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chapter 14

Heartthrob, Chest Pain, and Gin’s Disdain

OHSU Telemetry Unit

November 2005

Gin was just walking out of the break room, where morning report had finally concluded. Her shift started at 6:45 a.m. with a report from the night shift, which usually took around half an hour or so. This particular morning, things had gone pretty quickly, as the preceding night had been rather uneventful, so she was glad to have a few extra minutes to organize her plan for the day. As she passed the nurses’ station for unit 2B, a cardiac telemetry unit, her thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing. Where’s the unit secretary? she thought to herself, but then realized she started at 7:00 a.m. and report this morning had lasted only ten minutes. Oh well, might as well get it myself, she mused as she picked up the phone. “2B, Virginia Morrison, RN, how may I help?”

The voice on the other end of the line didn’t sound nearly as relaxed. “Hey Gin, it’s Tom in the ER. Got a new admit for you. 43-year-old white male with chest discomfort. He came into the ER around 5:00 a.m—wife brought him in. Apparently, he woke up with some fluttering in his chest that wouldn’t subside. His EKG was negative, but he’s now had several of these episodes lately and his doc wanted him admitted and monitored while they did some additional testing. Name is Terry Kingsley—about 50 pounds overweight, smoker, light drinker, but heavy on the diet drinks. Desk job, no exercise, usual profile…don’t these people ever get it? We’ve had crap like this all night long. Overweight, stressful job, poor diet, no exercise—and they wonder why they wake up with chest pain. Hey, sorry I’m ragin’ on ya. Just been a bad night down here. How are things up on tele?”

Gin felt a little guilty with her response. “Piece o’ cake up here, Tom. Sorry you had a bad night. Go ahead and send Mr. Kingsley up. I’m sure he’ll be my patient—I only have two others at the moment. Wouldn’t have a job without you, brother. Go home and get some sleep!”

“Yeah, right. It’s summer, kids are outa school, and Mary’s job starts at nine. Not much rest for this guy!”

“Well, don’t end up like Mr. Kingsley,” Gin cautioned. “Aren’t they old enough for some summer activities?”

“Yeah, Vacation Bible School at the church starts next week. Can’t wait for that! Anyway, he’ll be comin’ up shortly, darlin’. Gotta hit the freeway before the traffic gets any worse!”

“Ok, Tom, thanks,” Gin replied, thinking to herself, Wow, that would really be a bitch—havin’ to work all night and then struggle with traffic just to get to bed. Sure glad I can walk to work!

Since she graduated from OHSU nursing school a couple of years ago now, Gin had decided to hang around Pill Hill, as the medical complex was laughingly referred to there in Portland. She loved the Marquam Hill area, actually, and often went for hikes in the Marquam Nature Preserve, just down the street from her apartment. There were great views from the hill there, looking down at Portland and farther east to the airport and Mt. Hood. Portland was a fun, exciting city—an alternative city, really, where the norm was not the norm, so to speak. Liberal thinkers, punk rockers, cutting-edge science—you could find it all in Portland! She had stayed on in the OHSU hospital system because she loved research, and there were always professors and students of one type or another hanging around the hospital there. And best of all, of course, were all those cute young doctors, one of whom she secretly hoped to snag before too long. She always had her eye out for a good prospect, but so far none had materialized. It seemed like ages since she had a serious relationship—no time in school, and then the stress of a new job. She had settled in now, though, and hopes of storybook hospital romance lingered in the back of her mind.

Not for long, though, as the sound of the elevator doors opening quickly brought her back to her floor and the tasks of the day. “I got Mista Kingsley heah,” the young African American orderly announced as the doors closed. “Which one o’ y’all gonna hep me wid’ ’em—get ’em to ’is room an’ all?”

“Hey, Marcus,” Gin replied, “Mr. Kingsley’ll be my patient. I already got the report from Tom. Just leave the paperwork here at the desk, and I’ll show you to his room—that’ll be 211, I think.”

“Thanks, Ms. Ginny,” Marcus replied. He had only worked there for about four months now, but already Virginia Morrison was his favorite nurse. He always looked forward to visiting her floor just to see her long red hair, cute green eyes, and cheerful smile. “How you doin’ this mornin’?” he asked with a big grin himself.

“Why, much better since I’ve seen you, Marcus!” Gin playfully teased. “You gonna help me get him to his room?”

“Sho am, Ms. Ginny. You jus’ lead on, an’ I’ll be right behind you.” And right behind her was definitely a place Marcus liked to be. For a white girl, she had one fine booty, and he enjoyed watching her hips sway back and forth as she walked down the hall. Got a nice balance on top too, he thought to himself as Gin turned her shoulder back to speak, giving him an enticing view of her profile.

