Executive Sick Days

by Maria E. Schneider

  "The lunch lifter?"

  She nodded. "I usually bring something that doesn't have to be refrigerated and lock my lunch in my locker. Have you eaten already?"

  I eyed my sister-in-law. Was she hungry and scouting for food? She was pregnant, and she had eaten enough of my cooking to covet the occasional dish. Currently dressed as a round green elf, she looked as though she might be capable of just about any crime. If she put her green nylons over her face, she could rob a bank. "What are you going to do when Christmas is over and you can't dress like that?" I asked.

  A smile burst onto her face. "Oh, do you want to go shopping with me? I've decided to come as Cupid and then as a leprechaun in honor of St. Patrick! And then the Easter Bunny!"

  Far be it for me to tell her I had heard her doctor, Dr. Evans, and Ellen, the volunteer trainer, discussing a baby shower for her. "Whatever."

  "Just keep it a secret," she warned, shaking my arm.

  "Okay, okay." I walked back downstairs with her and dashed out for a sandwich rather than attempt two lunch breaks.

  Because of the rally, there were still some lunch trays to be distributed to patients when I arrived back upstairs, but I didn't mind. Even the craziest patient, Mr. Silva, enjoyed lunch. He didn't need help eating it either, because he was in good shape physically. He just had a little trouble with reality.

  Today he was a member of Congress. He'd be with us until his medication was properly readjusted, but like a lot of people with...imaginative outlooks on life, he wasn't very reliable at taking his medication. His records indicated he was in and out like clockwork.

  "Here's lunch, Mr. Silva. How are you today?" I placed the tray on one of the little wheeled stands, slid the open side across the top of the bed and lowered it to the proper height so he could eat.

  "Just fine," he responded heartily. "I'm working through lunch. Lots of legislation to consider."

  "Can you lower my taxes? Would you like to get up and go to the window?"

  "Got to work. Don't have time for lunch!"

  No window today. The patient who shared the room with Mr. Silva grumbled, "Crazy old man." The two of them had been talking yesterday at lunch, but the other patient must have finally figured out that Mr. Silva was inventing various careers. For a while they had been having a pleasant time swapping war stories. Too bad Mr. Silva's weren't real.

  The dreaded Mrs. Olsen was scheduled for x-rays at two, so after lunch was over, I packed her into a wheelchair and rolled her to the elevator. The x-ray department was on the first floor near the ER. The whirlpool that Mrs. Olsen so dearly loved was also on the first floor. Apparently that was where she thought she was headed, because she got very irritated when I rolled her into the x-ray room.

  "Today is my whirlpool day! I'm not getting x-rays, you stupid bimbo. I want my whirlpool!"

  Mrs. Olsen had a tendency to call people names. This was the hardest part of my job because under no circumstances would I tolerate such abuse in any other job. At least in the computer world, I'd get to call names right back. "Sorry Mrs. O. You'll have to reschedule your whirlpool. It was on Thursday last time you were in the hospital, but the doctor has to put in a new request for this stay." Mrs. O relied on her Cadillac insurance plan, which apparently didn't balk at paying for the whirlpool regardless of her malady.

  The x-ray technician didn't look thrilled to see us; she must have already met Mrs. O. "Hi," I said, trying my best to sound cheerful. "I'm Sedona O'Hala, a volunteer. Do I wait here, or should I come back?"

  "It shouldn't take long. I'm Holly Long. Can you help me get her on the table?" Holly was a tiny little thing and Mrs. O was not. In addition, Holly looked as though she had already dealt with about ten Mrs. O's today. Long blond hair framed a delicate face that was decorated with a smattering of freckles. Her light complexion made the dark circles of fatigue under her hazel eyes rather prominent.

  "No problem." It was either volunteer down here or go back upstairs and do whatever needed doing up there.

  I should have clarified that there were no problems for me. Mrs. O, of course, had more than a few complaints as we gingerly moved her to the x-ray table and positioned her properly. Granted, the table was cold, but she wasn't likely to get better service by whining about it. Her calling Holly an "incompetent imbecile" was completely out of line, but Holly politely ignored her.

