With a flourish, Jenessa signed her name
to the nurses’ notes on a fourth chart. She picked up a stack of papers and the
brown bag containing the lunch she hadn’t had time to eat. All day, the pace in
the Intensive Care unit had been hectic. Two Codes. Three admissions in five
minutes, all of them critical. Instead of twenty-seven, she felt more like
seventy.
She waved at the night nurse. “See you
tomorrow.”
“That’s two extras in a row,” one of the
women called. “Are you some kind of glutton?”
Am I?
One more thing and I’m out of
here. She straight-armed the door and headed for the stairs. After stopping on
two other units to collect protest forms, she entered the stairwell.
Voices, eerie and distorted, drifted from
below. The echo-effect made her wonder if the speakers were male or female. “Don’t
worry, if we just push them a little harder, they’ll walk.”
“You’re right. Who could resist…”
Who were they talking about? She leaned over the railing, but shadows hid
the speakers. The voices faded. A door slammed. She frowned and headed to the
fifth floor where she entered the Nursing Office.
Lorraine Rodgers, one of the evening
supervisors, looked up. “Again? Don’t
you get tired of making waves?”
“Is that what I do? I thought I was fulfilling my role as a good
union member and a conscientious nurse. The contract gives us the right to
protest unsafe working conditions. I just make sure they’re collected.”
The middle-aged woman shook her head. “We
all know this is your personal crusade. Can’t you put the past to rest?”
Jenessa’s hands clenched and she felt the
muscles in her shoulders tighten. “Could you?”
She fought a barrage of memories. “See that Ms. Wallace gets these. Not
that she cares.”
“You could give them to her. She’s in the
house. The Board’s meeting to select the new Director and we all know who that
will be.”
“Maybe they’ll choose someone else.”
Mrs. Rodgers laughed. “Do you really
believe that? She’s been angling for the
job since she arrived. We’ll have to learn to live with her.”
“Maybe.”
“Another petition asking for Sandra’s
removal?”
Jenessa shrugged. “See you tomorrow.”
“You’re on again? Do you work all these extra shifts just to
log complaints?”
“If I don’t, who’d be here for the
patients?” Jenessa strode away.
Fifteen minutes later, in her apartment
across the street, she stood in the shower. Hot water uncoiled her tight
muscles, but not her thoughts. Would the hospital Board really name Sandra
Wallace, a woman disliked by most of the nurses, as the new director? With Jim Bishop as Board president, the
choice seemed likely.
After pulling on an over-sized blue tee
shirt, she headed to the kitchen and zapped the spicy chicken dish she should
have eaten for lunch. Though she
considered working on her Master’s thesis, she felt too tired to read the stack
of articles on the desk.
The apartment door slammed. She looked up
and saw her roommate. Megan kicked off her shoes. “Are you ready for a
bomb? Guess what the Board has done.”
“Sandra.”
“Is out.” Megan grinned. “Josh and I were
at the Cove for dinner. Sam introduced Eric Bradshaw. Would you believe he’s
the new Director of Nursing? And what a
hunk he is.”
Jenessa pushed back long strands of dark
brown hair that had come loose from her braid. “You’re kidding.”
“Not one bit.”
“It’s a ploy. Can’t you hear Mr. Bishop’s laughter? We’ll give the girls a man to drool over. That’ll
shut them up.”
“Come on, Jen. At least they didn’t name
Her.” Megan headed across the living room, discarding pieces of clothes as she
walked. “He’s every woman’s dream. Tall, blond, broad shoulders. I positively
drooled. He’s got the greatest dimples. That’s because he’s a Libra.”
Trust Megan to ask his sun sign, Jenessa
thought. Her roommate’s description confirmed her suspicions of the Board’s
motives. “Sounds like you’re adding him to your string.”
“Wrong. A Libra and a Pisces. Odd couple
material.” Megan’s blonde curls bounced with the force of her denial. “He’s for
you, my Aries friend. Remember what I always say. An opposition can be
exciting.”