“How’ve you been, Marcus? Haven’t seen much of you around here lately.”

“Well, Ms. Ginny, I been around. ER keeps me goin’ all ova da place, so I doesn’t get up to yo’ flo’ all that much. Always good to see you, tho’!”

“You, too, Marcus,” she grinned. “Ok, let’s get Mr. Kingsley off the gurney and into his bed.” With that, Gin turned to her new patient and announced, “Mr. Kingsley, I’m Virginia Morrison. I’ll be your primary nurse while you’re here on the telemetry floor. That means I’ll be planning and organizing your care while you’re here, and personally caring for you on the day shift when I am on duty.” As Mr. Kingsley slipped off the stretcher and onto his bed, Gin thanked Marcus and continued, “I understand that you have had several bouts of this chest discomfort recently and your physician has admitted you to run some additional tests just to be sure that it isn’t something serious. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, I guess I worried him a bit. Myself, too, for that matter. Several mornings in the past few weeks, I’ve woken up with a strange feeling in my chest. Not pain, really, just not normal. More like a fluttering—like my heart isn’t beating normally. This morning was more so than usual, so my wife brought me in, and here I am. I really can’t afford to lose the time at work. I need to get outa here.”

“Well, I can certainly understand that,” Gin agreed sympathetically. “I wouldn’t be here either if I didn’t work here,” she smiled. “Anyway, I’m just going to attach these leads to your chest so that we can watch the electrical activity of your heart while you’re here. There’s a little pack sort of thing you can wear around your neck that will also record your heart’s activity on a flash drive for your doctor to review later on. Bottom line, we’ll all be keeping a close watch on your heart while you’re here. I’m sure there will also be quite a few other tests that will be done as well. Any questions at the moment?”

“No, not really. I just want to get outa here as soon as possible. I’ve got a big project at work that really needs my full attention.”

“I understand,” Gin concurred. “I’ll be back in shortly to do a nursing history and assessment so that I can best plan your care while you’re here. In the meantime, here’s a call button, which will alert us if you need anything. You can be up and around in your room if you like, and the bath is just behind me. There’s a TV if you’re interested, or there’s Wi-Fi available if you need to do some computer work. I’ll be back soon,” she reassured him as she left the room.

As she opened the door, Gin almost collided with a small herd of what she assumed must be medical students. Their instructor, Dr. Friedman, was filling them in on the telemetry unit, its capabilities, and how it interfaced with both higher and lower levels of care. Upon seeing Gin, he paused for a brief introduction. “And, ladies and gentlemen, this attractive young lady who almost ran into me is Virginia Morrison, who I believe is now the 7–3 charge nurse on this unit. Isn’t that correct, Ms. Morrison?” he queried, looking over at Gin.

“Yes, sir, as of last week,” Gin smiled, “and a warm welcome to all of you!” she quickly added, looking out over the group.

“Students, I’ll just tell you now—if you need anything while you’re here, this is the young lady you’ll want to find. Ms. Morrison knows everything about this unit and all the patients on it, so I’m sure she will be happy to be a resource for you while you’re here.”

“Thank you, Dr. Friedman,” Gin beamed. “I’ve been here for two years,” she added, “and probably learned a few things during that time. Just make yourselves at home, and I’ll be happy to assist you in any way that I can.”

With that, she started to move out of their midst and back toward the nursing station. In doing so, however, she couldn’t help but notice a tall figure at the back of the group, probably at least a head taller than the rest. He was slim, with piercing brown eyes, long black hair, a black mustache, and darkly tanned skin. Wow! Gin thought to herself. That guy is the spitting image of Yanni! (who just happened to be one of her favorite pianists and recording artists.) Unbelievable, and right on my floor too! This is my lucky day! she thought, moving through the group toward him. As she looked up, her eyes locked onto his for a brief moment, but long enough for goose bumps to appear on her arms. “Hello,” she said, almost instinctively, before she had a chance to recover. In another two seconds she knew the encounter would be over, but not before the sound of his voice almost completely dissolved her entire being.

“Hi there,” came a whimsical, almost-playful response, before their eyes politely unlocked.

“Hope you like it here,” she added in a desperate last moment of engagement as she brushed by, trying not to appear too interested.

“I’m sure I will,” came the reassuring answer floating somewhere behind her now. Oh, if she could only just turn around and look into those dark, soulful eyes one more time, but she dared not. She had to look professional. She had to appear busy. And yet…

“See ya,” Gin added, moving quickly down the hall and hoping beyond all hope that she would indeed see him again soon.

