typea_all (13 page)

     I leaned across the table. "I am telling you the truth. I'll say it again real slow. I am doing nothing for that asshole. I was supposed to take his blood. It didn't work out in the lab, so I got permission to try it at his house. It didn't work out there either. For some reason, maybe because he's hot for me, I don't know, he sent Bruno around with these earrings."

     I pulled my hair back and showed him one of the diamond studs.

     "Nice rocks," he said. "Must be a caret each."

"That's what I thought."

"Reynolds always had good taste. And for what it's worth, if I wasn't married I'd be hot for you myself. You got spunk.  You don't look so well, though."

     "It's a hot flash." I was turning red and getting sweaty. "I get them all the time."

     "My wife used to get them, too. Have you tried that estrogen stuff?"

     "Not yet. I don't like taking medicines."

     "You should. It helped her." Great, now I'm taking medical advice from the mob.

     He stood up.

     "Just one word of warning. If I find out that you got anything more going on with Reynolds, I'll make you sorry for it.  I can take you breaking the Lincoln's windshield, and even Chester's arm, but I can't take being lied to."

     "Listen, if I knew I was going to get these hot spells the rest of my life, you could just shoot me right now." I started to get up as well.

     He must have thought that was funny, because he laughed, "Shoot you right now. That's good."

     He then turned around and walked out, followed by the two serious-looking guys who were eating Chinese food. Two other guys who I never noticed before walked out at the same time.

     Maybe I didn't know his name, but at least I knew that Chester was the name of the guy following me in the Lincoln.

     I drove home with all of the windows open and the air conditioner at full blast, not even caring if anyone was following me.

Chapter 12

     With the Sunday I had, I should have known that Monday wasn't going to be any better. It wasn't.

     After I finally woke up and got ready for work, I picked out my Cheap Date earrings. One was shaped like a hot dog, the other like a can of soda. I picked them out because I missed Ryan and felt lonely, like a cheap date on a Saturday night. How was I to know that the can of soda was an omen of things to come?

     The day started off with a complainer. Not a little kid who might be justified in complaining, but a teenage girl.  I just hate complainers.

     She came in about 2 PM with a real attitude. You know the type. A chip on her shoulder the size of a telephone pole, designer clothes, shoes, and handbag. Lots of jewelry, her newly rebuilt pig-like nose stuck up so far in the air she'd hit the roof if she sneezed.  She looked like she was dressed for an audience with the Queen, rather than a routine blood test.

     First, she was really annoyed that she had to wait 30 minutes before we took her.  "I have important things to do. I should not have been kept waiting in that room with all of those people." Gee, I'm sorry your highness, the VIP lounge is being carpeted.

     Then she couldn't find a place to put down her designer handbag. "I can't put my bag down there, it may get dirty. Don't you have any clean spots?"  I'll call the servants and have them sterilize the table for you.

     And then, she knew everything, just everything, about taking blood. "My left arm is always better, and my veins are easy to find. Do not pinch my arm with the tourniquet. I do not want to have a black and blue mark when I'm done, and I want to inspect the tubes to make certain my name is spelled correctly.  I don't want a large piece of gauze on the spot, but cut a piece just one half-inch square, and use a flesh colored, non-stick bandage."  And why don't you just take your damn blood yourself?

     As a trained professional, here's how I handled her. I ignored that fact that she had to wait, made her keep her handbag on her lap, and used her right arm, which actually had better veins.

After I tied the tourniquet, she yelled, "You made that too tight. It's pinching my arm."

     I removed the tourniquet and retied it exactly the same way.

     "Is that better?"

     "Not by much."

     I found the vein on the first try, but as I started to put in the needle, she pulled her arm back and yelled, "What are you doing? That hurts."

     "The needle didn't even go in yet. You should only feel a slight pinprick."

     "You were jabbing the needle in, and it was not a slight prick. It is obvious you don't know what you are doing."

     I ignored her. I pulled her arm back and inserted the needle. She started screaming.

     "That hurts! What are you doing?"

     I looked over for some support, but Joan had conveniently left the room. I'd have to ask Joan about that habit she has of disappearing, that was supposed to be my specialty.

     "I'm just taking your blood. It won't be long." I carefully checked the position of the needle and everything looked correct.

     "I just know that will leave a huge black and blue mark. How am I supposed to wear anything short sleeved? Do you know that I can sue if you damage my arm?" Great, now she's a lawyer and a debutant.

     "The tube is almost full. All I need is that one."

     "That better be all you need. You don't think I would let you take more, do you?"  Like I would want to. If I did, I'd have to rest first and get a cold drink.

     Just before the tube was full, I unhooked the tourniquet. I then withdrew the needle, and wiped the spot with a little alcohol.

     "That smells. I don't remember it smelling like that any other time I had my blood taken."

     "It’s just alcohol. The same type we always use."

     "Well, I'm telling you that it smells. It never smelled that way before."

     I took a huge piece of gauze, placed it on her arm, and stuck a children's cartoon bandage over it.

     "There you go, all done."

     "What's this on my arm? Didn't I tell you I wanted a small piece of gauze and a flesh colored non-stick bandage?"

