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.

***