by Barbara Ebel
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Bonnie Barker was in some kind of a dream. Or was it? A euphoric feeling swam around inside her head and her body felt heavy as a load of concrete. She hated whatever was going on with her throat, as if it was jammed up with something.
Her eyelids were possibly slammed shut with industrial tape, she thought, because she couldn’t budge them open. She was damn tired, but why? The last thing she remembered was being in her labor and delivery room, the bed semi-inclined, as she became overwhelmingly tired. Now, however, she lay flat and the mattress seemed different.
Since she came into this hospital, dreadful events had befallen her. In her prenatal clinic visits and in her overall understanding of childbirth, never did she learn about excessive post-delivery bleeding or what had happened to her. Certainly a woman could bleed a bit during delivery, but nothing like what had transpired after her delivery. And then the doctors-in-training inserted their whole hand inside her and on top of her and massaged like that was going to stop the flow. How barbaric!
On top of that, there was something they were keeping from her about her baby. They were “testing” Samantha, but they still didn’t divulge a word. They must have information by now. They were hiding something, and why were they so jittery when she held her own baby and breast fed her? It was as if the nurse from the nursery was afraid she would break her own newborn!
Over the course of a few more minutes, Bonnie seemed a little more lucid. She heard a droning noise like a machine, cyclical in nature, and became more aware of her chest rising and falling. Then, for sure, fingers slipped into the palm of her hand. Human touch; warm and comforting. Then she heard a female voice. That medical student, Annabel Tilson.
“I popped in to check if she’s stirred yet,” Annabel said to Tony, who sat at Bonnie’s bedside. “Feel free to talk to her. We’ll let her sleep overnight, but I assure you, she’s not deeply sleeping like she was before.”
Tony nodded and Annabel left.
So Tony was next to her, Bonnie thought, as she felt his fingers rub hers. Why did he continue to be around so much? After she found out about her pregnancy, she saw him the least. Over time, however, as the girth of her abdomen grew, he came across as being more interested and spent more time with her.
She had dated Tony for half a year before her pregnancy. Nothing special, yet nothing too boring either. When she found herself accidentally pregnant, abortion was not even a consideration. She wanted kids eventually anyway. Why not just go ahead with it? She was independent, very bright, and ran a daycare center since her high school graduation. She handled the business aspect of it but, in essence, she would be able to mind her own child while she worked. It made for a decent plan.
Now that she thought about Tony, she wondered. When he stopped coming around so much in her first trimester, wasn’t it her who had pushed him away? He coached kids for a living and he never once gave her grief because she had erred with her birth control. One day, he even said, “Hey, Bonnie, isn’t it about time we got married?”
To which she had spoken hastily, but believed what she said. “That’s what people used to do in the old days because they had to … save face in public and get married because the woman was pregnant. Being pregnant and unmarried doesn’t matter anymore. We don’t need to become a married couple.”
Tony appeared unhappy about her remark and yet he never brought it up again. That was his style, however, to accept another person’s wants and desires. He never asked again or persisted about things that mattered to him.
Tony inhaled and noisily exhaled over many seconds. “I sure hate to see you this way,” he said softly, leaning over their hands. “They goofed up your pain medicine and that is the reason they transferred you here and why the machine is helping you to breathe. You had your own troubles before, but now it’s their fault. I won’t leave you. When you are awake, you can always tell me to buzz off.” He chuckled and said, “Which is what you pretty much did months ago.”
He rested his left elbow on the sheet. Bonnie listened to every word and hoped he would continue to keep her company. Plus, she wanted to hear more.
“They told me bad news today, though. Our daughter has a genetic disease that makes her bones brittle. It comes with other problems too. If our relationship stays the same, it will be that much harder for us and Samantha. She deserves the both of us together. You may not love me, but I’m sure smitten with you. Ever since I met you the night you were wearing the powdered sugar from the beignet you were eating. That date was a setup, remember? The four of us met for dinner at that New Orleans style restaurant and we both realized we loved the same music and the same courses like geography and art and we both hated Mexican food and over-sized cars.”
The words sank in as Bonnie listened. Hearing about her daughter’s illness saddened her very core; she had been correct to worry. And yet this man in his twenties showed remarkable maturity. She had also read him wrong. Terribly wrong. In her whole lifetime, she might not ever meet a man as steadfast, sincere, dedicated, and responsible as him. And what had she done? Assumed he only went through the “motions” of a distraught unmarried father and that he had pretended to want more in a relationship with her and their baby.
Now her heart warmed. He cared. He really cared about her and baby Sam. Samantha … an ill little girl that he could easily have little to do with if he wanted, especially since she had pushed him aside.
She couldn’t wait to wake up, pull him close to her, and tell him they were overdue to get married. After all, she wanted to tell him that she needed a buddy to eat beignets with and that he would be the best dad in the world to Samantha.
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Annabel and Caleb entered the lounge hoping the team would soon discuss their patients and that the night call team would soon take over. They both secretly wished to put the last ten hours on the obstetric ward behind them.