That reverie was quickly interrupted by the sound of the unit secretary’s voice. “Ginny, ER just called up another admission—a 991 call with seizures, cardiac arrest, and loss of consciousness. Some friends called for an ambulance. ER confirms coke overdose. Guy’s awake now, but somewhat disoriented, with continuing tachycardia and elevated BP. They want us to monitor him till he stabilizes, then off to rehab. Is 210 ok?”

“Sure, that’s right across the hall from my last admission. Tom’s crazy night’s now landing on us!”

Minutes later, the elevator door opened, with Marcus attempting to subdue a rather scruffy-looking middle-aged man who was screaming at the top of his lungs. “Get me outa this goddamn place! I don’t belong in here. I just overdid it a little, that’s all. No big deal. Who the fuck is she?” he shrieked in Gin’s direction.

“That’s Ms. Morrison, suh,” Marcus stated almost in a whisper, attempting to calm his patient down. “She gonna take care o’ yo’ ass while you up hea’, get it? Now you jus’ settle yoself down or we gonna settle you down—take yo’ pick, brotha.” Marcus didn’t like it when patients were rude to Gin.

She smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Marcus. Let’s get this gentleman to room 210, ok? What’s his name, by the way?”

Before Marcus could answer, the patient came to his assistance. “Scumby, Frank Fuckin’ Scumby. Now will somebody please get me outa here? There’s nothin’ wrong with me—just a little too much coke, that’s all! And that ain’t no soft drink neither, sweetheart,” he added, struggling with Marcus to get off the gurney.

“Hmmm…that name sounds familiar,” Gin thought out loud. Then she remembered—he was the guy in the psych ward her senior year in nursing school. Jerk then, and still a jerk now. “Well, Mr. Scumby, I believe we have met before.”

Frank stopped struggling for a moment and looked over at Gin with an evil grin. “Oh yeah? Well, hike up your skirt and spread your legs, sweetheart, and I’ll see if I recognize you!” Then with a bit of a sneer, he added, “I’m sure I’d remember those tits, too, if you’d just uncover ’em a bit! Don’t remember if I ever made it to your pussy, but I’ll be happy to take a peek anyway, darlin’.”

Gin felt her face flush as she fought to control herself. “Nursing student, psych ward, two and a half years ago, Mr. Scumby. Unfortunately for you, there’s no instructor between us this time,” she continued convincingly.

“Ahhh…I remember now. Mother hen and the little chickees. One little redheaded chickee that almost lost it. Mama had to shoo her away from ole Frank here. Oh yeah, sweetie, I remember you. Haven’t changed much either, looks like.”

“It appears that you are the one who hasn’t changed much, Mr. Scumby. Still doing the same self-destructive things that require other people to bail you out. Why don’t you just grow up and actually become a contributing member of society? Now that would be something worth remembering!”

“Ouuu…little sensitive, aren’t we darlin’?” Frank jeered. “I’ll tell you what—you unbutton that blouse and give Frankie just one peek at those perky tits of yours an’ I’ll be a reformed man for sure!”

Without hesitating, Ginny replied, “Mr. Scumby, if I thought for one moment that showing you my breasts would turn your life around, rest assured these scrubs would be on the floor faster than you could open your eyes. Unfortunately, I find you to be one of the most vile and disgusting men I have ever had the displeasure of meeting, and quite frankly, ‘Frankie’, I doubt that you will ever be anything but a useless, wasted, poor excuse for a human being. Marcus, please take Mr. Scumbag to his room before I say something I might regret!”

With that, Gin turned and walked down the hall, smiling to herself and leaving Marcus with his eyes as big as saucers and Frank feeling for once that he had lost the upper hand. “Bitch!” he hissed at her back. “Fuckin’ redheaded bitch!”

As Gin walked toward the nurses’ station, she heard the secretary’s voice beckoning her once again. “Ginny, your new admit in 211, Mr. Kingsley, has been calling for you. Seems a bit apprehensive and anxious to get back to work. I told him you would be down as soon as you can.”

“Thanks, Marla,” Gin replied. Looking over at Mick, who was positioned in front of a bank of cardiac monitors, she asked, “Hey, Mick, anything unusual with 211?”

Looking up, Mick replied, “Hey, Gin…wow, you’ve been busy this morning! No, not really. PVC here and there, probably just under a lot of stress. Oh, he did have one short burst of atrial flutter, but it resolved quickly.”