  "Why don't you save those pleasantries for someone really incompetent?" I suggested.

  That turned Mrs. O's attention to me, but at least the distraction allowed Holly to load the x-ray cassettes in peace. Unfortunately, Mrs. O wasn't holding still.

  "This is going to take longer if you don't hold your breath like Holly is asking," I chided.

  "I need the hot tub. I want to see my doctor! This is torture!"

  "The doctor ordered these x-rays, ma'am," Holly pointed out. "I need you to turn on your side."

  We finally got through the x-rays, but then Holly pleaded, "Can you wait with her? She was moving a lot and some of these might not turn out."

  "You're going to develop them now?" Apparently Holly was a one-woman show, loading, taking and developing.

  "Yup." She pointed to the little door where she had put the cassettes. "The dark room is behind that wall. I'll have these ready in a few minutes. It doesn't take long."

  Mrs. O wasn't so accommodating. "I want off this table! Instantly!"

  I would have much rather gone into the darkroom and learned how to develop x-rays than sit with Mrs. O. "There, there, you old...dear. Lemme get your blanket." I tried to sound like Brenda rather than myself, but my patience was tested when Mrs. O compared me to a sheep, a cow and a mangy dog.

  Holly finally came back out holding one of the x-rays high. "We'd better do this image again." She showed me the chest x-ray. It was blurry on the edges. "I really appreciate you waiting. Sometimes the nurses or techs can't wait and then depending on the patient, I can't develop them because the patient requires supervision. I end up taking the patient upstairs, coming back to develop and if the shots don't turn out, I have to go get the patient and do it all over again."

  "Here or there, doesn't matter to me," I said.

  We took the shot, and this time Mrs. O must have been tired of the table because she held still.

  "This will probably be good," Holly said.

  "I'll wait."

  "No, you won't! I want out!" Mrs. O tried to get off the table. The surface was not only cold it was slippery, and Mrs. O was in danger of sliding herself right off the table and onto the hard floor. Still, I wasn't about to let the old hag get away with her bad behavior because it would be me dragging her back down if more were needed.

  "You just settle down," I snapped. I had to practically lie on top of her to hold her still. "If you don't, I'm going to tell the doctor that it's too dangerous to transport you around the hospital, and I'll request he cancel your whirlpool."

  That earned me the glare from hell, but she stopped wiggling in order to more effectively yell at me. "You snippety little bitch! I don't have to put up with this. This is malpractice! I'll sue!"

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah," I muttered, wishing Holly would hurry up. "You're in for pneumonia, aren't you?"

  Only Mrs. O seemed worried it was pneumonia, hence the x-rays. Apparently her doctor didn't want to take any chances. The woman had probably threatened to sue him just as she was threatening me now.

  Holly hurried back out and nodded.

  We practically threw Mrs. O in the wheelchair. "Thanks for the help," Holly whispered. "Anytime you want to volunteer down here, come on down. I can always use a hand."

  "Really?" The work seemed marginally more interesting that what I did upstairs. Maybe she would teach me to develop the x-rays.

  "Absolutely."

  "Sounds good to me. I'll stop back down in a bit!"

  Her eyes lit up. "That would be really, really great."

  Mrs. Olsen bellyached all the way upstairs. "I want the whirlpool! It's damn cold in this h
ospital."

  The physical therapist could probably hear her and might resign before Mrs. O could get permission to go to whirlpool. Geez, no wonder Brenda remembered when Mrs. O was in.

  I got the old lady back to her room and suggested a walk so that she could warm up. I only did it to be irritating. I knew Mrs. O wouldn't actually walk.

  The afternoon was wearing down to my normal end of shift, but since I had promised Holly I'd stop back down, I told Crissa, the technician, that I was going to go help out in x-ray in case anyone was looking for me.

  "Okay," she said. "But Sally will not be pleased if she finds out." She swished her shoulder-length blond hair and wagged her finger in an imitation of Sally.

  "Well, then just tell Attila I took a patient down there for x-rays."

  "Attila?"

  "Sally," I corrected.

