Redemption (3)

Dave was hovering over me like a mama bear. One of the other nurses had called him back downstairs when I'd thrown up. I appreciated it, but it was also irritating. I had my head between my knees to deal with the dizziness and could see his foot tapping. Not in impatience though. It was moving too quickly.

"Annie, two things-" He started. I held my hand up and waved him off. He passed a cool washcloth to me. I wiped my face, laid the facecloth on the desk and placed my cheek on it. I opened one eye to look at him. He was holding a syringe in one hand and something else in the other.

"Dave -" I started.

"Oh no, you're taking this Gravol." He pushed my sleeve up and swabbed my deltoid quickly before injecting the contents of the syringe into my arm.

"Ow. You suck at that."

"Cry me a river. Go lay down in the staff room. I'll drive you home on my break."

"I'm not sick, Dave."

"Annie, you know you can't stay at work if you've been puking." I took my facecloth and headed toward the staffroom, walking past Jake's room in the process. I leaned in the door.

"Just so you know, it wasn't because of you. I wasn't feeling so hot coming in tonight, and probably should have stayed home. I thought you were lovely in 'Home', but the dude who plays Thor is more my speed." I smiled weakly. Jake let out a bark of laughter.

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind while I'm considering who to allow to visit me."

"I hope your surgery goes well, Jake."

***

I awoke the next evening with the same nausea. Instead of avoiding eating, I made myself a cup of soup and ate some crackers and felt infinitely better. I debated calling in sick, but until the insurance came through, I had a mortgage to pay, and bills coming in. I had to truly be sick. I knew it wasn't a virus. I had no symptoms, no fever, and I'd only thrown up the one time.

While I showered, I weighed my options, and finally decided it would be a better plan to just go in to work. I just hoped we would be fully staffed.

Dave was waiting in the locker room, leaning against my locker when I arrived.

"Are you sure you aren't contagious?"

"No fever, no further episodes of vomiting, no other symptoms whatsoever. I'm tired, run down and feeling stressed. I think you remember how I was in nursing school." Dave had been in most of my classes through school. I'm quite sure he remembered by tendency to faint, barf and otherwise get physically ill any time I was stressed.

"I'll be watching you."

"I appreciate that, creepy nurse." I shoved him out of the way, and got ready for work. He handed me a cup of coffee as we headed into report.

"Dude's been asking for you, by the way."

"Who?" I asked, completely perplexed. Dave gave me the look. The one that asked, in one simple raised eyebrow, if I was a complete and utter moron. I wracked my brain. Surely he didn't mean the movie star.

"The actor?"

"None other. Apparently made the dayshift crazy. Wanted to know if you were okay. If you were working tonight. If you were married." He rolled his eyes, "That was understandably an awkward one for all of them."

"Whatever. I don't believe you."

***

His call bell was lit up right as report ended. I sighed and walked into his room.

"Mr. James?" I reached above his head and turned off the light. He smiled broadly.

"You must be feeling better."

"What did you need, Mr. James?" I tried to keep the flush from my cheeks, but just remembering the previous night was humiliating in the extreme.

"I'm glad to see you're back."

"Is that all?" I could see why he'd made Days crazy.

"Actually, I really don't feel too hot. They weren't able to do the surgery today, and I've been feeling crappy all afternoon."

"I'll see if you can have something for pain. I'll be right back, Mr. James." I turned to leave, but his hand found mine and stopped me.

"It's not pain. I feel weak." I narrowed my eyes and took a good look at him. His colour was crap. He was kind of sweaty. I dashed from the room and got an oxygen monitor. When I came back, I raised the head of the bed, and checked his oxygen levels. They were low. His heart rate was high.

"I'll be right back, Mr. James." I dashed out again to grab some oxygen tubing and called for Dave. I told him to page the doctor, and order a portable chest x-ray and get respiratory up STAT for arterial blood gases. Dave nodded and picked up the phone without a word. I hooked Jake up to the wall oxygen and kept the oxygen monitor on his finger. His pulse was slowly climbing, and his oxygen level was really not improving. I tapped my foot and stared out the door, checking his pulse with my fingers to double check. The doctor rounded the corner into his room and looked at me expectantly.

"I think he has an F.E. I've ordered ABGs and a portable chest x-ray, but I think you should move him downstairs." The doctor looked at the oxygen monitor, nodded and left the room.

"What's going on?" Jake asked. I was cut off from answering by the x-ray tech coming in, and shooing me out of the room. I waited outside the door, and reentered with the respiratory tech.

"Okay, Mr. James -" I started.

"Please just call me Jake. I've been telling you that since you came on." He interrupted. I blanched but continued.

