Alice had never had a three-screamer night before. Every shift had at least one person yelling at the top of his lungs. Hospital patients were sick; they hurt and were scared of dying. So, she understood that some people just had to scream – a lot.
She had worked as a nurse for about five years now. She preferred the night shift because she earned a higher salary, and there was less traffic on the way to work. Fewer narcissistic doctors were racing from room to room, barking out orders and changing treatment plans on a daily basis with her to clean up the mess. And most patients drifted in and out of uneasy sleep until their tubes got clogged or some tech woke them up to change the batteries on their heart monitors.
Tonight, her shift started at 8 pm. Not only was there a full moon, but it was Halloween. Her dad had been a cop and was convinced that crime increased during the full moon, but she was skeptical. She had read the studies; she knew bipolar patients were more manic during a full moon and that people got 30% less deep sleep. But she disagreed with other hospital staff about the lunar effect and its supposed lunatics.
She walked into the ward, and immediately the woman in room #782 started screaming. Mrs. Howell was admitted from a nursing home because she kept having nosebleeds. Her blood pressure was through the roof, and when her nose started to leak, it was a bloody mess. And every 30 minutes, she would holler, "Nurse, Nurse, Nurse!" When Alice entered the room most of the time, nothing was wrong. She would check Mrs. Howell's vitals and look at her monitor! All she could think was that Mrs. Howell had way too much carbonation in her creme soda.
She finished with Mrs. Howell and was looking forward to a cup of coffee when she heard a noise from the other end of the ward. Mr. Paul was yelling and trying to get out of bed, even though his foot had recently been amputated due to diabetes. He succeeded in landing on the floor and began hopping around the room on one foot, dragging the pole with all its tubes. Alice yelled for help, and they both grabbed Mr. Paul and wrestled him to the ground. Eventually, they got him back into bed and put enough codeine in his IV to knock him out for the rest of the night.
About this time, Mrs. Howell started up again. "Nurse, Nurse, Nurse!" she yelled. Alice headed toward her room but heard a low moaning emanating from room #790. It slowly increased in volume and pitch until it sounded like the air raid sirens her grandpa used to talk about. In the room, Ms. LaCroix, the Alzheimer's patient de jour, stood on her bed, flapping her arms and wailing. Alice couldn't imagine having dementia and waking up in a strange room with tubes down her throat, machines beeping and flashing, and strangers coming into her room all night. Alice helped all 98 pounds of Ms. LaCroix back into her bed and held her hand until she fell asleep.
Alice then returned to Mrs. Howell's room to clean up the mess from her latest nosebleed. When she finally made it to the nurse's station, she felt she'd been run over by three or four trucks. Sitting on a chair before the window, Alice studied the full moon. It was so bright; she had to shade her eyes, and she realized she had only been at work for an hour.
Sitting there exhausted, she suddenly remembered her father and his magical beliefs. She thinks of her psychology professors and the research she's read. She thinks of Mrs. Howell, Mr. Paul, and Ms. LaCroix. She thinks of the glass of Merlot she's going to have as soon as she gets home. She thinks of the junior witches on the ground and that maybe, just maybe, she will pay more attention to the warning signs in the future.
— opelikakat
She had worked as a nurse for about five years now. She preferred the night shift because she earned a higher salary, and there was less traffic on the way to work. Fewer narcissistic doctors were racing from room to room, barking out orders and changing treatment plans on a daily basis with her to clean up the mess. And most patients drifted in and out of uneasy sleep until their tubes got clogged or some tech woke them up to change the batteries on their heart monitors.
Tonight, her shift started at 8 pm. Not only was there a full moon, but it was Halloween. Her dad had been a cop and was convinced that crime increased during the full moon, but she was skeptical. She had read the studies; she knew bipolar patients were more manic during a full moon and that people got 30% less deep sleep. But she disagreed with other hospital staff about the lunar effect and its supposed lunatics.
She walked into the ward, and immediately the woman in room #782 started screaming. Mrs. Howell was admitted from a nursing home because she kept having nosebleeds. Her blood pressure was through the roof, and when her nose started to leak, it was a bloody mess. And every 30 minutes, she would holler, "Nurse, Nurse, Nurse!" When Alice entered the room most of the time, nothing was wrong. She would check Mrs. Howell's vitals and look at her monitor! All she could think was that Mrs. Howell had way too much carbonation in her creme soda.
She finished with Mrs. Howell and was looking forward to a cup of coffee when she heard a noise from the other end of the ward. Mr. Paul was yelling and trying to get out of bed, even though his foot had recently been amputated due to diabetes. He succeeded in landing on the floor and began hopping around the room on one foot, dragging the pole with all its tubes. Alice yelled for help, and they both grabbed Mr. Paul and wrestled him to the ground. Eventually, they got him back into bed and put enough codeine in his IV to knock him out for the rest of the night.
About this time, Mrs. Howell started up again. "Nurse, Nurse, Nurse!" she yelled. Alice headed toward her room but heard a low moaning emanating from room #790. It slowly increased in volume and pitch until it sounded like the air raid sirens her grandpa used to talk about. In the room, Ms. LaCroix, the Alzheimer's patient de jour, stood on her bed, flapping her arms and wailing. Alice couldn't imagine having dementia and waking up in a strange room with tubes down her throat, machines beeping and flashing, and strangers coming into her room all night. Alice helped all 98 pounds of Ms. LaCroix back into her bed and held her hand until she fell asleep.
Alice then returned to Mrs. Howell's room to clean up the mess from her latest nosebleed. When she finally made it to the nurse's station, she felt she'd been run over by three or four trucks. Sitting on a chair before the window, Alice studied the full moon. It was so bright; she had to shade her eyes, and she realized she had only been at work for an hour.
Sitting there exhausted, she suddenly remembered her father and his magical beliefs. She thinks of her psychology professors and the research she's read. She thinks of Mrs. Howell, Mr. Paul, and Ms. LaCroix. She thinks of the glass of Merlot she's going to have as soon as she gets home. She thinks of the junior witches on the ground and that maybe, just maybe, she will pay more attention to the warning signs in the future.
— opelikakat
Glad she got a brief respite! There will be more screams, don't we know it? It's a Halloween full moon, for heaven's sake! Very real and well-described goings-on! ---Macoff
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