[Gina Mazzio RN 01.0 - 03.0] Bone Set

by JJ Lamb

  As usual, Harry didn’t budge when the alarm went off; he continued to snore softly. She stretched out her arms, reached for the ceiling, then rolled over and gently blew into his ear until he opened one eye.

  “How do you ever manage without me when you’re on the road?”

  “I never have anyone interesting to snuggle, so I might as well get to work.” He opened his arms; she slid up against him. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “Totally.” He was so warm and cuddly she wanted to throw the covers over her head and cancel the day; just relax and fall back to sleep with her head buried in his chest. But she forced herself to roll away and sit on the edge of the bed. And as she had so many times in the last few days, she ignored that inner voice that told her to pack her bags and go back to California. Instead, she set one foot on the floor, then the other, and pushed off.

  She started singing, Oh, What a Beautiful Morning, in a high, broken falsetto, while she danced around the room, her voice getting louder and louder.

  “Okay, I give up.” Harry leaped out of the covers and raced to the coffee machine, getting everything together for breakfast. His movements were so fast it made her head swim. In a flash he took off for the bathroom.

  “You rat, how do you always manage to beat me to the BR when I’m the first one out of bed?”

  He poked his head out the door. “Talent, my dear Watson.”

  Gina rummaged through her drawer of scrubs and picked out a burgundy set that had seen enough washing to be soft and comfortable. She quickly got dressed.

  Harry finally ambled out of the bathroom stark naked. He wasn’t tall, but years of working out gave him the hint of a six-pack and nonstop muscular shoulders. When you threw in his baby blue eyes and curly mop of hair, Gina thought he was really something hot to look at.

  “Too late to tempt me now, Mr. Lucke. I only have enough time to use the potty, eat, and get to work on time. And that’s because we’re only a floor away from the action.”

  He laughed, reached out, wrapped himself around her and pressed everything he had against her. “There’s always later, beautiful.”

  * * *

  They stepped out onto the second floor and the elevator slammed shut behind them, Harry immediately tuned in to a distinct clatter coming from what had to be a climbing dumbwaiter. The sound emanated from the opposite wall. It took him a moment to zero in on it—the access door was well camouflaged, with only a small, protruding aluminum knob to indicate it existed at all.

  He pointed. “See that? That’s what I call a logical food delivery system for this small facility. I barely noticed it before.”

  Gina nodded.

  The second floor landing’s walls were painted a soft gray-blue. Opposite the elevator was a tall artificial palm whose fronds spread up and across the ceiling as though it was searching for a way out. The phony plant was housed inside a huge Asian celadon-glazed pot; it sat on a thick gray carpet that effectively muffled most sounds on the floor—footsteps, voices, and even the noise of the dumbwaiter.

  Harry’s imagination turned the corridor, where he would tread onto a narrow bridge between two exciting worlds. That was why he’d become a travel nurse—he’d wanted to see the world, see strange and exotic places. Almost instantly reality kicked in and he knew he was merely poised between the two patient wings of a Nevada medical facility in the good old U.S. of A.

  Gina looked nervous; she was running a hand through her black curly hair, and her dark eyes were wide open, blinking rapidly.

  He squeezed her hand. “You’ll be great.”

  She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and walked toward Wing A, while he turned and went into Wing B.

  He caught sight of the nurses’ station and the orderly he would work with.

  Looks like I’m about to meet the other muscleman from the elevator ride yesterday.

  “Hi, I’m Harry, Harry Lucke, one of the new nurses.” He extended a hand; the man gave him a lopsided grin.

  “Are you really lucky, Harry?”

  “Lucky enough,” Harry said, refusing to let his hand drop.

  “I’m Peter,” the orderly said, barely returning the handshake. “You’ll never guess why they call me Peter the Great.”

  If you’re anything like Rocky, it’s because you’re a great big pain in the ass.

  “No, I can’t imagine why.”

