2 Any Meat In That Soup? (9 page)

That was the moment I fell in love with him again.

ELEVEN

F
ell in love with him? What alternate universe was this? And when I needed a shoulder to cry on it was always my brother Pete. Always. Well, unless he was busy and then it was Jen or Jill or Ed or Rob, in any order really. Pete had some sort of “vibes” gift too. I recognized it, and although we talked about mine, we never talked about his. But it did give us a special bond.

So why did I call George? Today he behaved perfectly and said all the right things. He seemed sincere, but now I was second-guessing my choice. Omigod, I didn’t say I loved him out loud, did I?

Thank God the doctor interrupted us or I would have kept ruminating about George. Clancy was the most important concern right now.

George and I stood at the same time. I couldn’t speak, unusual for me. I stared at the vet and the tears started again. For the first time I noticed the smell in the waiting room—the smell of disinfectant and fear. Not a pleasant combination.

Doctor Bob didn’t mince words. “I think Clancy is going to be okay. Doing a gastric lavage—I mean pumping her stomach—seemed to help a lot. Her blood pressure improved a little, although her pulse is still elevated. If it was poison, it hadn’t been in her system long, or it was a small amount, or there would be more severe symptoms. I’m sending her stomach contents to the lab and she’ll need to stay here tonight.”

All I could think about was that she was going to be okay. I grabbed the doctor and hugged him fiercely. He was more than a foot taller than I was, but I stood on tiptoe.

I couldn’t think of any questions to ask, but luckily George was more clear-headed than I was. He asked the vet, “What kind of treatment are you doing now?”

As the doctor talked we all walked in the treatment room so I could be with Clancy as she woke up. “She’s quite dehydrated. And arsenic does do that. So for one thing we’re keeping an IV in until both her pulse and blood pressure have normalized. There are also two drugs that are given for arsenic poisoning. I hesitate to give one of them because it can cause harm if the problem isn’t poison. There are some side effects.” He then explained the side effects of dimercaprol and penicillamine.

I was so sure that it was arsenic poisoning that I immediately said, “Give her the drugs.” He nodded.

Clancy’s big beautiful brown eyes opened, and I was right there as the doctor promised I would be. The light in her eyes had dimmed somewhat, but was still there. I hugged and kissed her. She gently licked my face.

“Clancy, you’re going to stay here tonight. I promise they’ll take good care of you. I’ll pick you up as soon as the doc says it’s okay.” I knew she understood me. She always did. Although I couldn’t pick up her feelings like I usually could, I was grateful she could still pick up mine. I looked at the doctor. “I’ll call later to see how she is.” He nodded.

“Sam, I’ll do everything I can to help Clancy. Please know that.”

I took his hands. “I do. Thank you.”

And with that I walked out the door. George grabbed my hand as we walked, and for once I didn’t yank it away.

We walked to our cars. George asked if I wanted to go for lunch.

“Lunch? Omigosh, it feels like it’s nighttime already instead of early afternoon.” I clicked to unlock my car. “I don’t feel like I can eat right now. I’m going to go to the hospital to work my shift.”

“Are you sure that’s what you should do?”

“I don’t want to go home, so I might as well work. Plus, I’m more determined than ever to find out who’s poisoning people and animals. I’m sure it’s the same person or persons.”

I got in my car, and George leaned against it with his head in the window opening. “Okay. I know better than to try to get you to change your mind. I’ll get back to work too. But you’re having dinner with me tonight, and I’ll accept no answer other than yes.”

Normally I hate when people boss me around. But right now it was rather comforting to have someone tell me what to do. “I’m done at the hospital at six.”

He smiled. “I’ll be at your place at 6:15.” Then he leaned in farther and kissed me. And I kissed him back. In the category of kisses, this one was sweet and loving instead of passionate and wanting. Just what I needed.

When I arrived at the ER a few minutes later I looked for Jen to apologize for being late. She was busy as usual. But she probably already knew the results of what had happened. I’d called Pete and my kids on the drive to the hospital, so I thought everyone else would be notified.