Dr. Harvey was still there wearing a scowl on his face. Annabel realized he missed all his afternoon office hours. That would leave him a group of unhappy patients and a rescheduling nightmare. Being an attending affiliated with a teaching hospital as well as managing private patients, she thought, must take courage and dedication. Playing double jeopardy may have occasional rewards but, on the whole, must be fraught with stress. That would be an enlightening research project, she thought; comparing the number of heart attacks of university attendings with private practice doctors. She bet some group would dump a lot of money into that one.
“Dr. Tilson!”
Annabel startled as Dr. Harvey thumped his fist on the table, prompting her to sit before him. Caleb circled wide, headed to the couch where Ling sat cross-legged.
Annabel sensed jitters in her stomach. Dr. Harvey was not his usual self that patients loved. Actually, all afternoon, he was going downhill. Why did he seem angry at her? She had been in the unit with Dr. Gash. Earlier, she had even been instrumental in getting Bonnie Barker the help which she needed. She also completed a work-up on her new patient, Amy Wagner, a flawless, healthy obstetric patient for an induction, who posed no problems since her admission. Roosevelt splayed his hand on the tabletop as if to keep from thumping it again.
She clutched her hands on her lap and waited.
“The main principle of a doctor’s Hippocratic Oath is to ‘do no harm.’ Ms. Barker almost died of a morphine overdose when she should have received a simple 200 mg tablet of Motrin. I understand you read Dr. Watson’s pain order as a long-lasting narcotic and instructed the nurse, Melba Fox, to give it.”
The accusation struck her in the gut and her stomach rumbled from fear. “No, sir. I actually questioned her interpretation when she said Dr. Watson’s handwriting looked like morphine. I told her that 200 mgs seemed too high for it to be morphine. But she said I didn’t know any better. If I may paraphrase, she said something like many patients on the obstetric floor have a history of taking drugs and it was not an uncommon prescription for those who have developed a tolerance.”
>
“Let me get this straight. We have here an RN’s word against a medical student. One versus the other. What kind of a rotation am I staffing here? One where I must act like a detective and dole out polygraph tests?!”
He rose suddenly. “You take off for the day. It’s that time anyway. We can see our patients without you before handing them over to the night team. Be back in the morning and reconsider the accusation you’ve made.”
Annabel stood. In all her rotations, she’d never been so humiliated. Her word was never doubted like this before. She caught a sly upturn of Ling’s mouth while she grabbed her things. She stepped out of the room. Her stomach churned, but worse than that, she wanted to call it quits.
CHAPTER 16
Annabel’s heart pounded from a mixture of emotions: anger, unsureness, and sadness. Anger at wrongly implicating her in Bonnie Barker’s overdose, uncertainty whether this incident would negatively impact her grade or further status on the rotation, and sadness for both her young patients who encountered obstetric complications and for herself because her luck ran out to be working with such a dysfunctional team.
And although she was a student, teaching was minimal. The four years of medical school was called “medical education.” So where was the medical education except for what she was learning by reading and observing?
She pushed through the revolving doors at the hospital’s front entrance and stood on the pavement half disoriented. She had to think about it … had she driven in that morning in her own car or with an Uber driver? Since Bob wanted to scout out the dog shelter, she remembered her thought process. She had driven in her own red Nissan SUV because that would be less complicated. Knowing she could barely think straight, she was so upset, she shook her head back and forth.
At her car, she threw her things on the back floor, started the ignition, and held the steering wheel with an isotonic death grip. More than anything, she hated this rotation. She couldn’t wait for it to be finished. However, it had only started.
She put the car in drive and took off. What a bad day to go scout out dogs, she thought. Maybe she should cancel with Bob. She toyed with the idea but, earlier, he had done their shopping and gone without her to look at them. What would she think of the one that “stole” his heart? If the previous hours were any indication, she would probably not see eye to eye with Bob either.
After heading east, she arrived at his apartment complex, realizing that she should have texted him that she was on the way. But she still seethed over the day and, if she had a choice, she would go straight home, curl under her covers, and sob into her pillow. She walked past the empty pool not filled for the springtime. She glanced at the horizon. The days were getting longer and the sunset was not complete. She went to his first-floor unit and knocked.
“Hey,” Bob said, opening the door. He wore a smile, sweat pants, and a long-sleeve medical school sweat shirt. “I will owe the lady at the front desk my first born if we don’t get over to the shelter. She is staying over for us.”
Annabel frowned.
“Uh-oh, you don’t appear too chipper.”
“You’re putting it mildly.”
“You can tell me about it. Let’s take my car.” He stepped back inside and grabbed his keys and wallet and handed Annabel the leash and collar, and led the way to his Honda.
“You should be resting. Our timing is terrible.”
“Then there will never be the right time. Sometimes you must cross the Rubicon and do what you made excuses to put off.”
Annabel sighed. There was truth to that. She examined the items in her hand; not the standard fare for a dog collar or a leash. She liked them, but her enthusiasm was still dampened. As Bob commented about the weather and the shelter, she half listened. Finally, they drove in silence.
