Part 4 (1/2)
Simone surprisingly gave her the s.p.a.ce she needed.
”Okay. Well, I love you.”
”Love you too.”
”Dr., a minute?”
”Of course.” Mathew reclined back in his chair closing the patient file. The Hospital Administrator, Alice Murphy, was a by the books type of woman. Just over six feet tall, she had long legs, long arms, long fingers and a long neck. Her beady eyes were magnified behind thick red-rimmed gla.s.ses. Her nasal speech always set the patients and doctors at Mercy Hospital on edge. She, of course, only arrived to shove policy down their throats, pa.s.s out a pink slip, or preach of doom and gloom from a malpractice suit.
”What is it, Murphy?”
”The incident yesterday with nurses Kimberly Jensen and Lacy Meeks.”
”Right.”
”I read your report. It was very detailed. This morning, however, I received a different one. You are now saying the nurses' oversight was due to miscommunication on your part?”
”That's right,” he said. He sat forward. ”I didn't order the right tests. Nurse Jensen only arrived after Mr. Dagwood had received a prior dose of Betanol. She wasn't aware of the history before she okayed the next. I realized this after I filed the first report. I wanted to make sure there was an accurate accounting.”
”Dagwood's chart has Lacey handling all his vitals and administering his meds. Surely she knew to check for his allergies,” Murphy frowned.
”Everything is in order. Mr. Dagwood is my patient. He's recovered. You can speak with the nurses, but I am clearing them both on my end. Up to you.”
Murphy seemed unmoved. He added a cherry. ”Also, in your file you see the waiver he signed releasing the hospital from any wrongdoing. I would think that would make you smile?”
”Hmpf, we need to be mindful of these incidents here at Mercy. You've only been here a short time. I suggest you respect the boundaries between doctors and nurses. It's not your job to protect them. It's their job to a.s.sist and protect you.”
”I completely understand,” he nodded.
Alice Murphy gave him a distrustful look, turned and left. Mathew watched the door close. He thought about Kimberly Jensen and how fl.u.s.tered she seemed when he changed her tire.
”Hi, Dr. Patel. Are you busy?”
”No, Kimberly, I can see you now.”
She did notice his busy scribbling. She hoped it would be enough of a distraction to get her what she needed. Throat dry, palms sweaty, she felt awkward and flushed. After the Dagwood incident, she said she would focus. Now her stomach was sour. Anxiety had made her hands unsteady, and she kept swallowing nausea. She wouldn't survive the rest of the day. She was barely on s.h.i.+ft, and she had twelve more hours to go.
”What is it, Kimberly?” Patel asked. Indonesian, with dark brown skin and jet black hair, he had a presence about him that was calming for some and considered aloof by others. Patients either clung to him or made statements that he made them uncomfortable-mostly female.
”My prescription, I need a refill. I was wondering if I could-”
Patel lowered his pen. He looked up at her, concerned. ”You finished the Oxycodone?”
Something in the way he looked at her and the smug note in his voice made her ball her hands into fists in the front of her scrubs. ”Yes. The back pain, well it's starting to be more persistent.”
”Have a seat,” he gestured with a raised brow. ”Maybe we need to take some more x-rays and see if there is anything that should cause us more concern?”
She didn't want a seat. She sure as h.e.l.l didn't want an exam. She stopped using him as her personal doctor, lying that she'd found a family pract.i.tioner. The exams made her feel uncomfortable. At first she thought it was her grief, but he was just too attentive to her pain. Back then he told her that the Vicodin would help. And it did, but then he suggested her moving to Oxy. As a nurse, she knew the dangers, but she was in so much internal pain, she didn't question his generosity, or unorthodox methods. Now every month she kept coming back for more, having discovered that snorting it was more powerful than taking the pill, and the effects lasted longer from a former patient who was an addict-she adopted that habit. Then came the nosebleeds. She stopped snorting, and now her urges weren't easily satisfied.