Loretta told me that two staff were sick with upset stomachs. “Probably the flu.” And although the place was steadily busy, there still were no crises for me to help with. I thought that someone was going to figure out pretty soon that my position wasn’t necessary. I was afraid people would then stop talking to me. So I gave myself a mental swift kick to the behind to get the job done as soon as possible.

I went into what I considered my office—the break room. Carter wasn’t sitting there at the moment. I absentmindedly opened the refrigerator and worked to stifle my gag reflex. “What are science experiments doing in here?” I said to myself.

“Funny,” Carter responded.

“How did you get in here? You weren’t here a second ago.”

“Maybe I was and maybe I wasn’t.”

I thought now was the time to satisfy my curiosity. “Do you go anywhere else besides the break room?”

He gave me his ghost smile, and that was answer enough.

Sleuthing didn’t appeal to me as much right now, Clancy was on my mind. I called the vet and the tech said that Clancy was showing more spirit and they were confident she’d be okay and would be released in the morning.

Feeling better about Clancy, but feeling creepy about Carter, I walked out of the break room and ran into Loretta.

“Loretta, did anyone ever think to check the food in the break room?” I had to take a deep breath right away because she came in so close I’d only be able to breathe in her lunch and carbon dioxide. “The potato salad with mayo has been sitting out for hours. And there’s stuff growing on some of the so-called food in the fridge.”

Let me say that I was totally wrong when I thought Loretta was a close talker before. Never in my years had I ever experienced this type of “close talkery.” She was so far in my face our noses were touching. I backed up against the counter of the nursing station as much as I could, but was basically trapped. With hands on her hips and her eyes flashing, Loretta yelled, “You talking about my break room food not being safe? You talking about my refrigerator being dirty? You’re a fine one to talk. Jenny says there’s stuff in the back of your fridge that you can’t throw away because you’re afraid to get close to it.”

I’ve seen people take things personally. Me included. However I’d never experienced a sudden blow-up like this. I quickly backed out of the conversation. Guess I got on her last nerve. Maybe other people had complained, and I was just the last straw. Was it really her responsibility to keep the refrigerator clean?

I felt sick. I didn’t know if my vibes were kicking in or if it was from inhaling her breath. I sat down in the nurse’s station to steady myself and quickly felt better. No one else was in there, so I thought it would be a great opportunity to snoop. It wouldn’t violate any laws or hospital policy since I was an employee and legally worked in the ER. I mentally rubbed my hands together, ready to dive in. There was nothing in particular I was looking for, but sometimes information just drops into your hands.

But not this time.

TWELVE

J
ust as I looked at the first computer screen, Jenny stepped up to the station and said three things: “What are you doing,” “I’m glad Clancy is okay and we’ll talk more about that later,” and “There’s a patient for you in Room 19.”

As usual, short and to the point. I ignored her first question and I knew Pete had probably told her about Clancy. As for the third, I actually felt grateful to have real work to do to justify my existence in the ER.

“Where’s the information on the patient?” I asked, quickly getting into professional mode. Luckily Jen let her first question slide, because I had no good answer.

She told me to type my username and password, which I had received on the first day from Human Resources, then showed me how to pull up the database on the computer. For some reason she added, “And although technically you have access to all the ER patient information, because we all treat all the patients, there’s a rule that you don’t look at anything you don’t absolutely need to know. It’s part of the HIPAA Law. Do you understand?”

I nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for Jen.

“Do you understand?” she asked again.

“Yes. I’m a licensed clinical social worker. I know the law. I respect the law.” Before she could say anything else, I added, “Yes, I know I’m nosy. But I’m ethical.”

At least almost all the time.

She didn’t say anything else; just ran off God knows where to do God knows what.

I turned my attention back to the computer. Jonah Landis. Wife, Kathy. I read the specifics. Jonah had become paranoid and it affected every facet of their life. So off I went to Room 19.

Jonah sat on the bed, with his wife next to him patting his shoulder.

“Is it all right if I come in?” Knowing that he was paranoid made it vital I enter the room in a non-threatening manner.

He just looked at me. Then looked at his wife. She nodded. He then looked back at me and nodded too.

“Hi, I’m Sam Darling, and I’m a social worker,” I said. There was no way I’d say I was a crisis intervention specialist. That might escalate things. Social worker sounded rather innocuous.

