"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual. "What are you doing here?"
Once again, he looked like a Greek God, his darkened skin glowing under his summery attire, hair hanging loose around his shoulders. When he pushed his Ray-Bans up onto his head, his eyes arrested me. Ours were technically the same color, but his eyes reminded me of a lush, dense jungle with little bits of sunshine piercing through the treetops. Mine were a bit more on the blue side, but they had definite hues of green as well.
He smiled, stopping my heart, but at the same time, making it feel like it would burst from my chest. "I just saw you walking out here, so I thought I'd stop and say hello."
"All right," I nodded, sliding my feet into my flip flops. "You must live nearby then."
"Well, I haven't been entirely honest with you," he said.
"About what?" I laughed, trying to calm my nerves. He was weirding me out a little. Was he going to stalk me just like my ex-boyfriend did?
"Actually, um, I do live nearby," he said, sounding nervous as well. "In fact, I live in that building right there," he said, pointing to my apartment building.
I glanced and then looked back at him. "Huh," I said, trying to keep my cool, although my insides were squirming with excitement. "We live in the same building. Why is that dishonest?"
"You told me you were moving here and I guess I should have told you I lived here, too."
"Well, yes," I agreed. "I guess it would have been nice to know we were going to be neighbors, but don't worry about it. I know now." I grinned at him, further trying to convince him that it wasn't a big deal, even though I did kind of wonder why he hadn't mentioned it when I first told him I was moving there.
We started walking towards our building. When we went to cross Lakeshore Drive, which can be busy on occasion, Dr. Styles let his hand gently rest on my lower back, communicating some sort of protectiveness. I thought it was sweet.
"So, now what?" I asked, trying to get him to lighten up. "We can get together and play bridge with some friends? Barbecue together every weekend? You can borrow a cup of sugar any time you want to."
His face relaxed into a smile again, crinkling the skin around his eyes and pushing his delightful dimple into place. "I'll keep that in mind."
We approached the building and the doorman, whose name I'd learned was Walter Overton, opened the door for us. "Good afternoon, Walter," I smiled. "The sun is gorgeous out there. Make sure you take some time to get some on your face before it sets."
"Thank you, Ms. Ellie," he said, and then he turned to Harry. "How are you today, Dr. Styles?"
"Fine, thank you," he answered formally. As we walked toward the elevator, he said, "You're on a first-name basis with the doorman?"
I looked at him in surprise. "You're not?" I asked.
"No, obviously not," he replied with a little chuckle.
The elevator doors opened and we stepped in. I pushed the number 3 for my floor. "And where's your apartment?" I asked.
He hesitated, and then he turned his key into a small slot, giving me my answer. He quietly said, "It's...the penthouse." I wondered briefly how he could afford such luxury after having been a doctor for a mere seven years, but it was none of my business.
"Impressive," I said. He just smiled a funny, shy little smile. I was starting to think this guy had multiple personalities. Where on earth had shy come from? I'd never have thought he had it in him.
The elevator stopped on the third floor. I stepped halfway out and then turned back, asking, "Do you want to see my place? I've done a lot with it."
He waved me off politely and answered, "No, thank you. Maybe some other time."
"Okay," I nodded, feeling just a tiny sting of rejection, which I realized quickly was just plain silly.
The doors were sliding closed when he stopped them and said, "Let me give you my number. You know, in case you need anything. I mean, because you're new around here, and-"
There was that shyness again. I found it strangely adorable. I brought his bumbling to a halt by handing him my phone. He punched the numbers in and handed it back to me. "I'm glad we're neighbors," I said as the doors began to close once more.
"Me, too," I heard him say just before the elevator whisked him away to his penthouse.
I got to my apartment and let out a little squeal. What awesome luck! Dr. Styles lived in the same building. I sent him a quick text, saying, "Now you have my number, too." I put a little smiley face after it and hit send, but then I thought it might seem silly and unprofessional. Oh well, I couldn't take it back now.
Another day on the job, and it was another crazy shift.
Even though Dr. Styles looked sensational with his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, he seemed to have reverted to his old, cranky self, snapping at me and frequently telling me how to improve on my work.