Not again, Jenessa thought. For the past
year, Megan’s attempts at matchmaking seemed designed to drive her crazy. “Megan,
no.”
“You can’t be alone forever.”
“You’re surviving.”
“Alone I’m not. My problem is too many and
being unable to hurt anyone.” She shrugged. “Give it a shot.”
Jenessa frowned. Megan and she had been
friends since they were five, but there were things she couldn’t tell
her…Things about Chuck and the marriage.
“I’m union. He’s management. Can you see
me falling for someone from the opposition?”
“And what will you be when you finish your
Master’s?”
“Not here. I’ll work for a doctor. Head to
the city. Become a consultant.” She followed the trail of clothes and gathered
them as she walked. “With my reputation here, they won’t promote me.”
“Your reputation is undeserved. Just
because you organized the union, sent a petition to recall Sandra, started the
protest forms, negotiated the contract --”
The click of the bathroom door cut off Megan’s words.
Jenessa dropped the clothes beside the
door. She entered the bedroom and stared at the red brick building across the
street where she worked in ICU. She liked Eastlake Community. For nearly three
years, the hospital had been her refuge. She didn’t want to leave.
She returned to the hall just as Megan
emerged. wrapped in a blue bath sheet that nearly reached her toes.
“...use someone who plunges to the center
of a problem and won’t give up until the next one appears. You are kind of
blunt though. He’ll weigh his decisions. Libras do. What’s on the agenda now?” She stumbled over the heap of clothes. “I
know. In the hamper.”
“The contract. Monday, I’ll demand a
meeting.”
“Why not give Eric Bradshaw a chance to
settle in?”
“Why?
They said they’d talk once they hired a new director and they have.” Jenessa
headed to the kitchen.
“Let him size things first.”
“Do you really think a new D.O.N. will
help us?” Jenessa paused at the end of
the hall. “Do you know how many extras I’ve worked this summer?”
“That’s your punishment for demanding
thirteen hour shifts. They can’t ask me to work seven days a week.”
“How many doubles have you pulled since
Sandra took over staffing? Sometimes I
think she wants to drive nurses away.”
“Why would she do that?” Megan followed Jenessa into the kitchen. Her
knee length yellow tee shirt was the same bright color as the walls.
“Who knows?”
“Jen, give the guy a chance. How would you
like to be in his shoes?”
She laughed. “I’d love it. You know, if I
could transfer my credits, I’d be out of here.”
“It’s the same everywhere. Don’t you pay attention
to the letters from the gang?”
“There are hospitals where the problems
are addressed.” Jenessa picked up a fork. “Around here no one admits there are
any.”
“I’m not sure there are answers. The
health care system is in flux.”
“If the Board would sit down with us, we
could try.”
Megan grinned. “Do I see you, sword in
hand, leading the charge?”
“Don’t make fun. This is serious.”
“I’m sorry. I know how important adequate
staffing is to you.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get a decent
contract.” Jenessa bit her lower lip and fought a storm of memories and guilt.
Megan opened the refrigerator and poured a
glass of juice. “Letters from the gang are in. Did you do yours?”
“What do you think?” The idea for a monthly exchange of letters
between the members of their clinical group from the nursing program at
Grantley was Megan’s project.
“When are you going to write it?”
“How about after the softball game
Saturday?”
“I’m mailing copies tomorrow.” Megan
raised her hand in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll write yours...About the game. Will
we win?”
“We’d better. Softball is the one place
where Nursing stands a chance against the other departments who, with one
whimper, get everything they want.”
“He’ll be there.”
“Who?”
“Eric Bradshaw.” Megan left the kitchen. “Night.”
As Jenessa loaded the dishwasher, a slow
grin built from deep inside. He’d be there. So would Jim Bishop and Sandra
Wallace. The annual hospital picnic might be an interesting event.