“Not surprising—he was complaining of fluttering sensations in his chest. You ran a strip for the doc, right?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress, probably mostly self-induced. He needs to make some serious changes in his life or he may not be so lucky in the future. I’ll go down and talk with him. Thanks, Mick.”

“Sure Gin…better take it a little easier yourself. Heard you got pretty worked up with that last admit—Scumby the Dopehead, or whatever his name is.”

“Yeah, our paths have crossed before. He’s about as low as a human can sink. He should just kill himself and get it over with—make the world a better place for sure. Hopefully he’ll be out of here and on to rehab soon. I’m goin’ to check on Kingsley…”

Terry Kingsley was not a man to waste time. Since his arrival on the telemetry unit, he had been on the phone constantly with his office. As Gin entered the room, he was sitting up in bed with two laptop computers on his overbed table and a cell phone lodged between his shoulder and his ear. “Tell them no deal,” he stated firmly. “That’s in a great building with a fabulous western view. It’s worth well over 2.5 mil.! I’ll get back with you,” he added, noticing Gin in the doorway.

“Ms. Morrison, how much longer do I have to stay in here, anyway? I’ve been here two hours and have been poked and prodded from just about every angle. Anything showing up on your fancy heart monitors?”

“Well, Mr. Kingsley, we are seeing a few PVCs—actually, more frequently than is normal. And you did have a short run of atrial flutter.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Well, basically that you’re having some irregular heartbeats. The atrial flutter will cause you to feel something like palpitations.”

“Yeah, that’s what woke me up this morning and why my wife brought me in. What causes that?”

“Oh, any number of things. Could just be the stress of your job or, possibly, something more serious. I’m sure your doctor will get to the bottom of it, though.”

“And what’s a PVC?”

“I’m sorry. Premature ventricular contraction. It means that a part of your heart called the ventricle—the part that pumps blood out to the rest of your body—is contracting a little irregularly.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, it certainly can be if it persists or worsens. Poor diet, stress, lack of sleep…things like that are often responsible. I’m sure you have none of that in your life, though, right?” Gin tilted her head down, raised an eyebrow, and looked a little skeptically over at Mr. Kingsley.

“Well, what am I supposed to do? I’m a principal broker with a large real estate firm, and it’s my job to see that the office is running smoothly, that transactions are handled correctly, and that all my agents are performing as expected. Should I do a few chants and take a yoga break or something? Keep a bowl of sprouts on my desk to munch on? What do you suggest, Ms. Morrison?”

Gin raised her chin and looked him directly in the eye. “Well, I suppose that would depend on what’s more important to you—your job or your life. That decision should help you put things a bit more into perspective. This was a wake-up call. Next time you may not wake up at all. Is your job worth that?”

“Not really, no,” Terry said with a sigh. “I love what I do, but I’m definitely not ready to die. I have young kids and a beautiful wife who depend on me. I make a lot of money and I’m very successful, but no, none of it is worth dying for. What do you suggest I do?”

“Get some balance in your life,” Gin suggested. “Your job is stressful, but you seem to thrive on it. You just carry it too far. Draw the line…take off weekends, be through at five, set some boundaries. Learn to delegate. I’m sure you have other people that can handle these sorts of issues when you’re not there. If not, I strongly suggest that you begin grooming someone. Next, start to appreciate your body, not abuse it. Regular exercise is critical. Find something that you enjoy that is physically strenuous and do it several times a week. Take walks with your wife. Set up a home gym if you don’t have time to go to one. Definitely stop smoking. Nicotine is a potent vasoconstrictor—tightens your blood vessels—which aggravates any existing disease. Rethink your diet: no fast foods, minimal sugar, no sodas, diet or otherwise, no processed foods, lots of organic fruits and vegetables. Maybe get a low-RPM juicer—an Omega or something similar that preserves the natural enzymes—and blend some fruits and vegetables into a drink that you like. Eat a salad at least twice a day—I even eat salad for breakfast, if you can believe that! Choose colorful things like apples, oranges, berries, purple cabbage, red peppers, tomatoes, carrots, dark-green things like kale, spinach, romaine lettuce, and the like. Throw in half a lemon, an avocado, some cilantro, parsley, celery, and a few nuts of your choosing, and you’ll have a pretty powerful meal! Eat less and not late at night. Minimize meats and then only wild or grass-fed. Get on a good supplement program. Drink plenty of filtered water. Cut down the alcohol to an occasional glass of red wine. No white stuff—white flour, sugar, or rice. No doughnuts, cakes, candies, cookies, pies, etc. No high-fructose corn syrup. ABSOLUTELY no diet sodas! Minimal, if any, dairy products. No GMO foods. All organics. Get plenty of rest—in bed by 10:00 p.m. Starting to get the picture, Terry?”