After repeating his drive down the long country-like lane, Bob pulled his Fit into the parking lot next to the only vehicle around, no doubt, belonging to the thoughtful employee waiting on them.
Annabel dangled the items as she followed him in. She still didn’t know any more about the dog he was interested in other than from his text message. “Do you mind if I look at all of them before we commit?”
“Sure thing. Start from scratch like I did.”
The female employee stepped out from behind the desk. “I wondered if you would show up again. Don’t take too long, okay?”
Bob nodded. “This is Annabel. We hope to make a decision, but don’t get mad at us if we happen to go home empty handed.”
“I’ll try. The bottom line around here is to find good homes for these dogs and cats. They are better off here than if they end up with owners who want them as a decoration and will not take care of them as they should.”
Annabel went through the door first. Bob stepped in behind her but stayed put at the front of the room. He followed her with his eyes, watching her demeanor and body language as she began down the right aisle. A bustle of activity ensued from the pens. Dogs barked, toenails pranced on the floor, and some tails wagged.
Almost to the end, she paused before a black and white terrier mix. “You look as troubled as I feel,” she said. The dog’s roommate came over and the first dog jumped up and they frolicked. “At least there’s a buddy with you that you can play with.” She moved on to the other side.
Annabel locked eyes with a dog several kennels down before she passed the one beside her. His long, bushy tail swooshed back and forth as he stared at her. Fully alert, he drew her to him. She gave in and walked past the others.
“Oh my. You are a beauty.” She tilted over to check the dog’s sex. “A handsome fella.” She frowned. “There’s not much for you to be happy about between those four walls, yet you’re smiling like I am passing you a steak. Where’d you inherit such a magnificent coat from?”
Annabel lowered her body, balancing herself on her toes. He came closer and sniffed her hand and his tail sped up. Their eyes continued to survey each other. “You’re not a slobbery kisser and yet you are clearly pleased with me.”
The dog sat. His tall, lanky frame had long hair and his chest was mostly white. The back of each leg was furry, enough to brush, and his colors were a remarkable mix of light reds, white, and tans. How could she turn him down and not adopt him?
She thought about Bob. She was so fixated on the dog before her, that she must take him … even if he was not the one Bob wanted. She stood and looked in Bob’s direction. He covered his face with his hand. When he took it down, he choked back emotion and nodded.
When Bob stepped over, the dog stayed in a sit, watching them intently as if not wanting to be rude and interrupt them.
“He’s so polite, isn’t he?” Annabel commented.
“Like The Dog Whisperer trained him himself.”
“No. He has been waiting for us.”
“We have the same taste in dogs.”
“His name is Oliver, you know.”
“It is now.”
“It says here he’s a retriever mix. Nine months old and neutered.”
Bob nodded. “Well?”
Annabel sighed and allowed a smile.
“Is that your first smile of the day?”
She lowered her head. “Unfortunately.”
“Come on.” Bob opened the door to see the woman waiting expectantly. “We’ll take him. The one I was looking at earlier.”
“I’ve got the adoption papers right here,” she said.
Bob and Annabel both signed and he took out the fee of fifty dollars.
“How sure are you that he’s a retriever mix?” Annabel asked.
“We’re guessing. What I suggest is that you send off his DNA for a breed analysis. The information is useful for training and taking care of him properly. For instance, does he like to retrieve, or swim, or herd, or be a couch potato?”
Annabel and Bob looked at each other.
“We can split his fee, his DNA analysis, and vet visit,” Annabel said.
“No problem.”
The three of them went into the back room and the woman opened the bars to their new dog’s kennel. The woman spotted their collar and took the old one off. Annabel placed the red leather with attached bells on his neck and cinched it in place. The dog looked from one to the other and then Bob hooked him to the leash.
“Your new name is Oliver,” Annabel said. “This is Bob and I am Annabel. Welcome to your new family.”
“Bye, Oliver,” the young lady said when they made it to the front entrance.
“Thank you for extending your day for us,” Bob said.
“For this result, I’m glad I did.”
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“Let’s see how he behaves on a leash,” Bob said outside. He walked along the edge of the grass and Oliver never pulled; the new odors beneath him smelled a thousand times better than the stale concrete he was sprung from. After he lifted his leg and peed several times, Bob opened his hatchback and waved his hand. “Jump up.”
Oliver jumped in and after they were underway, he stood in the very back with his front paws on the back seat and scanned the front of the car. Occasionally, he rested his head on the upholstery.
“I hope your night is uneventful with him,” Annabel said.
“On the contrary. Our first night will be memorable no matter what. I assume he’ll be with me since you’re the one heading out at the crack of dawn.”
“I’m worried sick about going back in tomorrow.”
He glanced over. She twisted her hands in her lap and looked out the window like she didn’t want to talk. Before leaving the less-traveled road, Oliver barked several times, perched towards the right back window. “It’s just a squirrel,” Annabel told him. “But at least now we know what you sound like.”
By the time they arrived back at Bob’s apartment, the outdoor lights had snapped on because of the fading light. He opened the back of the car. “I’d better teach him not to dart out when I put the hatchback up. For right now, I’m going to snap this leash on quickly.”