"Jake. This is Mike, from respiratory. They're the keep you breathing people. He's going to give you this crazy looking oxygen mask and get you perked up. I have to go talk to the doctor. I'll explain everything else when I get back, okay?" I waited for his answer. He nodded, and looked over to Mike, who was hooking up the crazy Star Wars mask. I headed to the doctor.

"He's getting confused. His temperature is up to 39.6. His pulse is 154 and getting erratic and his sats are down to 61%. You need to move him before he codes." Jake had a fat embolism. I was not allowed to diagnose, but I knew that was what it was. It sometimes happened with fractures and breaks of the long bone in the leg. The doctor nodded.

"The ICU has a bed free, can you take him down?" He handed me the chart. I turned and headed back into Jake's room. I spoke while I unplugged his bed and kicked the brake.

"Jake, we're moving you to a different ward, and I'm going to explain why. We think you've got what's called a fat embolism, which happens when the marrow escapes from the long bones. It causes all kinds of exciting things, like the high pulse, and low oxygen, which is why you feel like crap right now. You following me?" I tugged the bed out from the wall, and steered it toward the door. Dave fell in at the foot of the bed and helped me move down to the elevator. Jake nodded.

"It's also making you confused, and can put your lungs and heart at risk. So as a precautionary measure, we're taking you down to the ICU, and your doctor is going to make sure you are okay and fully safe to have that surgery. That means he might need to ventilate you. I don't know how familiar you are with medical terms, but that means he might need to put a tube down your throat."

Jake's eyes widened and he said something, but I didn't catch it through his oxygen mask. He pulled it away.

"You need to stay with me."

"Jake, I work on surgery. I'm not trained as an ICU nurse. They're much more capable of taking care of you." I put the mask back down on his face. He shook his head and grabbed at my hand, again speaking into the mask.

"I'll get you settled, okay?" I offered. He sighed but wouldn't let go of my hand, which made pushing the bed kind of awkward once the elevator stopped. One of the ICU nurses was waiting for us and helped us get him into the unit. We transferred him into the ICU bed and I quickly gave report. Jake reached for me again as I was talking to the ICU nurse. I rested my hand on his bed rail, and his fingers closed around mine briefly, then slacked and shook a little. Both the ICU nurse and I turned in time to see his eyes roll back in his head as he began to convulse.

Redemption (2)

Life was beginning to get back to normal. At least, what I knew would be normal from now on. I was still having problems sleeping, and eating really held no appeal. When I was able to look at the bright side of things, I joked with friends that I'd finally lost that 20 pounds I'd been chasing since finishing nursing school. But I didn't make the joke often because that twenty pounds had come at such a high expense.

I dressed for work slowly. I was starting to get used to always feeling tired and run down. Where I'd previously never worn make-up at work, I found that if I didn't at least cover the dark circles under my eyes my co-workers commented, so putting on 'my face' before shifts had become commonplace for me. I looked in the jewelry dish on the bathroom counter and decided against putting on the chain that had held my wedding band for as long as I'd been working. It was a small step, but I needed to start putting Danny to rest. A wave of nausea hit me, and made me think I was making myself sick from betraying Dan's memory.

I hurried myself out the door rather than dwell on the thought. When I'd taken my position, I was so excited to get a full-time line that I hadn't realized that 3/4s of my shifts were nights. I was beginning to feel like I'd never see the sun again. So much so that I'd taken to counting shifts until I was back on days. Two more, then 3 days off, then back to days again. It lightened my mood, and put the nausea out of my mind.

***

I closed my locker door and came face to face with Dave. He was making this dorky scowly face that he always made when 'shit went south'. I sighed.

"What?"

"I'll flip you for it." He held out a quarter and didn't explain. I laughed and shook my head.

"Oh hell no, David! I'm not falling for that!" I pushed his hand away. He chuckled and shrugged.

"You can't fault me for trying. Listen, they need a float to Medicine tonight. Either way we're both working short." The Medicine unit was chronically short staffed. Our staff were frequently borrowed to staff the unit. I shook my head.

"No way. I'd rather work Surgery short."

"There's 2 post op admissions coming?" He was trying to sweeten the pot, but I hated working on Medicine with a burning passion that had only become worse since Danny's death. I didn't care if I was run completely threadbare, I wasn't going to the Medicine unit, and told Dave as much. His eyes widened with understanding and he handed me the quarter.

"And you're also in-charge." He ran out of the locker room before I could change my mind.

***

By 10:30, I was wishing I'd taken the Medicine float. It was insanely busy. Everyone on the unit had picked up extra work, and we were still just barely finishing assessments by 11. I flew through my meds as quickly as I safely could. I was just hanging the last IV med when the phone at the nursing station started ringing. My patient was a sweet old lady who'd had complications from a hip replacement, and she was chatty. And she loved me, for no reason I could understand. I was counting rings in my head while she recounted her day to me. I nodded and placed my hand on hers as the phone rang for the 14th time.

