“All I know is Dr. Cole is on the warpath about it. He claims their rate of catheter complications is three times the national average.”
“That sounds like a fair assessment to me. What else do we have going on?”
Flipping through her notes, she frowned. “Air Life Line dropped a critically injured patient off earlier this evening. He’s built like a bodybuilder, covered in tattoos, and supposedly a real terror. The medics reported that they had to tranquilize him in order to provide basic lifesaving care while en route. Naturally, I assumed they were exaggerating, as they are prone to do. Then I read their report stating they had to sedate him not once, but twice during the flight. That was an imprudent choice for someone with a traumatic head injury, but I guess if your only other choice is them tearing the chopper up, you do what you’ve gotta do.”
“That sounds a little dramatic. Couldn’t they just strap him down?”
“I wasn’t there, so I don’t know. Mark my words, you are going to have your hands full with that one. He’s been unconscious thus far, but he’s due to wake up anytime. If I were you, I’d try to stay out of his reach.”
Tiffany nodded, appreciating the advice despite the obvious complication it presented. “I’m certain what you’re saying is true. However, it’s difficult to provide adequate care if I don’t get within arm’s reach. I need to be close enough to take vitals and administer medications. Speaking of which, does he have an IV?”
Looking down at her notes again, Stephanie answered succinctly. “IV therapy dropped a line as soon as he got here, so he’s fully hydrated. I noticed he’s been restless, so I’m betting it won’t be long until he wakes up.”
“Okay. I’ll be careful not to get myself mauled by him. Did his chem panel come back yet?”
“He’s negative for drugs, with the exception of marijuana.”
Typical. “Great. At least there is no danger of an amphetamine induced psychosis. You know those are always fun times.”
Her friend grinned at her off-color remark, knowing she meant just the opposite.
“He’s just one of several complex cases you’ll be facing tonight. You still have five other patients who are all fully conscious, and a couple of them are fairly demanding. We don’t have any beds open, so you’ll have every single one of them until they’re discharged or we find another hospital to accept them.”
Tiffany nodded. “At least we’re on diversion until further notice, and hopefully, it’ll keep them from cramming more in on us.”
Tiffany flipped through the charts, listening as Stephanie gave her a brief, incisive report on each of the remaining patients. As soon as her counterpart left, Tiffany got to work quietly visiting each of her patients, taking vitals, dispensing medications, and changing out bandages.
As the beginning of the shift wore on, doctors visited each patient, wrote orders, and the lab techs came to draw blood. One of her patients had a gunshot wound to the arm and a blood alcohol level of point ten percent. Handcuffing him to the bed was a safety precaution taken by the local law enforcement officer who brought him in. Charged with stabbing his wife during a domestic dispute, Elmer Oliver was clearly not only dangerous but a flight risk.
No matter how any times she asked him to refrain from yelling, he didn’t listen, as he was apparently hell bent on patching things up with his one and only true love. Barely resisting rolling her eyes, Tiffany stayed focused on writing her nursing notes, ignoring the rowdy man. The ER was always an exercise in patience.
In no time at all, Elmer’s drunken voice had gone from serenading his love to taking about how much he missed her. He was irritating and totally oblivious to everyone around him as he called for the woman in question.
“Eloise. Elllooiisseee. Answer me, woman.”
“What?” a sharp, raspy female voice answered, resonating off the walls, sounding less than pleased at being forced to answer him in such a public setting.
Once the woman spoke, Tiffany could discern some slurring of her words. Of course, neither of them were strangers to the staff at St. Mary’s. Their long-standing habitual drinking had instigated several drunken brawls between the two of them and lead to all kinds of injuries over the years. Consequently, Tiffany had been subjected to several stories about the couple by some of the more cynical staff. Try as she might, Tiffany simply wasn’t able to find the humor in their situation. Witnessing it in action now, it was as sad a situation as she’d imagined it to be.
The thoroughly intoxicated gentleman persisted in his drunken effort to get his woman to forgive him. He was persistent. Tiffany would have to give him credit for that much.
Causing a scene, he spoke loudly as he yanked on his cuffs, a horrible metal on metal scraping sound. “Where are you? I can’t see you no more, sweetness.”
When the woman didn’t answer, his voice became deeper and more desperate. “Talk to me, baby. I need to hear your sweet voice.”
Undoubtedly caving in to his drunken charm, her voice softened. “I’m over here, honey bear. They won’t let me come and see you.”
Immediately, he responded with an overt and obvious attempt to gain the poor woman’s full sympathy again. “Eloise, I love you. Baby, they got me cuffed to the fuckin’ bed like I’m some kind of a criminal.”
There was some muffled laughter from the employees and other patients at the man’s childish attempts to curry favor through a bizarre mixture of inducing pity right alongside an open declaration of love.
However oblivious his awkward attempts were to the staff, his wife fell for it rather quickly. “Oh, honey bear, you ain’t no criminal.”
“They’re fuckin’ laughing at me, baby. You know how I hate that shit.”
“Elmer, don’t pay them no mind. Just keep talkin’ to me. You know, you’re my very own honey bear.”
“Oh hell, baby.” There was short, pregnant pause, leading Tiffany to think something truly profound was about to come out of the man’s mouth. “I know I stabbed you and you shot me, but can’t we just call it even?”