I held out my hand. He didn’t take it, but his wife did. As she did, she spoke for the first time, and she nearly blew me back on my heels.

“HELLO, I’M KATHY LANDIS AND THIS IS MY HUSBAND, JONAH.”

I answered much more quietly than usual, hoping it would bring her volume down. “Nice to meet you both. What brings you here?”

Jonah looked at his wife again, and she repeated her nod. He seemed to trust her, so he finally spoke. I prepared for another onslaught of yelling. Instead, he spoke softly. “Kathy thought I should come. She thinks there’s something wrong with me. But I know there’s nothing wrong with me. There’s something wrong with the world. Everybody knows everything about us. There are no secrets anymore.” He looked around the whole room. “I think people get information about me because they keep watching me. I’ve reported it to the police but they don’t believe me. I’m being watched.”

Gosh, once he started he couldn’t stop.

“They bugged my house, my phone, my car. They probably have this place bugged too, so I’m not going to tell you anything that’s secret.”

I nodded, and said that I needed to do a mental health assessment. He looked at his wife.

“HONEY, GO AHEAD AND DO IT. SHE’S JUST HERE TO HELP YOU.”

Her volume must have done the trick, because he agreed with a nod to me.

What was it with this woman? I moved closer to her husband and away from her. My ears needed a rest. As usual I asked the patient if it was okay if his wife stayed in the room. He said it was. Then I told his wife that I wanted Jonah to answer the questions but if he didn’t know the answer, or if she disagreed with the answer, she could tell me what she thought. Both of them agreed with that arrangement.

During the mental health assessment my hunch was confirmed. I gave Jonah a tentative diagnosis of schizophrenia, paranoid type. That diagnosis might stay or it might not, depending on the psychiatrist’s evaluation once Jonah got on the unit.

Crap, I suddenly realized I’d forgotten to ask if he was willing to be admitted.

“Jonah, I know your fears are really bothering you. I’d like it if you would get some help so you don’t have to be so scared.” I knew it was imperative at this point that I didn’t try to discount his fears or tell him no one was spying on him. “Being scared takes a lot of energy. You’re tired, but having a hard time sleeping. If you go to the behavioral health unit, the doctor can talk to you about the possibility of medication to help you sleep.”

Jonah became agitated, moving around on the bed and looking around the room frantically. I quickly added, “No one will make you take medicine if you don’t want to. We only do that if someone is dangerous to themselves or someone else. You aren’t dangerous. You just have a lot of fears. Okay?”

He continued looking around, but said, “Okay.”

I told them I’d have to go get some more paperwork started for his admission.

Kathy said, “THANK YOU.”

When I got back to the nurse’s station, I asked about the proper way to get Jonah admitted. Connie Mumford pointed me to the right binder full of directions, and off I went. Contrary to when I did mental health assessments for the Clinic, I found out I was supposed to have put the MHA on the computer in the examining room. Instead I wrote it out. Crap. So I needed to transfer the info from paper to computer. Other than having to do that, I was pleased everything was computerized. I yearned for a paperless society, but the size of this binder told me that even though everything was on the computer at Bay General, it was still on paper as well.

I completed the work for Jonah’s admission, including getting a doctor’s signature. My sister Jill was on duty, as was Dougie. Of course I chose Jill. She skimmed over my notes, and digitally signed. She knew the psychiatrist on the unit would do a more thorough assessment, and since the patient was a voluntary admission, this was pretty much a
pro forma
admission.

I then contacted the unit to send down someone to pick up Jonah. I told Jonah and KATHY that their wait was just about over. Then I was done. And bored. Roaming around the ER only got me stern looks from people actually doing their jobs. So, with nothing else to do, I went back to the break room, my home away from home.

This time Carter really wasn’t there, so I sat in a comfy looking chair and turned on the TV. It wasn’t long before some paramedics came in. Danny Jacobsen sat down by me and asked if he could turn the channel. At my “yes” he switched to Jeopardy and the EMTs started yelling out answers. I soon joined in. A nice break from thinking about murder. And Clancy. At the thought of her I called the vet again and received basically the same report, with the addition that I could pick her up any time after seven tomorrow morning.