"I'm sure you did wonderfully - physio said they thought you'd improved a great deal, Mrs. T. You'll be running marathons by the end of the year." I slipped out of the room as she started to laugh, and dashed to the desk.

"6 Northwest, Surgery. Annie speaking."

"Annie! It's Jane. I know you are swamped up there, but we have an admit that needs a private room. Fractured femur." The nursing supervisor sounded apologetic.

"We're full. Can't you place the patient in an off-service bed until the morning?" Off-service beds were empty beds on other units. Every unit in the hospital took off-service patients on an as needed basis.

"He needs a private on surgery. He's a VIP, and you guys are the top floor. So even if he wasn't surgical you'd be getting him."

"A VIP? I'm lost, Jane. You're going to have to explain." This was Canada. You didn't just get a private room because you were important. At least, you weren't supposed to.

"Well, you know how they're filming that movie with Richard Bishop here?" Rich Bishop had been my favourite actor when I was a little girl. Now he reminded me of my dad, mostly because they're the same age.

"Yeah?" I gasped, "Wait! Did Richard Bishop break his leg?" My heart pounded with excitement and dread.

"No, one of the other actors. Allan James. I've never heard of him. But apparently we have to give him a private room, and it's gotta be on Surg." Jane sounded frustrated.

"Let me look at the board." I leaned around the corner so I could see the patient board in the report room. Almost no one was good to be moved off the floor. I chewed my lip and thought.

"Annie? Are you there?"

"Yeah. Uh, we have an 18-year-old post-op day 2 Appy that could move down to Medicine, and I can move the guy in the private into that room." I offered.

"I will have a porter to you in five minutes. Housekeeping will be right behind him." Jane hung up.

I went and woke the kid up and helped him pack up his things. He refused to take the wheelchair that the porter offered, and instead they walked out talking hockey. True to Jane's word, housekeeping was waiting to get into the room. As the room was cleaned, I got the other patient ready to move into it. As soon as he was settled, housekeeping started on the private room.

No sooner had we finished moving the other patients around than my new patient arrived. I followed the stretcher into the room, and helped the ER nurse boost him across into the bed. She flipped through his chart and gave me a short report.

"Sorry to run, Annie, we are slammed downstairs!" She handed the chart over and ran out of the room. I flipped through the history quickly, and found the admission form.

"Hi Mr. James. I'm Anna, I'm one of the nurses on tonight. While I give you a quick assessment, can you tell me what happened?" I started with the left leg, which was the injured one. His toes were a little pale and quite cool to the touch, but they were also kind of pruney, like they'd been wet. And since there was about a foot of snow outside, I suspected they were cold and pale because they'd been in wet shoes all day.

"We were shooting this scene where my character gets into a bar fight. It was the fight scene, outside in the parking lot. And I slipped on the ice, and fell. I tried to stand back up, and that totally didn't work. Is there any chance I can get a bed-bath or something? I'm filthy and cold. I don't mean that to sound all lewd. I'm just - I've been stuck in wet, dirty clothes since I came into the ER, and I've got a load of make-up on too. I can do most of it, if you can just help me get out of these clothes." He was rambling. I flipped open the chart, and noted how much morphine he'd had. No wonder he was rambling.

"Of course, Mr. James. I'd be happy to help you out as soon as I finish up checking you over." I smiled and looked up at his face for the first time. No kidding he was filthy. There had to be a pound of make-up 'dirt' all over his face, and a few days of stubble. He was a mess.

"Please call me Jake." His voice was incredibly familiar. It made sense, if he was an actor. He'd probably done a lot of voice over work to make ends meet before landing this film with Richard Bishop.

"Jake? I thought your name was Allan?" I looked back at the chart to make sure. It said Allan.

"My first name. I've always gone by Jake." My gaze shot back up to his face and I dropped the chart.

"Holy shit. You're Jake Jameson." The nausea that had been bothering me before work resurfaced. I grabbed the side rails of the bed and blinked away the spots in front of my eyes, then dashed out of the room and threw up in the garbage can outside the door.

"Wow. I've seen women react a lot of ways to me, but I've never seen one puke before." He called out of the room.

***

Redemption

It was my first shift back to work since the accident and I felt disjointed. My movements were awkward and stiff, my brain flitted like a magpie from thought to thought. I couldn't get my bearings. It had only been a few weeks, but it was enough that I felt like I couldn't remember half of what I'd always known, and I felt like a danger. As I tapped yet another medication into my drug guide app, my eyes welled up with tears. I blinked a few times, then dashed them away with the back of my hand and reached for the small box of kleenex on the back of the med cart.