  “It’s because I’m a great cocksman … big with the women … if you know what I mean.” Peter gave him another one of his half-assed grins. You couldn’t ignore the idiot, because like Rocky, the man had muscles popping out of his eyebrows.

  Enough of this bullshit.

  “Where’s the charge nurse, Pete?”

  “Allison had to leave early. I’m with you on this shift.” He tossed Harry a ring of keys.

  An orderly passing me narcotics keys? Hmmm. Pretty loose operation.

  Harry moved behind the desk, pulled out a tattered Procedure Manual and did a quick thumb-through. He looked around—nothing unusual about the area. Well, nothing except that it was an undersized nurses’ station with a narcotic cabinet twice the size found in a standard hospital unit.

  “And the census?”

  “Fifteen patients, as usual.” Pete’s eyes bored into his. “Fifteen on A and fifteen on B. Although I hear we’re gonna be cuttin’ back real soon.”

  “You have a constant turnover?”

  “You could say that. They just keep movin’ them in and movin’ them out.”

  Harry was losing patience. The guy not only had attitude, he had a huge black mole in the middle of his chin—it kept yanking at Harry’s attention.

  “As I mentioned to Ethan, the facility seems understaffed. This wing holds a lot of patients for just the two of us to handle safely.”

  Yes. I do see why they’re paying us so much money.

  “We used to have another pair of hands until a month ago,” Pete said, “but they just keep droppin’ off like flies.” He gave Harry a knowing smile, which made the mole on his face look like it was a fly about to jump off. “One day they’re here, the next day, they … ain’t.”

  A sudden scream pierced their conversation. Harry’s inner alarm went off., making his scalp tingle.

  “What the hell is that?”

  Pete was unperturbed. He stood. “They’ll all be doin’ that if you don’t move your ass and get them their dope.”

  * * *

  Delores Scott was waiting at the Nurses’ station for Gina; she had that blood-drained face people have after they leave a rollercoaster ride that was supposed to be fun.

  “Rough night?” Gina said.

  “No more than usual.”

  They both turned to look at Rocky as he arrived at the desk whistling. His movements were a study of contradictions—heavily muscled, yet light on his feet, like a dancer. He looked at Gina with testosterone-filled eyes. The man was really creepy.

  “This is Rocky Salvo.” Delores’s voice climbed enough for Gina to know something was out of kilter. “He’ll be assisting you with the patients."

  Gina looked at the orderly. “We met right here yesterday, remember?”

  Gina couldn’t believe it. Rocky had not only ignored her question; he’d already turned his back on both of them.

  Delores kept right on with her orientation. “You’ll find a complete computer profile on every patient on the floor. An oral report won’t be necessary,” she said in a snippy voice. “So there won’t be one.”

  “Maybe you could give tell me something about the patients,” Gina said. “I’d like to know—”

  Rocky interrupted, whistling again as he walked away from the station toward the patient rooms.

  “Is he always this rude?”

  Delores’s pale complexion turned a shade whiter. “I think you’ll find that both Rocky and Pete, the other orderly on the Wing B, pretty much do their own thing.”

  “Their own thing?”

  Delores started gathering her stuff
together. She rummaged around in her purse. “When I first started here I was feisty and curious like you. My advice to you, Gina: mind your own business and just do the job, which is mostly checking custodial needs and handing out pain meds.”

  “What about the study? What’s the lowdown on these patients?”

  Delores hefted her purse onto her shoulder and was definitely ready to take off. “What low down?”

  “Okay. What do you think—?”

  “What’s there to think about?” Delores started down the corridor, looked back at Gina and said, “Didn’t Ethan tell you … the patients in this facility are finished with the study.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Delores just kept walking and was gone in an instant.

  Chapter 9

  Gina was at a loss for words; she was actually dumbstruck as she watched Delores leave the unit, move toward the elevator, and vanish from the floor.

  How unprofessional.

