Temporary Pleasure

Dummy

"Could you take Jenny to Unit 4 and give her the usual? Then do the same for Bernard."

Amelia, the new practitioner, didn't even look at me when she spoke.

"Um—"

"Thanks. I know I can always count on you." She flashed a fake-ass smile before turning and walking away.

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck.

God, I fucking hate that bitch.

As soon as she turned her back, I flipped her off. One of the worst things about working in nursing—especially while still in school—is that your supervisors pawn off all the hard shit on you while they sit around pretending to be busy. It's bullshit. But whatever. Just three more years and I'll be licensed to administer anesthesia in surgery rooms. Then it's me giving orders.

I wheeled Jenny toward her room, trying to reset my attitude.

"Hey, Jenny. Ready for your sleep treats?" I smiled down at her.

No response.

Okay... that was weird. Jenny's usually chatty as hell.

I stepped to the head of her bed—and my heart dropped.

Foam and spit covered her lips. Her eyes were dull. She wasn't responding.

Panic surged through me. "CODE RED!" I yelled, immediately rolling her bed into the hall.

I paged Amelia.

"Amelia, I found Jenny unresponsive with foam at her mouth. When was the last time she was checked?"

...Silence.

Of course. This bitch is nowhere to be found.

"Okay, I'm calling 911," I said to no one in particular, paging her one last time just in case she actually decided to do her damn job.

Technically, supervisors are supposed to call 911. But Jenny could be dying—and I'm not about to let her. I've been in nursing for a few years now. I know what I'm doing. She's not okay, and I'm not waiting for protocol to cost someone their life.

After calling 911, I updated the other nurses on the unit. Then I rushed down to wait with Jenny by the ambulance entrance, my adrenaline still pounding.

That's when I heard it—stomping and heavy breathing like a damn angry elephant.

"Uhh—" I turned around.

Look who finally decided to show up.

Amelia.

"How could you call a fucking ambulance without notifying your supervi—"

I cut her off.

No one is about to raise their voice at me—especially when they're dead wrong.

"And where were you? I paged you four times. So yes, I did call 911."

I stared her down, heat crawling up my spine.

"I found Jenny foaming at the mouth. She hasn't been changed all day. When was the last time you checked on your unit before handing it over to me?"

Even the EMS workers had gone quiet. All eyes on her. And now—silence.

"I— I was running errands. I guess I lost track of my patients... That's my mistake."

Her voice was hollow, careless. Like this was just some little mix-up at Starbucks, not a matter of life or death. And that pissed me off more than I can explain.