  Crissa grinned. "If she finds out you're moonlighting, she'll start paging you every five minutes."

  "Thanks for the warning." Rescheduling officially was probably a good idea, but I was supposed to be up here spying so I didn't want to make a habit of farming myself out. "It's almost quitting time anyway."

  Things hadn't slowed down any by the time I got back downstairs. Holly was working with a patient and had one in the wings. About all I could do was take patients back upstairs when they were done. She didn't have time to train me in anything else.

  After delivering a few patients back and forth, Holly said, "The work down here can be a lot more fun, honest! If you come again I can teach you to develop the x-rays and then you'll be more than just a taxi service."

  On what I hoped was my last run, I asked, "Can I take the x-rays next time?"

  She laughed. "I could let you push the button after I set the machine up." She pointed to a chart on the wall. "There's a science to the positioning and the exposure. But if you volunteered down here permanently you could learn a lot."

  Regrettably, I couldn't avail myself of her offer. I had a real job to do. "I'll stop by when I can," I promised.

  It was really too bad the criminals didn't work in areas that would be more interesting for me. How inconsiderate of them.

  I went back upstairs and delivered the last patient to her room. Before I could grab my coat and leave, Brenda waved me over. "I didn't know you were still here. Come with Dr. Burns and me on rounds. It'll be fun."

  I doubted it, but how could I turn her down? She was a pathetic pregnant woman, for crying out loud. At least the doctor wasn't Staple. Dr. Burns was about as far from Staple as a person could get. Instead of a blondish, handsome vampire-type, he was short, plump and quite ordinary looking. Although he wore the ubiquitous white lab coat like other doctors, his looked as though he had wadded it up and sat on it in the car for a few days.

  As we were introduced, he studied me carefully, possibly scanning for diseases. He let go of the stethoscope around his neck long enough to shake my hand, but then, as suddenly as I was his focus, he shifted. He turned and marched into the first patient's room.

  Brenda and I followed. If an actual exam were to be done, I wouldn't stay, but for normal rounds, unless something came up, I was allowed to "learn and assist."

  Mrs. Swartz was a dainty little lady and since she was allowed to have all the food she wanted, her son brought in snacks all the time. She had a tray over her lap with a couple of leftover finger sandwiches, carrots, and cherry tomatoes. I quickly wheeled the little stand out of the way so that the doctor could talk to her.

  "How are you feeling today?" Dr. Burns asked. He was completely focused on her chart, but as I moved the tray, he reached out and plucked off the remainder of a sandwich.

  I stared in astonishment as he began eating it. He never lost a beat; his questions and review of her blood pressure and other stats went off like clockwork. When he finished eating the piece of sandwich, he dusted his fingers off on his white jacket. He patted Mrs. Swartz gently, said some encouraging words, and we proceeded to the next room.

  I followed in consternation. Eating food from a patient tray could not be normal. Besides being rude, it couldn't possibly follow any good hygiene rules.

  I looked at Brenda, but she just smiled serenely and lifted her eyebrows once. There was no way I could tell if she was trying to tell me that Dr. Burns was a likely candidate for stealing my lunch…or even adding charges to patient bills. Did stealing a leftover sandwich from a patient goodie bag constitute a pattern? Had she invited me on the rounds to see the evidence of deviant behavior? Given that she was dressed as a giant green elf, would she even recognize deviant behavior???

  I was obviously tired and losing my mind. Instead of leaving at three as planned, it was almost five o'clock. As a volunteer, my hours should be nice and easy. Only one of the other volunteers scheduled as many hours as I did. If I was going to have any time for other investigative activities, like cornering Huntington for information, my schedule needed to be rearranged.

  With that in mind, when I saw Attila at the nurses' station, I mentioned that I wanted to change my hours. "I've had a change in my personal schedule, and I need Wednesdays off." It occurred to me that I could ask for a couple of days, but it was better if I didn’t get carried away. The case was at the hospital. There was only so much outside footwork necessary.