"Relax, Annie. Deep breaths." Dave's hand ran across my shoulders. I couldn't have asked for a better partner on my first night back. He was always calm, always collected. And always quick to make a joke at his own expense. He was one of the best nurses I'd ever worked with.

"I'm sorry, Dave, I just feel so-"

"Lost, I get it. Do you want me to give your meds?" He interrupted. I didn't though. I knew if I gave up now, I'd quit and never come back. I shook my head and he turned away and sat back down at the nursing station. My assessments had been so much smoother than the meds were going. The instinctive memory of assessing my patient had always taken over, and tonight was no exception. But when it came to giving the medications, my brain just wasn't ready to be back at work. It was a weird disconnect. I refocused myself and went back to preparing the antibiotic IV medication for my patient. I was so intent on my task, I barely moved when the code alarm rang. It was for a different unit and I noticed as the tension melted out of my shoulders.

I took the bag of medication into the patient's room and set it up to run. He smiled weakly and thanked me before I turned and left. As I walked out of the room, I bumped into another patient. I put my hand out to stabilize him, but he was obviously getting close to discharge, as he was solid, and strong. His arm wrapped around my waist to hold me up instead. I looked up, startled, and then relaxed into the arm. It was Jack. He'd been Dan's best friend. The accident that had stolen my husband away from me had nearly stolen Jack as well.

"Jack! You look ready to leave." I was surprised. He'd only been moved out of the ICU a week ago.

"Doc says if I keep moving, and my pain keeps off, I can go home by the weekend."

"That's wonderful news! Mara must be so happy!" Jack's wife was approaching her due date, with twins. Jack needed to be home and functional before she went into labour.

"To say happy would be an understatement. How are you managing?" His eyebrows wrinkled together as he asked. I knew it was a combination of concern and dread that was causing the furrow.

"It's going okay. The insurance has been really fast, and the lawyers are really pushing to get this settled right away. The inspector said it was pretty straightforward, so it shouldn't get held up, which is good."

"Yeah, I heard that the investigation had wrapped up. But how are you doing? You look tired."

"I'm not sleeping really well. Every time I fall asleep, I relive the whole night again. I saw the counsellor the chief recommended, and that's sort of helping. I'm sure it's worse for you." I wasn't the one who'd watched his best friend die doing the job they both loved.

"I'm fortunate enough to be getting very strong drugs at night. And I won't ever be going back to work in a fire hall, so that's some pressure off. Chief's already been in to let me know I'm go for inspector training."

"That's fantastic news."

"I loved my job. And I loved working with Danny. I'm worried about you, Annie."

"Thanks. But don't. I'll get through this." I pulled away from him and squeezed his hand before I walked back to the nurses station. Jack looked ten years older. Dan had landed on top of him when they'd fallen, so his burns were mostly on his hands, and they looked so good. It was hard to believe he and Dan had been in the same accident, in the same fire. It was a blessing that Danny had died. There was almost nowhere on my husband that hadn't been eaten away by the flames.

I sat down and dropped my head into my hands. I wasn't sure I was going to get through it. I knew my life would never be the same. I was a widow, and I was 31 years old. Who did that even happen to? I mean, other than me? Dave rubbed my neck.

"Are you sure you want to stay? You don't have to. You can come back once Jack's discharged," he offered.

"Dave, Jack was my husband's best friend. I can't spend the rest of my life avoiding him."

"I didn't say the rest of your life. Dude has discharge orders for day after tomorrow. You can come back for your next set."

"I appreciate what you're saying, Dave, but I'm fine." I blew my nose, and wiped my eyes, and set about finishing my night duties.

***

Intro

I need to write. I need to write stories. It's always been a part of me, and I need to make sure it stays that way. I love to read, and I used to see the story as I read the book. And from there, I would think about the stories I wanted to tell, and one thing let to another. I've written an asston of crap in my life. But sometimes I am brilliant.

I'll never be consistently brilliant or crap if I do not practice my craft. So here we go.

I've been thinking a lot about what it would be like to be completely average and surrounded by superheroes. I think because I fell hard back into a superhero fangirl this year with the emergence of the awesome of the Avengers. I was always a Thor fan when I was a kid. My brother had a great comic book collection when I was super little, and I loved to sneak down to his room in the morning and sit on him in his bed and 'read' his comics. He was big into Spiderman, but Thor was my guy. We both thought the Hulk was awesome. So the Avengers was my big squee of the spring, and ever since then, I've wondered what it would be like to be support staff to the S.H.I.E.L.D. folks. I don't know if I'm comfortable writing about that on here though because it's really fan-fic and I want to stick with mostly original ideas. But we'll see. I can't get the image of medic on that helicarrier out of my head.

Also, I think I'm likely to be really sporadic in my updates because that's apparently how I roll. But we'll see.