  The departing nurse had not given a report or breakdown for expected patient care. No guidance, no direction of any kind for the new girl in town. Boom! Gina Mazzio, RN, would be giving nursing care to fifteen people she knew nothing about; their lives had been entrusted, no, thrust into her hands.

  This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. In fact, nothing like this had ever happened to her before, except during an emergency. She needed some insight—the ins-and-outs of the facility, hard facts about the patients on the Wing A unit. That’s what nurses did for each other, part of what made them professionals.

  And this whole set up feels out of whack.

  She mentally back-stepped and went over the introduction to the facility step by step—Ethan had specifically told her and Harry that although these patients had been part of a Phase III national clinical drug trial, they were the failures. They were only here for medical care.

  What kind of medical care?

  “You better get a move on,” Rocky said, “or we’ll both be in trouble.” He’d come back to the nurses’ station without her seeing or hearing him.

  “What do you mean by trouble?” Gina snapped. She could feel the muscles in her neck bunching up. She didn’t like or trust this goon. Now he was telling her … the charge nurse … how to do her job. That was no small matter. There was a lot at stake here for her. She had a license on the line; she didn’t even want to begin to think about what would happen to her if she lost that.

  “Where are the patient profiles, Rocky?”

  He sneered, yes, sneered at her, putting her flat-out into attack mode. “I don’t see you moving,” she said, looking around the desk; pretending to be lost in a search. She shifted papers, deliberately looked under the desk, shrugged her shoulders. “I still see no charts here.”

  “This is the twenty-first century, lady. They’re in the computer.”

  And there it was, just like when she grew up. Another bully trying to push her buttons, shove her around, stake out a territory at her expense.

  She paced out a long stride, putting her into his personal space. “Let’s get one thing damn straight here, Rocky. When I say jump … you jump! Don’t give me a lot of smartass back talk. Pull those profiles up on the screen … and do it now!”

  She could see he didn’t exactly know how to change gears, but he planted his butt in the chair at the computer and scrolled his way into the nurse’s notes for every in-house patient.

  Gina sat down in a rolling desk chair, waved her hand for him to scoot over so she could move in front of the monitor. She scanned through the entries, and without exception, they all only dealt with a variety of drugs for pain management for each individual. Not only that, all of the patients were due for their first morning dose now.

  “Where are the medicine cards?” She had to slow down, calm down; she heard the panic in her own voice. These patients were pretty much getting narcotics like clockwork, four times a day, and right now they were probably climbing the walls.

  “Go check up on everybody, Rocky. Tell them I’ll have their meds PDQ.” But he didn’t move; he just sat there. “Look, man. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot with each other this morning, but we’ll settle that later. Right now we’ve got to take care of these people.” She waved toward the patient rooms. He held out a packet of medicine cards and she took them. The orders on them would allow her to move at top speed. She held out the other hand for a high five. “Truce?”

  Rocky’s eyes narrowed but he smacked her open palm—a little too hard.

  * * *

  A piercing scream echoed throughout the unit. Harry bolted down the hall; it was coming from the far end of the corridor.

  He checked the posted name outside the room: Rhonda Jenkins.

  He stepped inside and saw the woman hunched over, standing at the barred window crying. She was leaning with all her weight on the sill, trying to hold herself up.

  Harry moved to her side and slipped an arm around her fragile waist. She jerked as though he’d punched her.

  “It’s okay, Ms. Jenkins. I’m one of the new nurses and I’m here to help you.”

  She looked at him with the opaque eyes of a trapped animal. “The pain. I can’t stand it anymore.” She held out a pleading hand; her fingers were disfigured by tight contortions that made Harry wince.

  “Here, Ms. Jenkins, let me get you to a chair, then I’ll be right back with your medicine.” He tried to support her arm but the pressure made her cry out. “Let me bring the chair to you. He stretched out and grabbed onto an armrest and dragged it over.