To make matters worse, one of my patients was an obviously wealthy woman with an overdeveloped sense of entitlement. She had come in because of chest pains and shortness of breath. Turns out she was another regular, and she'd been through numerous tests, proving that she had no heart problems whatsoever. Tammy filled me in on her situation. She had a questionable anxiety problem, so this was a run-of-the-mill panic attack. Give her some Ativan, get her calmed down, make sure she had a follow-up appointment with her therapist. Of course, the department had to run all of the appropriate tests on her each and every time to be absolute certain that she wasn't actually having a heart attack. As much of a pain as it was to order the same tests over and over, we called this the CYA approach, which meant Cover Your Ass, which sadly, all doctors, nurses, and hospitals had to do religiously in order to avoid malpractice claims in a lawsuit-happy world.
There have been very few people in my life who have rubbed me the wrong way, but this woman made the list in record time. Her immediate appearance when I walked into the room did not read panic attack at all. She was picking at her perfect manicure while she talked loudly into her cell phone. And she wasn't talking to a concerned family member about her condition; no, she was updating someone on the recently downgraded social status of a mutual friend based on his indiscretions with a married supermodel.
"Hello, Mrs. Clark. Martha, is it?" I greeted her, receiving no response. I stood there, cheerful as could be, waiting for her to acknowledge me.
She kept right on talking into her cell phone. I stood there politely, waiting for her to finish, but she didn't seem to get the hint that I was there to talk to her. After several minutes, she covered the phone with her hand and said, "Can I help you?"
I forced the nicest smile onto my face and said, "Actually, I'm here to help you, and I'm going to need you to finish your phone call."
She gave me a dirty look and said, "Who are you? I haven't seen you before."
Wow, Tammy wasn't kidding, she really was a regular here. "I would have introduced myself, Ma'am, but I was politely waiting for you to finish."
"You weren't that polite," she scoffed after she said good-bye and ended the call.
"I'm Ellie," I said quickly, not letting her get another word in. "I'll be your nurse, and I've got to check your vitals now." I went to wrap the blood pressure cuff around her upper arm.
"Your hands are cold as ice!" She said, dramatically jolting her arm.
"I'm sorry about that," I said, undeterred by her crabby attitude.
"You could at least warm your hands up," she continued. When I lifted her wrist to take her pulse, she nearly shrieked. "Good heavens, young lady! Get those frozen fingers off of me!"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Clark, but I have to get all your vitals and put them in the system or I won't be doing my job."
"Well, you're hardly doing your job anyway," she mumbled.
I ignored her sour attitude and continued with the vitals check. Once I'd finished and entered my notes into the computer, I asked, "Can you tell me what's going on?"
She made a face at me and said, "It should be in my chart! Why aren't you people talking to each other?"
"Ma'am," I said softly. "It's protocol for everyone who sees you to ask how you're doing and why you came in to the department. It helps us to ensure that we know everything in order to give you the best care." I glanced back at her chart on the computer screen, and continued. "It says here that you take 20 mg of Celexa on a daily basis, and you have a prescription of Xanax to take in case of an anxiety episode. Did you take your medication today?"
"I'm here because I'm having a heart attack!" She sneered. "Anxiety medicine has nothing to do with that. I don't believe you even went to nursing school."
"I assure you I did, and I graduated at the top of my class. Now, a panic attack can feel a lot like a heart attack, and if you're not taking your medications, you can have some pretty uncomfortable symptoms."
She was furious with me for even suggesting that she wasn't actually having a heart attack, even though her symptoms were all accounted for. I made my notes on her chart and then I told her, "Your blood pressure and pulse are good, your color is normal, and it looks like you're just waiting on some blood work. So, sit tight and they should be here soon."
My pager went off, telling me I had a more pressing emergency in the next room. "Excuse me, I have to check on another patient," I told her as I left the room.
"Fine," she huffed, and then she called after me, "And can I get another cup of water? The ice has melted in this one because it's so damned hot in here!"
In the next room, I found Dr. Styles and a team already attending to a man who was presenting with real heart attack symptoms, shortness of breath, sweating, chest pain. While I was yanking on my gloves, I recognized the patient.
"Hello, Mr. Reynaldo," I said tenderly, and stroking his hair a bit. "As much as I like you, I was hoping I wouldn't have to see you back here again."
He gave me a weak smile. "I remember you," he said weakly. "But tell me your name again, honey."
"I'm Ellie," I said with a bright smile.
