Chapter 8

I didn’t see Dr. Keller for the next few days, exactly four, beginning right after the incident where he pushed me out of the construction site.

I worked two more shifts during that time, and he didn’t come in at all. No one knew why. All his surgical appointments were abruptly cancelled, which had never happened before. Then I had two days off. Apparently, he came back yesterday, and from what I heard, he was in a terrible mood.

Today’s my first day managing patients on my own. I hope I don’t cross paths with him.

I’m not worried about handling patients on my own. Kim’s there if I need support, and Jake’s wonderful to work with. He always steps in when help’s needed. Still, if Dr. Keller decides to ruin my day, I don’t know how I’ll handle it.

Mrs. Jane’s assigned to me today.

I’ve had more interaction with her the past few days, which we both enjoy. She’s genuinely one of the best patients anyone could ask for. Still, I don’t want her assignment. She’s Dr. Keller’s patient, and I don’t want any of his patients.

When Kim assigns her to me, I hesitate.

“I don’t think I should take Mrs. Jane,” I say quietly. “Dr. Keller won’t be happy. He told you not to give his patients to me.”

Kim sighs. “Don’t worry about him. If we start doing that now, there’ll be no end. It’s not practical. His patients are everywhere. Beds are assigned as they become available. We can’t separate his patients or assign them only to nurses he prefers. That’s not how things work.”

I still hesitate, standing there with my hands fidgeting, my face giving away my dilemma.

“Don’t worry about him,” she adds gently. “He’s on edge these days. Something’s going on with him. I don’t know what. This isn’t the Daniel I know.” She looks away, then back at me. “Mrs. Jane’s being discharged today anyway. I’ll handle that part, so don’t worry.”

As I turn to leave, Kim calls my name.

“Amelia.”

I turn back.

“Mrs. Jane really likes you,” she says. “It hurt her when you refused the chocolates. Just take them. It’s not a big deal. She plans to give sweets to everyone, but she wants something special for you.”

“This isn’t a small box or a single candy,” I say. “It’s a very expensive package of chocolates. I can’t take it.”

“I know,” Kim replies. “She showed it to me. It’s expensive, but she feels bad that she didn’t step in when Dr. Keller yelled at you. For her peace of mind, take it. If you don’t want to keep it, put it in the staff room. Everyone’ll share.”

“All right,” I say, halfheartedly.

Later that morning, while I’m giving medications, I tell Mrs. Jane, “I’ll take the chocolates when I go.”

“That’s my good girl,” she says, smiling as she squeezes my arm. “They’re in the drawer.”

She tells me about her plans to visit her new grandchild, whom she missed meeting because she was in the hospital when the baby was born. She’s excited about being discharged.

When I finish giving her medications, she hands me a business card. “If you ever have trouble here, come and see me,” she says. “I’ll make sure you find a better job than this.”

“Thank you,” I reply.

“I know you’re particular about rules and regulations,” she continues, “and you may not like relationships outside the hospital, but give me a call once in a while, if possible.”

She’s right. I do care about rules, and I don’t want any relationship with a patient outside the hospital. Still, she’s kind and generous, and I can’t bring myself to refuse. “I will,” I say, meaning it.

I open the drawer, take the chocolates, and smile. “I’m going to enjoy these. Thank you.”

I hug her tightly and turn to leave.

That’s when Dr. Keller appears in the doorway, the exact moment I’ve been dreading.

His eyes move between the chocolates and my face.

“So this is what you’ve been doing,” he says. “Taking things from my patients. You know this isn’t allowed.”

“I said no,” I reply, my voice shaking. “She insisted, and Kim asked me to take it.”

He cuts me off. “So when someone insists, you forget protocol and go ahead and financially abuse them.”

My mouth falls open. “Abuse? Financial abuse? It’s only chocolates,” I stammer.

“Today chocolates. Tomorrow clothes. The day after that, money. Then something else. It never ends with people like you.”

“Dr. Keller,” Mrs. Jane says sharply. “I asked her to take it. This was for all the staff.”

He ignores her completely. He steps forward and snatches the business card from my hand.

“See how right I was,” he smirks. “A business card. Planning to visit her and get money. Maybe to buy decent clothes or food.” His eyes run over me with open contempt. “If you’re that desperate, ask me.”

Mrs. Jane tries to get up from the bed, then clutches her chest and sinks back, her voice weak. “Don’t do this again. She did nothing wrong. This is my fault.”

He doesn’t even look at her. “People like you shouldn’t ever be trusted.” He reaches into his wallet, pulls out a few twenty-dollar bills, and throws them at my face. “Never steal from my elderly patients. Ask me if you need money.”

I can’t take it anymore. I try to leave, but as I pass him, he grabs my arm. It hurts, and I turn back toward him.

“Don’t rush off,” he says, “not with this.” He yanks the chocolate box from my hands and throws it onto the table. Then, with his arm stretched toward the door, he says loudly, “Now you can leave. And hear me clearly. This is going on your record. Make sure this never happens again.”

As I walk out, I hear Mrs. Jane yelling at him. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you out of your mind? I’m filing a formal complaint against you.”

I go straight to the treatment room and sit silently on the floor, leaning my back against the closed door. This time, I don’t cry.

How much more am I going to cry over him? There’s no point.

Don’t cry. Don’t fall for his tricks. Let it pass through you. Don’t let it settle, no matter how hard it feels. With practice, you can do this. I remind myself.

I sit there until my thoughts calm. I take off my shoes and socks, extend my legs, and lean further back, trying to relax.

Five minutes later, I hear the announcement.

“Code Blue. Surgical floor. Room eleven.”

At first, it doesn’t register.

The announcement comes again.

Then a third time.

I want to run and help, but I stop myself. Dr. Keller’ll be there. He won’t let me near the patient.

I sit there, trying to figure out who it could be, my mind still foggy from everything that’s happened.

Then it hits me.

Room eleven.

That’s my patient.

I pull on my socks and shoes and run to the floor. I stop short when I see the crash cart outside Mrs. Jane’s room.

When I enter, the team’s already there, fully engaged. Dr. Keller is preparing for intubation. Two staff members are doing compressions. Another staff member is inserting a cannula. Kim’s preparing medication. Jake’s setting up suction. Dr. Brooks is watching the monitor.

I move to stand beside Kim as she draws ketamine into a syringe.

Dr. Keller looks up. “Suction ready?” he asks. Then he sees me. “Out,” he yells, snapping his fingers. “You. Out.” He points straight at me.

Compressions pause. Kim freezes mid-movement. Jake stops. Dr. Brooks turns from the monitor.

For a fraction of a second, everything stops.

Then the room resumes its rhythm.

Everyone except Dr. Brooks, who watches as I step out of the room, my head lowered.