  She was still sobbing, but she’d calmed down and had stopped screaming. “What’s your name?” she asked. “Are you a nurse?”

  “Yes, I’m a nurse. My name is Harry Lucke. But you can call me Harry.”

  A fleeting glimmer of humor reflected in her eyes. “And you can call me Rhonda.” He placed a hand on her head and gently smoothed her hair. “I’ll be back with your medicine very soon.”

  Harry returned to the nurses’ station to find a display of red lights. Everyone on the unit was buzzing for help. He quickly read Rhonda’s medicine card, then opened the narcotics box

  Demerol 100 milligrams, IM.

  Considering her age and condition, it was a lot of juice to take on a regular basis. He quickly brought up her profile on the computer. It confirmed what he already guessed: Rhonda had an advanced case of osteoporosis. Along with being almost blind, her whole body was not only crumbling, she was in a deep depression, complicated by total exhaustion.

  He drew up the med for Rhonda, rushed down the hall, and found her in her chair, head almost bent to her knees. Intermittent sobs wracked her body. Pete was in the room straightening her bed. He seemed oblivious to either one of them. For the moment, Harry ignored him and gently moved the patient’s underclothes aside and gave her the injection in her hip. She gave a soft whimper.

  Pete and Harry left the room at the same time.

  “I noticed Rhonda was dressed already. Did the night shift dress her?”

  “Yeah.” The orderly moved into the next room while Harry continued down the corridor.

  Once again in the nurses’ station, Harry quickly arranged medicine cups and syringes on a large tray; every medication was an opiate of some kind. The dose level in each and every case was in the stratosphere. He worked quickly and it didn’t take him long to get everything ready.

  He went from room to room at top speed, introducing himself and administering the pain killers.

  Every patient looked at him as though he had in some way betrayed them.

  Chapter 10

  It was 4 pm when Gina buzzed Harry. “It’s quiet enough now … I can get away. How about we coordinate and have our dinner break together?”

  “Wish I could, babe, but I think my evening meal is going to consist of catching up on nurses’ notes.”

  “Rough day?”

  “You don’t know the half of it. See you back at our apartment around 7:30.”

  Gina was disappointed; she�
�d looked forward to seeing Harry before the end of the shift, but his response didn’t surprise her—this was the first time she’d had a free moment the entire day. She’d spent most of her time with agitated patients and a sulky, aggressive Rocky. She wanted to talk to the orderly about their edgy start, but he continued to make her jumpy. Each time she was on the verge of apologizing for not playing nice, she was back to snapping at him for some new insult he’d tossed her way. When he called her a “California short-timer,” that ended any kind of truce between them. She got the message, in a not too subtle way: He was telling her that she would be gone in three months, and so who cared what she thought? Sort of a king-of-the-mountain mentality. It was so childish she didn’t really get mad, but she was still irritated—the guy kept pushing her buttons. Besides, it seemed strange for anyone to call her a Californian. She still thought of herself as a New Yorker.

  When the two of them had delivered all the patient dinner trays, she took the elevator to the third floor and wandered into the cafeteria. She wasn’t terribly hungry, but not eating wasn’t an option—she faded quickly without having food every couple of hours. She usually carried some kind of snack she could pop into her mouth when her energy dipped. Today it had been raisins. But they were long gone.

  The place was empty. The heavy silence made her lonely for the normal hospital cafeteria environment, a place where people from all the different units and specialties had a chance to exchange information and gossip. There was always something going on and it was rare that she ate alone.

  She looked at the vending machine, with its limited assortment of sandwiches. She chose turkey on a roll, then went to the soda machine and bought a diet Coke.

  It was hard to get comfortable in the room’s molded fiberglass chairs. When she took the first bite of the sandwich, she knew it was the last time she would be buying anything from that machine—the bread was dried out and the poultry was more like mystery meat. She drowned the small bite with the Coke and wondered if all her dinner breaks were going to be this bad. At least if Harry had been here they would have found something to laugh at.