     "I'm sorry, those are the only bandages we have left, and I do not have a sterile scissors to cut the gauze. You can remove it in an hour or so."

     "Well, I've never received this type of treatment before at any hospital. I won't be coming back here, I can tell you that. Imagine, they don't have flesh-colored bandages."

     She continued mumbling on the way out, forgetting to double-check the spelling of her name on the tubes.

My next patient was a Mr. Silcox.  The slip showed a complete drug profile, including a urinalysis. When I called his name, a young guy about 20 years old stood up and walked over. He was wearing an Eagles cap, a Grateful Dead tie-dyed t-shirt, and jeans with holes in the knees.  He was eating a slice of pizza and carrying a can of soda. As he got closer, I could see that his eyes were barely open and he hadn’t shaved in a few days. There were food stains all over the shirt; I could make out mustard and ketchup.

     "Come in and sit down. This won’t take long."

     "Whatever, man."

     I know that scrubs didn’t show my figure, but I would have been happier with ma'am. He didn’t say anything else the entire time I took his blood. Actually, he barely seemed awake through the whole thing. He’d close his eyes for a few seconds, and then pop them open and stare straight ahead.

     When I was done, I gave him the specimen cup and told him that we needed a urine sample.

     "Way ahead of you, man. Where’s the john?"

     "Go outside and to the left."  The men’s room was to the left directly outside of our lab. "But you have to leave your stuff here."

     "My stuff, man. I ain’t leaving my stuff."

     "There’s no place to put it in the men’s room, and we don’t allow containers. We have to make sure that the sample comes from you."

     "Huh?"

     "Some people try to sneak in other people’s urine when they are having a test for drugs."

     "No? You mean like you think someone pissed into this can?" He held up the can right in front of my nose, so close that I could smell the urine in it.  The brain surgeon didn't know it, but ASCPs have a special sense of smell for things like that. There's one bacterium that smells like grape juice; another is exactly like dirty diapers.  Of course in the real old days, before my time, lab staff tested urine for diabetes by tasting it - and if it was sweet, then the patient had it.
 

     "That's correct. So just leave the can here and you can go give us the sample."

     "It's just soda, that’s all.  I’m thirsty. Why can't I take it with me?"

     "It is against hospital policy. If you take the can with you, the test is invalid."

     "But it's only soda, man. Nobody pissed in it."

     "Well, why don’t you drink it now, if you’re thirsty? Then maybe I’ll let you take the can in with you."

     "Really?"

     "Yes."

     He lifted the can to his mouth but only pretended to drink; I could tell that he didn’t swallow anything.

     "See?"

     "You didn’t drink anything."

     "I did, man. I drank a lot."

     "You didn’t drink anything.  Now drink or leave the can here."

     He put the can up to lips and took a gulp.  "Okay now, man?"

     "No, not enough. Drink at least half of the can. I’ll put it in a cup for you, if you want."

     "That’s okay, man."

     He lifted the can up again and took a long drink out of it. 

     "Oh, man, I’m gonna be sick."

     "What's the matter?"

     "I feel sick, man. I got to heave."

     I grabbed the can from him and handed him the specimen cup. "Go throw up and then give us the specimen.  Just out the door and to the left."

     After he ran out of the room, Joan and I started laughing.

     "I can't believe you made him do that," Joan laughed.

     "It was his fault.  He didn't have to drink it."

     "Did you see his face? That was great."

     I waited a few minutes for him to bring back the cup. When he didn't come back right away, I called in the next patient.  I was already done with that patient when Silcox walked back in.

     "That wasn't cool, man, not cool."

     "What are you talking about?" I asked.

     "Where you told me to go. That bathroom didn't have no sink, no john, no nothing."

     "Just out the door and to the left?"

     "Yeah, that's where I went. Just outside and to the left."

     "That's where the bathroom is."

     "No way."

     "Tell you what. Show me where you went."

     He walked out of the lab, but instead of turning to the left, he kept on walking out of the building itself.

     "Where are you going?"

     "Where you told me, outside and to the left."

     The door on the left outside of our building led to the in-vitro lab where Gail and Eileen worked. There was a small foyer, with two doors that led into the lab’s lobby. 

     Through the window of the outer door, I could see Gail and another person talking animatedly.  The woman with Gail turned and looked out the window, pointed to Silcox, and then said something to Gail.

     Now I knew where Silcox gave his sample and threw up his drink. In their lobby.

     "It’s okay, Mr. Silcox. I have your sample now, why don’t you leave now. And make it fast."

******

     Before the end of the day, I had to get some information that I’d need for tomorrow, the day of reckoning for one Jerry Odem, disorderly orderly. I looked up the extension for personnel in the hospital directory and dialed.

     "Hello. I'm a nurse on the third floor."

     "How can I help you?"

     "Jerry Odem is being interviewed tomorrow for a supervisory position."

     "That's correct."

     "Jerry asked me to meet him there with a letter of recommendation. Can you tell me the location and time of the interview?"

     "Certainly, hold on."  She came back. "It’s scheduled for the main conference room, at 2 PM."

     "Thank you. You've been very helpful."  People are just so gullible.

******