence of alcohol, as well you know. They’re bound to take that into account.’
She held a sad stare.
I ran my hand through my hair. ‘Why is this happening? First the alcohol and now this.’ I exhaled a breath of air. ‘You do believe I’m innocent on both counts, don’t you?’
‘Of course, I do. I know you only had one glass of wine the night before. I was with you, remember?’
I forced a smile. ‘So why did I feel like I’d drunk much more?’
‘I admit that was a bit odd.’
‘Normally I can drink a whole bottle and no one is any the wiser. Not that I ever would.’
She did not comment.
‘And how could they say I smelled of alcohol? All I’d had was a couple of juices from the hospital bar all day!’ I shook my head. ‘Someone has it in for me, I swear.’
‘You’re just going through a bad phase, you’ll see.’ She unclipped her seatbelt. ‘We’d better get inside.’
Reluctantly, I did as instructed and we walked into the hospital. Kelly worked in the Ear, Nose and Throat department, and our shifts rarely matched so it was nice to have her company for a change. My rant had also relieved me of a little of my tension. However, once we’d parted company, my nervousness gathered and my body tensed once more. I couldn’t tolerate the thought of what was before me and continued to walk to my floor on shaky legs.
My first task was to place my belongings in a locker, after which I progressed through the handover routine with the departing nurse. I didn’t see Sheila, the Nurse Manager, and was able to immerse myself in my work soon after. Yet I remained on tenterhooks and jerked each time someone passed by the wards fearing they were coming to tell me of the consequences of my actions. It was a horrid feeling, and as crazy as it sounded, I started to wish Sheila would appear, so we could speak. Then it would be over.
It didn’t happen and my unease remained. Hence, I found myself looking for signs of things being different. I believed that the other nurses were keeping their distance from me and that our usual jovial banter was lacking, and I noticed some of my usual tasks were no longer mine. Was I being paranoid? It would be the lesser of the two evils. Regrettably, I sensed all the changes taking place around me were real and happening due to my imminent suspension.
Since I continued to be without answers, I progressed with my work, and in between tasks caught sight of one of the patients that I’d developed a strong affinity with over recent weeks. Her name was Lauren Jenkins; she had developed a rare type of squamous cell cancer and was looking subdued and morose. Her situation put my problems into perspective.
I approached her bed. ‘I’ve heard they should be letting you go home soon. That’ll be nice, won’t it?’
‘I’d rather be here.’
‘Surely not. You don’t get much privacy on the ward. Wouldn’t you prefer to be in your own bed and close to those you care about?’
‘Not really. I don’t have any friends.’
I hesitated, deciding how to respond. I remembered one person visiting her over the last couple of weeks, and he’d appeared infrequently and never stopped more than five minutes. Also, she didn’t seem to have any family, although I had spotted her gazing longingly at a photo of a teenage boy on more than one occasion. Was he her son?
I decided to progress with my interrogation ‘What about family?’
She shrugged. ‘There’s no one who cares for me.’
I pitied her response although I chose not to say so, fearing it would only exacerbate the situation in her mind. Instead, I decided to adopt a more positive approach and commented on the man I’d seen visit. She told me his name was Glenn Tryst then added that he was not a friend and not even an ac
quaintance. I considered it a puzzling comment to make, but despite my trying, I couldn’t get her to elaborate on the nature of their relationship. Instead, she gazed with glassy eyes into the middle of the room and refused to answer my comments.
Her situation engendered deep sorrow within me. It was bad enough that she was terminally ill; it was worse that she had no one to spend her final days with and no one who could provide her with momentary joy. Had she done something to be deserving of such a situation or was she a victim of circumstance? More than likely, it was the latter and the random nature of misfortune.
‘Will you have someone to look out for you when you go home?’ I asked. ‘A neighbour perhaps?’
‘I don’t need anyone. I’m used to being alone.’
I passed her a sad stare.
‘Anyway, I don’t plan on being around for long.’
‘You shouldn’t give up hope. I heard the doctor saying you could have a few months if you take the medication he’s prescribed. It would be good to try to make it worthwhile.
‘I won’t have months. He’s wrong.’
‘That might be true but I prefer to be optimistic. It is only a guess and it could be even longer.’
‘Lucky me!’
‘And your name has been forwarded for any suitable drugs trials that come along. You never know, you might be contacted sooner rather than later.’
‘Do you honestly think Lady Luck favours me?’ Her stare was harsh. ‘She cast me aside years ago. Up until then, I had it all—a wonderful husband and son, my dream job, lots of money, friends … you name it, I had it. I was the happiest woman alive.’ She paused. ‘How life can change so quickly and completely is beyond me.’
‘I admit getting cancer is rotten luck.’
‘You don’t know the half of it, but you know what’s worst of all? I deserve all the crap that’s come my way—every last bit of it.’
I frowned, willing her to elaborate.
‘Anyway, what’s it matter now? I’ve made my decision. I’ll soon be gone of this world and you know what?’ She paused and glanced at movement at my rear. ‘It’s not going to be this crappy disease that beats me! The final decision will be mine.’
I was about to comment when Sheila, my manager, appeared at my rear displaying a stern expression. It was enough to cause my heart to pound, my stomach contents to rise to my throat and my body to quake.
‘I need to see you in my office,’ she said in a quiet voice.
I nodded and gulped, and when Shelia departed, I glanced back at Lauren. I feared my patient had just admitted to me that she was considering suicide, and I had to act. I couldn’t ignore her, but at the same time, I couldn’t ignore Sheila who was standing by the door of the ward willing me forward.
‘I’m fine,’ Lauren said. ‘You go.’
