Doctor's Orders

3. Medical Error

I was finishing up my second set of three 12-hour shifts in a row. I was feeling pretty successful having worked two weeks in the ER and having treated a wide variety of patients. I was getting the hang of this nursing thing; I knew in my gut that I'd chosen the right career. My shifts had been pretty uneventful, with only a few minor corrections from supervising nurses or doctors, but lots of positive feedback. 

The only person, it seemed, who never saw fit to give me any kind of encouragement was Dr. Styles. Oh, he gave me plenty of feedback, but it was always some "constructive" criticism. Exactly one time, I walked out of a room without sanitizing my hands, which Dr. Styles witnessed, and it prompted him to give me a three-minute lecture about the safety of our patients. That may not seem like a long time, but it felt like forever when I knew that every single patient needed me right now. He snapped at me once for calling him to discuss a patient's medication change, but I didn't have all the information in front of me. And then there was the time that I tripped over a cord while walking out of the nurse's station, and guess who happened to be approaching at that very moment? Of course, it was Dr. Styles, and instead of offering me a hand, he looked at me with disapproval.

I couldn't deny that the man was irresistibly handsome, but I wasn't getting such a great vibe from his mannerisms. He was all business, hardly ever smiling or chit-chatting; all about getting the job done. Period. I could understand that - this was the ED after all, and everyone had to be on top of their game at every moment to make it work effectively. But I had little chances to chat with some of the other nurses, which was always a little more uplifting. I took a few breaks with some of the interns, and one Patient Care Tech named Kane seemed to seek me out a lot. He and I clicked immediately. 

Dr. Styles was the attending again tonight. I wondered if he lived here; he'd been here for all but one of my shifts. And luck was against me tonight because it was the most intense shift I'd had so far. As soon as I'd arrived, I hit the ground running, and I kept going like a mad woman without time to stop and eat, drink, or even pee. I usually thrived on intense situations like this, talking to patients, keeping up with meds and communication between patient and doctor, etc. But I was into my ninth hour on my feet, and I was starting to lag. I had to at least stop and get a drink of water, but even that fleeting promise was snatched away from me when Dr. Styles commanded, "Ms. Jansen, I need you in here now!"

It wasn't even my patient, but I knew better than to argue with the doctor, especially Dr. Styles. I raced into the room and found a small, whimpering child in the bed with a wearied mother and father looking on.

Dr. Styles discreetly told me to restrain the child while he did his exam because the little boy had been getting violently upset whenever the doctor approached him. In other words, I had to hold the child down. Then he told the parents, "This is one of our nurses, Ellie. She's going to help me for bit here."

He said my name at least, instead of the stuffy-sounding Ms. Jansen.

I donned my gloves and went to the boy's feet, restraining them gently but firmly, which made him scream. "Mom," I said to the mother with an encouraging smile on my face. "Please stand by his head and try to keep him calm." She complied.