“Wow, I don’t do ANY of those things, not even one! That sounds like a lot of change. I’m not sure I’m up to all that.”

“Do what you can. Stop smoking, for starters. That has to be the most retarded practice on the planet. Start exercising! How hard is that? Find something you like and do it! Get more sleep. Cut out the sodas. Make just a few dietary changes, like the salads. Surely you can at least do that, can’t you?”

“I guess. Sounds like I really don’t have much choice, do I?” Terry looked like he had just lost his best friend. “This really sounds overwhelming! I’ve been smoking for twenty years—I’m not sure I can even stop doing that, let alone all the rest.”

“That’s totally up to you.” Gin reached down and touched his hand. “You’re a responsible executive, Mr. Kingsley. Run your body like you run your business. I’m sure you wouldn’t tolerate practices at work that you could see were ruining your reputation and profit margins, would you? Take care of your body in the same way. Wake up and stop being manipulated by industries and corporations that have no interest in your well-being. Take charge of your health as if it were your real estate firm. No slacking. No excuses. Just good performance. The universe is giving you another chance, and I’m your messenger. You won’t be running anything from the grave site!”

“Wow, you don’t let up, do you?” Terry looked into Gin’s eyes and felt the warmth of her hand on his. For just a moment, and most unexpectedly, it felt like there were no boundaries between them—that she was him and he was her—both a part of something bigger and more beautiful than he could even describe. It only lasted an instant, but as their eyes met, there was no more separateness, no isolation, no struggle. There was only a gentle peace, an overwhelming sense of just being loved, and a surprising compassion and connection with all of life. For once, he was at a loss for words; he just wanted to hold her hand and keep that feeling forever.

“Mr. Kingsley, have I lost you?” Gin’s voice suddenly brought him back to the world of time and space, hospitals and nurses, life and death.

“No, I’m here, Ms. Morrison. Just had a flash of something I’ve never experienced before, that’s all. I hear you loud and clear. I want to be a part of life, not death. There’s an exciting world of potential here…things that I haven’t taken the time to explore at all. Thank you for what you said. I will leave here a different person because of you. I am forever grateful to you for that.”

“Not me, Mr. Kingsley. I’m just the messenger, like we all are, if we allow ourselves to be, that is. Now go, change your life, and be an example for someone else who needs the message. I’ve gotta run now,” Gin lamented as she withdrew her hand and rose to her feet. “The guy next door needs more than any of us can give, I’m afraid. Best of luck to you, Terry. I know you’ll make it, and I’d better not see you here ever again!” Gin added with a no-nonsense wink as she left the room.

Across the hall in room 210, it was a different scene altogether. The medication had mellowed Frank a bit, and he was starting to be a bit less combative, but certainly not what anyone would describe as cooperative. “Hey, tits…I mean toots…oh, whatever your name is, where you been? Little Frankie here’s had a hard-on for you all mornin’!” he grinned, patting a noticeable bulge between his legs and fortunately under the bed sheets.

Gin rolled her eyes. Here we go again. God, I can’t stand this guy. I really just want him out of here. “Hello Mr. Scumby. I see you’re feeling a bit better, now that the cocaine is wearing off. Hopefully we’ll be able to discharge you shortly. Your heart rate and BP have settled down to normal. Looks like your behavior has as well.”

“Well, darlin’, just seein’ that red hair and those tits o’ yours again has made the whole thing worthwhile. One of these days we’ll meet on my turf, and maybe I’ll get to enjoy a few of your other assets,” he grinned sardonically. “The thought o’ you droppin’ your scrubs back there in the hallway’s still on my mind, though. I’d sure like to see that before I go!”

“Not much chance of that, I’m afraid, Mr. Scumby. I’ve got other business to attend to now, so if you need anything else, please don’t ask for me. I have really listened to more than enough of your insulting comments already today. I’m not sure if the doctor is going to discharge you completely or refer you to drug rehab again. Most likely the former, since you seem to have little or no rehab potential. At any rate, have a nice life and thank you so much for gracing us with your presence again today!” Gin was almost out the door when she heard Frank’s parting assessment.

“Cute ass, Red Riding Hood. Hope I’ll see more of it next time!”

Some people never change, she thought. As she passed by Mr. Kingsley’s room, however, she sincerely hoped that he might be an exception.