Kim sat in the chair and tried to be patient. She just needed a little bit more until the lawsuit was settled and she could cut back on her hours to be a good mother to her babies.
”Seems like we aren't getting you well. That's a shame. Maybe we need to re-evaluate what works best.”
Kim frowned. Was he going to switch her over to another narcotic? Oxy was what worked best. It helped her function. As if reading her mind, he rose from his desk and walked over with concern in his eyes. Kneeling in front of her, he placed a hand to her knee. ”What you really need is therapy.”
”Therapy? For what?” she asked, looking down at his hand.
”My program, one I've gotten Mercy to start for post-partum. I can give you the individual attention to address your pain. You're ready.”
”Post partum? I'm not suffering from post partum. You and I both know this is from the botched epidural when I gave birth to my sons.”
”You're perfectly healthy,” Patel smirked, giving her knee a squeezed. She clamped her legs shut and his hand dropped away.
”Doctor, just give me my refill, please,” Kim sniffed. She closed her eyes to a wave of nausea that burned her throat with acidity. The reflux subsided, but the cramping was just starting.
The doctor just stared. Kim opened her eyes to see he was standing again but extremely close. His shoes touched hers. He took her hand and forced her to rise. ”I understand your discomfort. I'm worried about you, Kim. With the addictive nature of Oxy, you've been on them too long. Plus, I hear there was an incident here. A patient slipped into a coma under your watch. You're lucky he came out of it and doesn't want to sue the hospital. Murphy isn't happy right now. If she knew...”
”Knew what? I-I I'm doing my job.”
”Right, still, maybe this is my fault; maybe the meds have impaired your ability to do your job.”
”You prescribed them for me.”
”Not for recreation,” his voice sharpened.
”Don't do this. I'm working long s.h.i.+fts here, and my back is killing me. I need something to get me through.”
”Then you need to let me help you,” Dr. Patel said, pinching her chin. ”Let me talk to Murphy to see if we can get you into my program during your s.h.i.+ft hours. That way you and I can spend more time together... working on your problem.”
”No, no.” She recoiled from his touch. She nearly knocked the chair back as she rose. ”I don't want to experiment with my pain. No thanks.” She knew there was more on the table than that. But she tried to ignore it. She had to. She didn't need the doctor cutting her off or thinking of a payoff. She just needed her refill. G.o.d, what was she going to do? Murphy tested her and what would come up in her blood with how frequent she's been taking the Oxy would cost her, her job, or worse. Her eyes stung with tears of frustration.
”I'm offering you help. All I ever wanted to do was help you,” he said.
”If you hadn't botched my epidural in the first place, I wouldn't have needed anything now. Would I?” She stepped back from him. ”It's okay. Forget it. I'll get another doctor. Thanks.”
”Jensen, wait.” He grabbed her hand. She looked back at him and he squeezed it. ”No doctor can give you the help you need. The kind you snort up your nose.”
”I do not!”
”Nose bleeds? I've seen them too.”
Panic rioted in her. She s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand away just as Mathew opened the door. He paused. Glaring at Patel, she stepped back. If she hadn't been walking around with blinders on, she wouldn't have ignored the feeling that something wasn't right with Patel. She turned and collided directly with Mathew. Her eyes lifted to his and he looked down into hers with concern. She guessed it was the tears she'd been fighting to hold back. She dropped them away, ashamed.
”Is something wrong?” Mathew asked.
”Ah, no... Nurse Jensen was just leaving,” Dr. Patel said, returning to his desk. Kim pushed past Mathew without speaking. She felt his hand on her arm trying to stop her, to talk possibly, but she kept going. She didn't need this c.r.a.p. She would stay away from Patel, away from the Oxy. She was used to living with pain now. This couldn't be any worse.
That p.r.i.c.k! she shouted in her head. f.u.c.king c.o.c.k-sucker, pervert.