Open

by Marcus Engel& Amy Vega

  Chapter 3

  “MEG.”

  “Hannah.”

  “JoAnn.”

  “Marjorie.”

  “Stefan.”

  “Alexis.”

  “Missy.”

  The rapid-fire introductions to her new colleagues on the critical care unit at Mercy Regional Hospital had Hope’s head spinning. They stood in a semi-circle around her, smiling politely as each shook her hand.

  “Don’t worry,” said Hannah, the nurse manager of the unit. “There won’t be a test on our names for a while!” Everyone laughed.

  “Nice to meet you all,” Hope said. Glancing at the crowd of smiling faces of her fellow nurses around her, she hoped that some, if not all of them, would become her friends as well.

  “JoAnn will be your preceptor,” said Hannah.

  “That’s me,” waved one of the nurses, with a friendly nod that sent her salt-and-pepper curls in motion. “If you’re ready to jump in, you can tag along with me right now. I’ve got to give meds to a patient down the hall.”

  “Sure,” Hope said, following at her heels into the patient’s room. “What’s the diagnosis?”

  “Congestive Heart Failure.”

  Hope frowned as her eyes settled on the elderly man in the bed. His skin was ghostly white; his body, emaciated; and his head was thrown back against the pillow. His mouth gaped open, and the muscles in his neck and chest visibly tensed each time he inhaled.

  She watched as JoAnn prepared an injection and administered it to the patient through his IV line.

  “Mr. Smith,” JoAnn said loudly to the patient, “Mr. Smith, I’m giving you some pain medication, okay?”

  Mr. Smith didn’t verbalize a response, but seemed to relax a bit. Whether it was the medication or just the presence of the nurses that calmed him, Hope couldn’t tell.

  “Morphine?” Hope asked.

  JoAnn nodded. “Yes. A low dose to keep from suppressing his breathing. We’ll need to monitor him closely until he’s moved.”

  “Moved?” Hope asked curiously. “Where to?”

  JoAnn met her eyes with a grave look. “He’s going to Hospice as soon as a bed is available.” The unspoken words hung between them.

  Hope felt an overwhelming sadness settle over her. What a bleak memory to make at the very beginning of her nursing career. She rested her hand over the patient’s arm, wondering if he was even aware of the touch, and if it would be any comfort to him. His skin was warm, she immediately noticed. Almost hot. Glancing at his bedside monitor, she was surprised to see that he didn’t have a fever.

  But as her own backside quickly began to warm, she realized that the sun blazing through the nearby window was to blame. She turned around and pulled the blinds closed.

  “Much better,” Hope said, as the space in which she stood began to cool almost instantly.

  JoAnn, who had looked away for a split second to inflate the patient’s blood pressure cuff, spun back around.

  “No!” she gasped. “Open them back up!”

  Hope literally jumped from the shock of JoAnn’s harsh tone. She pulled the cord to open the blinds once more. “I’m sorry, JoAnn,” she apologized, without knowing why.

  “Never do that,” JoAnn shook her head and exhaled loudly. “Never close the blinds on a patient like this.”

  Hope raised an eyebrow. “Like… what?” she asked cautiously.

  “Terminal,” JoAnn mouthed silently, sneaking a look to be sure Mr. Smith was still unconscious. She beckoned Hope out into the hall.

  “Look, I know this sounds crazy, but just listen for a minute. You have to leave the room open. The door must be open. The blinds must be open. It all has to be open so that when the time comes, his soul can be free to go.”

  Hope waited. Any minute now, JoAnn was going to laugh and say “gotcha,” or something along those lines; she was sure of it. This had to be one of those jokes that they played on new nurses. But after a long moment passed, and JoAnn didn’t so much as blink, Hope realized she wasn’t kidding.

  “I’m sorry,” Hope repeated. “I didn’t know.”

  “Well you know now,” JoAnn said, turning away. “You can’t trap a soul that needs to be free. You only close the blinds when the prognosis is good; only when the body is well enough for the soul to stay put. Understand?”

  Hope nodded, feeling a blush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks.

  “We all know in our heart of hearts that this is superstition, but I’m telling you, it works. I’ve seen it happen over and over again. I’m sorry I snapped at you, but after a while, you just start believing what you see on this job, okay?”

  “Okay,” Hope said softly.

  JoAnn nodded down the hallway. “We’ve got more patients to take care of this morning. Make sure you leave Mr. Smith’s door open on the way out.”