"Ms. Jansen," the doctor spoke tensely. "Skip the pleasantries and get his IV started."
Dr. Styles gave me the rundown while I started Mr. Reynaldo's IV. From what he said, speaking carefully of course, it appeared to be an real heart attack this time. Together, Dr. Styles and the rest of the team got him stabilized and then he was admitted for testing and possibly for further procedures.
As soon as Mr. Reynaldo was heading out for tests, another patient coded, so we had to resuscitate and stabilize her before attending to the victims of a multiple-injury car accident who were just coming in by ambulance. I wasn't on the trauma team, but I had to help out in any way I could when there were several traumas coming in all at once. This time there were five.
After a solid two hours of doing everything from basic IV lines to assisting with removal of pieces of the dashboard from a man's chest, I was spent. I was glad there was only an hour left of my shift. Thankfully, everyone stepped up when things like this happened, so other nurses had been covering my rooms in my absence. I made the rounds to the patients, some of whom were new since I'd been occupied with the traumas.
I hoped that Mrs. Clark would be long gone by now, but she wasn't. When I walked in, she was livid. "Young lady," she charged, "I asked you for a cup of ice water, and you couldn't even do that one simple thing. How can I trust that you actually know what you're doing, for heaven's sake? You have to be the most incompetent nurse I've ever met."
"I apologize ma'am," I said meekly. "I will get you a fresh cup as soon as I'm done with your vitals." I knew for a fact that the other nurses had checked in on her numerous times, so she could have asked any one of them for water.
"No!" She snapped. "I need it now. And I'd like to speak with the attending doctor, not those ill-trained residents."
My irritation began to show through. "With all due respect, ma'am, I'm going to take your vitals whether you like it or not, and then I will get your water. I have several other patients to attend to, and I have to be as efficient as possible."
She grabbed my wrist and seethed, "You will do no such thing. Now I asked for water, and I'd like to speak to your supervisor immediately."
That was the last straw. I'd had absolutely enough of her grumbling. "Mrs. Clark, while you were sitting here griping about having to drink warm water, I was helping to save the lives of five people who were brought in, at the same time, with significant traumas! This is not a hotel or a catering service. This is a hospital where our job is to save lives, so if you were indeed dying - which you are not at this moment - I would do everything in my power to keep that from happening, even though you aren't the least bit grateful. Now, stop complaining and let me do my job!"
Her mouth dropped and for once she was speechless. Just as I finished, Dr. Styles entered the room. His timing was terrible. There was no way he hadn't heard me scolding her since my voice was raised to a near-yell. Losing my temper with a co-worker was one thing, but losing it with a patient was a big no-no. I could get fired for it. And knowing Dr. Styles and his desire for perfection, he wouldn't think twice about filing a report, even though it seemed we had at least crossed the threshold from co-worker to friend.
"Ms. Jansen, that will be all," he said firmly, and the look on his face was angry.
I couldn't handle it. I rushed to Elaine and told her everything. "I know I should have kept my mouth shut, but she just wouldn't let up. I'm so sorry I lost it. Do you think I'll lose my job?"
Elaine studied me, deep in thought. "No, I don't think you'll lose your job," she shrugged. "You simply told her the truth. Some people need to be put in their place. At least you didn't tell her you'd let her die or something terrible like that."
I really loved Elaine. Her sensible advice and encouragement were a huge help to me. "Yes, but Dr. Styles heard me. He's talking to her right now and he's not happy with me," I said mournfully. "I could see it on his face."
"Oh, Dr. Styles isn't quite the tyrant you make him out to be," she assured me. "I'm sure it will be fine."
The doctor approached us just then and I braced myself for his wrath. He didn't speak for several moments and it was driving me insane. Finally, he spoke directly to Elaine. "I told Mrs. Clark that she had no right to speak to our dear Ms. Jansen that way, and that if she was that unhappy with our service, next time she would be free to go to Mercy Hospital. And then I discharged her. Bridget is going over her instructions right now."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I could have sworn he was joking, but he patted my shoulder. "You're probably the first person with enough courage to stand up to her. And that woman really is a pain in the ass."
Elaine and I started laughing as I felt a wave of relief wash over me. "Thank you, Dr. Styles," I finally said.
He walked away and Elaine quietly said, "See? I told you he's not an ogre."
"No, I guess not," I replied happily.
* * * * *
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