Читать книгу Crisis: Blue - J. A. Davis - Страница 12

Chapter 6

It was quarter to seven and, like clockwork, Dr. Hanz “Pretty Boy” Bleeker and Dr. Fred “Fast Freddie” Leadbury had arrived to relieve the watch.

Hanz was a paranoid, thirty-five-year old white male, going on eighteen. His black scrubs and dark, slicked back hair left no doubt that he was of Italian descent. He had been hired at Carencrow Regional only weeks before. He was rather reserved, so Wanda quickly decided to break the ice. She felt compelled to ask the question that everyone thought they knew the answer to.

“You’re awfully pretty. You ain’t gay, are you?” Wanda asked.

“Hell, no!” Hanz shot back in his own defense as he tried to analyze why this splint-sporting Ewok would ask such an insulting question.

He did, in fact, appear rather effeminate, but his preoccupation and daily ritual of chasing every pretty girl in a short skirt left little doubt as to his sexual preference.

“Wanda, how could you embarrass Dr. Bleeker like that? Pretty Boy is all dog!” Boom Boom replied in the newly hired physician’s defense.

“Thank you, Boom Boom,” Hanz responded with genuine appreciation before slipping away from the counter to hit on one of the hot nurses.

Several minutes later Hanz strolled over to Rex. He looked around the ER, saw the mayhem, and just shook his head. He didn’t have the courage to look at the number of charts stacked on the salad bar.

“Well, what do you have?” Hanz asked in a rather discouraged tone.

“Another day in paradise,” Rex replied, knowing he had one foot out the door. He was quite pleased that he had semi-survived another grueling shift.

Hanz didn’t like working the night shifts, as he always had difficulty sleeping during the day. Today had been no different.

“Christ, Hanz, you look like a walking zombie,” Rex noted.

“I didn’t sleep a wink.”

“Well, it shows,” Rex chuckled. “Whenever you regain full consciousness, let me know, and I’ll give you the report. However, you’re not going to be pleased,” Rex added.

“I can clearly see that, but it’s now or never,” Hanz replied while rubbing his bloodshot eyes.

“In room one… Finally, in room twelve there is a young man who ended up being the consult from hell. The patient is a five-year-old boy transferred in from an outlying hospital for a neurosurgical consult, a phrase that has become an oxymoron in recent months. A friend pushed him down a stairwell earlier today, and he struck his head. Clinically he looks good, but he has a large subdural hematoma, which radiology believes could possibly be an epidural bleed. I contacted the neurosurgeon on call.”

“I can only imagine how that phone conversation went with that ornery SOB,” Hanz chuckled.

“Not well at all—imagine that. He even had the audacity to tell me that my consult was Mickey Mouse bullshit and there was no way in hell he was going to come in to evaluate the patient. Dr. Earnest ‘Hot Rod’ Kelly is on for pediatrics and has agreed to admit the patient, with neuro checks to be conducted every hour. So, thankfully you don’t need to get involved, unless his condition takes a turn for the worse,” Rex concluded, much to Hanz’s delight.

“Every day in this jungle is a battle, with danger around every corner. Be very, very careful Rrrrex. You and I are expendable. The less-than-friendly neurosurgeon, Dr. Fubar, brings this hospital a great deal of money. Carencrow Regional will do anything and everything to keep the arrogant SOB happy in order to preserve their cash flow—even if that means covering up your sudden departure from this Earth, or his medical negligence. Stay focused, and don’t take it personally,” Boom Boom recommended after overhearing a portion of Rex’s conversation with Hanz.

“Once again you have provided sound advice,” Rex replied gratefully.

“Why don’t you and Trissy get the hell out of here?” Hanz suggested, knowing that it was time to buckle down and get to work before the next disaster rolled through the door.

“Sounds good; we have dinner reservations in an hour.”

“To which of the two decent restaurants in the town are you going?” Hanz asked while reviewing one of the many charts piled in front of him.

“Rula’s,” Rex replied.

“I recommend the ‘Chum Jong Il’ Salmon,” Hanz suggested, knowing that the restaurant was owned by an evil North Korean named Chum.

“All I want is a Mai Tai,” Rex added, moments before the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. From out of nowhere Teresa Talon appeared, walking toward the coordinator’s desk. Somehow this sinister ER director of nursing had escaped from the safety of her glass cage. Teresa’s eyes were bloodshot, the veins in her forehead and neck engorged, and her ears were a brilliant crimson. Even her hair looked angry.

“Y’all are not seeing the patients fast enough. They are complaining, and management wants some answers,” Teresa shouted, interrupting all conversations while the shift change was in progress.

“Teresa, it’s been so busy that none of the nurses have even had the chance to take a lunch break. Perhaps you should consider hiring more nurses,” Trissy suggested.

“That’s not my fault,” Teresa shot back curtly. “If you worked more efficiently you would have time for lunch.”

“Teresa, may I recommend you invest in a Viking hat for Sheila and instruct her to beat a drum in a cadence reflecting the speed with which we should be seeing the patients?” Wanda suggested.

“How big do you want the drum to be?” Teresa replied sarcastically, scrutinizing all the dissenters carefully. “There are going to be some big changes around here as a result of your lollygagging. Now get to work!” Teresa shouted before rushing off in a huff.

“Lollygagging! That dingbat works four days a week, and then has the audacity to hang a ‘Gone Sailing’ sign on her door so she can enjoy a three day weekend!” Wanda retorted.

“No worries, Wanda,” replied Trissy. “It’s nice to be appreciated, but I’m lollygagging my way out of here. See ya tomorrow!”

“I’m not sure about the hat or the drum, but the thought of rough leather is rather appealing,” Sheila moaned in ecstasy.

Boom Boom shook his head, then turned toward Fast Freddie to finish giving his report.

“What in tarnation has gotten into Teresa?” Fast Freddie asked.

“Who knows, but for once I can truly say that I’m not to blame,” Rex assured his coworkers, although as usual they remained skeptical any time Rex ushered a defense.

“Yeah, right,” Sheila chuckled.

“Well, Hanz. That’s all she wrote,” Rex said with a smile.

Rex and Trissy slipped out the ambulance door just as a smiling Mean and Evil were slithering back in.

“Those buzzards are looking just a little too happy for my comfort,” Rex confided in Trissy, wondering if the two birds had come from Teresa’s office or from one of their countless cigarette breaks.