  Of course, as soon as I told Attila, she frowned. With precise, staccato movements, she sat down at the computer and pulled up the schedule. "How about we replace Wednesdays with some afternoons? You're only scheduled for days right now, and we need late afternoon shifts as well as mornings."

  "Well, actually," I kept my voice at its sweetest, which for me was a cross between strained and a high-pitched yell, "I'm already leaving well after three. I don't want to tie up my afternoons permanently."

  "Hmm. How about a weekend day? We're always short on weekends."

  My eyes crossed. "No thanks. I date a lot so I'm rarely free on Saturdays." A complete lie, but I thought it was a good one.

  She glared at me. "Wednesdays," she muttered in her best harpy voice. "You're going to leave us short."

  She was being greedy. I was a volunteer for crying out loud. Rather than point this out, I shrugged it off. With an extra day off in the middle of the week, this job now easily beat all the others that I had ever worked.

  Chapter 7

  Work at the hospital wasn't hard, although changing bedpans really was as bad as you might imagine. I tried to be helpful, though my main purpose was to hang around and spy on people. Since there were doctor rounds both in the morning and afternoon, it was easy to “watch and learn” at least once in the morning and then again later in the day. I verified pretty quickly how charges were logged and who did the logging.

  Crissa, the technician I had already met, was a font of information via her complaints about lazy nurses. "What does Paul think, one of us is going to follow him around, get the stickers out of the trashcan and enter them for him?" Her blond hair was fluffed model-perfect with a wash-and-wear look that probably took hours with a blow dryer. For someone who was just over five feet tall and sported little-girl freckles, her bright green eyes threw some pretty mean sparks.

  "Do you have to enter his numbers if he throws the bar codes away?" I asked. The technicians were assistants to the nurses, but that seemed over the line.

  "Not in this lifetime! He might like us to, but he isn't stupid enough to suggest it. He's just lazy. I caught him napping--napping," she spit out, "in one of the patient beds one time. Do you know that he then commented that the sheets should probably be changed before we checked anyone in?"

  After "assisting" him twice, it became obvious that Crissa wasn't exaggerating. Paul quite often unwrapped gauze or band-aids and threw the outer covering away without looking at the sticker, much less logging it. He certainly wasn't adding extra charges to the hospital bills, unless he went in at the end of the day and willy-nilly added charges to make up for his laziness.

  Unfortunately, the most likely culprits were the doctors, bu
t I couldn't tell bona fide orders from bogus ones. The only person who might detect such was another doctor. Luckily, I had one in mind who might be of help: Dr. Evans, Brenda's obstetrician. She just happened to work closely with four of the other doctors, sharing a building with them in the fancy physicians’ office across the street. She would be a great inside source.

  When she came on the floor to check on a couple of hysterectomies, I approached her. "Hi, Dr. Evans." I couldn't decide between asking her to lunch or making myself an appointment. An appointment would be more private, but what if she insisted on an exam? I kept up on my exams and even had birth control pills, but once in her office, I'd be at her mercy.

  "Sedona! Brenda mentioned she recruited you. How do you like volunteering so far?" She was an elegant lady, taller than me by a few inches. Her numerous tiny cornrow braids were piled up on her head giving her even more height and elegance.

  "So far so good."

  "What made you decide to look into health care?" she asked.

  "Uh, well. Computers are so…nonhuman." And part of the reason I had chosen them as my real career. I continued the lie, hoping to guide her toward which doctors or procedures might generate the most cash. "I'm looking into different specialties, trying to decide which areas fit my personality, but still allow me to make a decent living."

  "Good to start right in the thick of things," she approved before opening one of the drawers at the nurses' station desk. "Have you seen the stack of doctors' business cards? I need to refer one of my patients to Dr. Burns. I know we all have cards in here somewhere."

  "Dr. Burns?" If she did referrals for someone like Dr. Burns, maybe consulting with her wasn't such a good idea. The man had eaten food right off of a patient's tray, and he was my number one suspect for the lunch thief. Sure, it wasn't proof of overcharging, but he was still weird.

  Dr. Evans turned and grinned at me, completely unconcerned. "Yes, if you're in need of a good internist, Dr. Burns is the one. He's the best."