The straining air conditioner barely managed to keep the temperature inside Charlie’s a tad cooler than the August heat outside. At ten minutes to midnight the temperature outside registered at eighty-nine. The humid air hung heavy.
Laura
Bancroft paused inside the door of the dimly lit bar area of the restaurant.
She walked to the large booth at the rear of the narrow rom. For a moment she
wondered why she’d come. Her hectic schedule as an evening nurse, being a
single mother and working on her master’s degree made joining her colleagues a
seldom event.
Several
nurses waved and slid along the curved bench. The dark-haired man seated at the
end brushed a kiss on her cheek. “Glad you decided to come.”
Laura leaned
against the padded back of the booth. “I’m free tonight. Stacey has a weekend
sleepover and Dad invited his buddies for cards.”
His hand
covered hers. “You’re free tomorrow. So am I. I’ve an idea. Come home with me.”
Laura sighed.
Should she? She liked him. They shared classes at the local university as they
both were working for a Master’s degree. Her hands tightened. Lately she’d felt
uncomfortable. Moving beyond friendship seemed impossible.
Before she
refused the waitress arrived with a tray of glasses. “The one with the straw is
the soda.”
Laura took
that glass. “Thanks for remembering.”
“You seldom
indulge in alcohol.” He turned his beer mug in circles.
Exhaustion
swept through Laura’s body. She bent her head and sipped the cola savoring the
taste and the coolness on her dry throat. She listened to the gossip sweeping
around the table.
“So I said,”
One of the nurses began. “Doesn’t an elevated temp three days after surgery men
something’s brewing.” She groaned. “This is the third pending infection for
Blunder Doctor this month.”
“And it’s
only August sixth,” another nurse said. “Give him a chance to better his
record.”
“Guess what
Princess Doc said this afternoon. “Don’t call me. Call the service and someone
will get back to you. I have a busy evening.”
“She must
have tickets to the opera,” Laura mumbled.
A nurse with
gray hair Laura had never seen before leaned forward. “Seems things aren’t much
different from the last place I worked.” She unfolded a piece of paper. “Months
ago I read this. Five to ten percent of the nation’s doctors are so impaired or
incompetent they cannot and should now practice medicine.”
A blast of
chill air sent shivers along Laura’s spine. Mentally she listed the doctors at
Bradley Memorial who fit that description. “I think the numbers are too low
unless there are four or five hundred doctors on staff.”
Along with
the article, laughter moved around the table.
“Maybe we
have them all,” someone whispered.
Laura
frowned. The clipped voice belonged to one of the evening supervisors. What was
Edith doing here? How often did someone from administration socialize with
staff nurses? The older woman sat next to the young blonde who had just completed
her month long orientation.
“Something
should be done," someone said.
Laura scanned
her companions. Who had spoken? “What can we do?” Her question joined the
chorus.
“There’s more.”
The supervisor moved the globed candle closer. For an instant the flickering
flame changed her round smiling face into a grotesque mask. “Only a doctor can
determine if another doctor is incompetent.”
“Wrong,” the
strange nurse said. “Nurses can act>”
“Not true,”
someone said.
“Sure.” Skepticism
colored the speaker’s voice. “We all know how they avoid and close their ranks
around the incompetent. They’re afraid of what they might find.”
“And if any
of the doctors agree with us. Their afraid of what they might find.”
“So what can
we do?” Laura’s question halted the buzz of conversation.
“Nothing,”
their sole male said. “Look at what happened to
A second
woman slapped the table. “He’s right. The doctors will continue with business
as usual.”
How right
they were. Laura drew a deep breath. For at least twenty years Dr. John Moore
had been a sloppy surgeon. Her nails bit into her palms. The infection he has
caused when he’s operated on her mother had caused her death. Laura had been
forced to face her teenage years motherless. How many times had a similar
scenario been repeated because of him?
The stranger
nurse rested her elbows on the table. “Who says we must work alone. I’ll tell
you what the nurses at the last hospital where I worked did. She lowered her
voice to a whisper. “They formed a committee.”
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