Like Real People Do

42. Don't Think Twice It's Alright

TW: Substance Abuse (Alcoholism) 

I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind. You could have done better, but I don't mind. You just kinda wasted my precious time, but don't think twice, it's alright -Bob Dylan

Sunday, October 24th

Natalie worked late shifts once a month. It wasn't pleasant, but she could hardly complain. The ER was understaffed and overworked on a good day, a sporadic late night here and there was the least of her worries. Tonight, at least she was lucky enough to finally be a single woman in the eyes of the law, or rather she would be soon once the court approved it all. Her attorney had seen to the signed divorce papers the day previous, so not even the night shift could bring her mood down. On top of that, she was scheduled with Anne, who was a pleasure to work with even if she wasn't your fiancé. Despite the long, terrible hours and gruesome things that rolled through this emergency department, Anne never stopped smiling. So far, she'd seen a steady stream of the usual cases for a Sunday night. A laceration here and there, a chest pain complaint or two, nothing that was out of the ordinary for her small hospital at night.

She stepped out of a patient room with a sigh, disposing of her latex gloves in the trash can at the door. Now, during the last 30 minutes of her 12-hour shift, Natalie was finally starting to feel herself crash. The hospital was exhausting, but it was still hers. She'd worked for this, she earned this, and she was happy no matter how tired she was. She wiped the sweat off her hands on the pants of her blue scrubs as she strode past the doctor's station to get another cup of coffee for the ride home. Anne, who Natalie had seen perk up at the sight of her, stood and jogged to catch up with her.

"Hey," Anne said, laying a hand on Natalie's shoulder to turn her around. Her face was creased with a rare frown, brows furrowed and eyes full of worry. "Are you going home right now? I think it's probably a good time for you to get out of here." Natalie looked at her, confused, and double checked her watch to make sure that she had the time right.

"Oh Anne, please don't worry about me. I'm tired, but I'm fine. I only have a half hour left." She patted Anne's hand and flashed a reassuring smile. "I'm going to grab some coffee in the break room now to wake up a little bit."

"It's not that." She squeezed her shoulder in her hand while trying to find the right words to say. "Maybe just stay away from triage for a little bit."

"What? Why? What's in triage?" Now, Natalie was hopelessly lost. She'd seen all manner of blood, guts, and vomit- any bodily fluid someone could think of in every possible place. She was no stranger to the horrors that came through triage and to their patient beds, and Anne was well-aware of her exceptionally strong stomach for it. What could possibly be so bad that she was trying to spare her from it? Anne glanced over her shoulder, and leaned in close to whisper discreetly in Natalie's ear.

"I think your ex-husband just got brought in by an ambulance." Natalie stopped dead in her tracks and looked at Anne in disbelief. Shane couldn't be here on the one night shift she had to work per month after she'd finally put that matter to rest.

"Anne, elaborate?" Anne winced and glanced back in the direction of the patient rooms behind them.

"It's not pretty," she mumbled.

"It never is," Natalie shot back. "Just hit me with it, I can take it."

"Alcohol poisoning and near-drowning," Anne relented. "He's getting admitted for sure. He's hypoxic, hypothermic, unresponsive, his heart rate is irregular, a couple of broken ribs. They're almost definitely going to have to pump his stomach and intubate him..." she trailed off and shook her head. "It's a fucking mess, Natalie." Natalie stared at Anne open-mouthed, having been floored the second she started speaking. She wasn't even sure why she was surprised. He was a mess the day she left, why wouldn't he still be a mess almost six years later? She always feared that he'd drink himself to death one day- it was only a matter of time.