I was too distressed to comment, and regarded her with appreciation and hurried from her bed. As soon as Sheila noticed me making my departure, she continued away. Quaking and terrified, I followed in her trail stepping straight into Glenn, her acquaintance, en route to the ward. Grateful for his timely presence, I passed him an anxious glance and continued to the office.
Sheila prepared me privately for what was about to happen before we were joined by others. Aside from someone more senior to her, a representative from Human Resources was present as was someone from my union. I was too anxious to take note of their names or respond to their fake smiles, and sank into a chair singularly placed on one side of the table whilst they sat at the other. As I remained in a stiff pose, Sheila explained the reason for the meeting and offered me a plan detailing how it would progress. She asked us all if we had any questions then turned to me for my answer. Since my nervousness had stolen my voice, I shook my head.
My mind was too much of a blur to absorb the details of the meeting, but I understood enough to know that I was to blame for administering an overdose of morphine and for negligence in failing to react to the signs of the overdose in the patient. Less seriously, on more than one occasion I had been working under the influence of alcohol. My suspension from work was immediate.
The accusations were intolerable, causing my tremors to deepen, tears to sting my eyes and my lower lip to wobble. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and gasped and moaned multiple times during the process. I might have tried to defend myself had I not been in shock, but I was too stunned to form coherent sentences. When I did try, my words came out in a garble and a whine and it resulted in their sympathetic stares.
I hated their false support and wanted to run. Instead, I remained frozen to my chair in my very own version of hell and continued to listen to their meagre offerings. I’d always considered myself a conscientious person, so much that I believed I could be a little too cautious in my approach to serious situations and made notes and checked and double-checked everything I did. I hated making errors and being criticised for misdemeanours; fundamentally, I hated doing wrong and took pride in my fastidious behaviour.
It was inconceivable to think I had made a monumental error and believed it to be wholly out of character. I also considered their accusations deplorable and started to defend myself with a little more vigour than I had done earlier, thus my voice raised to a pitiful screech as I denied any wrongdoing. Yet my histrionics proved futile. I was being suspended from work due to my misdemeanours and would have a chance to speak some more at a hearing to be held in due course.
The action they were taking was unacceptable and even though I believed the meeting was over, I didn’t wish to leave. The moment I walked out of the room, my job as a nurse was finished. Perhaps if I stayed, I could persuade them to change their mind and listen to my viewpoint. Yet in reality, I was far too emotional to put forward a convincing argument and stared at the documents and papers on the desk that I was to take home, outlining my suspension from work, the procedure that would follow, and the options open to me.
‘Is there anything else we can help you with?’ someone said to me.
I gazed blindly at the row of faces, each of them trying to appear compassionate and helpful. Yet it was all lies. Had they felt such emotions, we wouldn’t be in this position. They would have considered the alternatives and listened to my take on the events. Instead, they had made their minds up without question and consideration, and they had taken decisive action.
‘It’s a clear-cut case,’ Sheila had said.
But it wasn’t to me. Having heard about Maureen’s death days earlier, and having been questioned about my involvement at a similar time, the situation had revolved so many times in my head that I knew exactly how much morphine I had administered and when I had done it. I had not made a mistake. Something else had happened, something I couldn’t fathom.
The Human Resources representative interrupted my thoughts and declared the meeting over. After that, the others started to depart, leaving me alone with Sheila.
‘I’m sorry it’s had to come to this,’ she said.
I almost believed she was speaking sympathetically. Then I remembered that she was the one who had put me in this position and offered her no reply, gathered the documents given to me on the desk, and started to leave.
‘If there’s anything I can do …’
I did not reply and hurried away. I was too ashamed to speak to any of the nurses on duty, and kept my head low and fought back my rising tears as I trotted to my locker for my belongings. Due to my distress, I fumbled with my key, struggled to make contact with the lock, and extracted my bag. Unfortunately, as I pulled it towards me, it fell to the floor, spilling the contents. Cursing my clumsiness, I dropped to my knees and scooped them up. Then, shame-faced, I grabbed my coat, ignoring a nurse standing close by, and ran from the room and the department.
I was progressing down the stairs when two people passing me by spoke in frantic voices.
‘She said she’s going to jump,’ one of them said. ‘She won’t listen to anyone. It’s …it’s horrid. We can’t talk her out of it.’
> ‘Will she talk at all?’
‘I’ve found out her name’s Lauren. That’s all she’s said. She’s adamant she’s going to jump. We don’t know what to do.’
At that, I spun back around and hurried towards them. After a brief exchange, it became clear that they were speaking about Lauren Jenkins, my patient, or rather my ex-patient. Apparently, she had positioned herself on the roof of the hospital building, on top of a high barrier.
She had warned me it would be soon over but I hadn’t expected it to be so soon.
I had to help her. Despite my own problems, I believed I had no choice.
Chapter 2
As we hurried up to the roof of the building, I questioned my need to be involved. I was far too emotional for clarity of thought and feared that I would say the wrong thing and cause Lauren to make a rash decision and jump from the roof. It was a horrendous thought, arousing my panic and slowing my steps.
My self-esteem and self-worth were so low that I didn’t believe I would be able to do or say anything more than the other people around her. Nevertheless, the alternative and to go home and potentially learn of her suicide was too horrid to bear. I had to do what felt like the right course of action to take, especially since I believed she had confided in me a couple of hours earlier and warned me of her decision.
Had I remained on the ward, I may have been able to prevent her making an escape to the roof. With hindsight, I should have told one of the other nurses of her comment and instructed them to keep guard, but in my defence, I believed Glenn was visiting, and despite what Lauren said about their relationship, I labelled him as a friend of sorts. So, what had happened? Had he said something to trigger her unwise decision? From what I had seen of him, he seemed a quiet man who acted unobtrusively; on the other hand, I had never seen them smile or share a joke. It was a puzzling relationship.