typea_all (8 page)

     I wanted to buy a new nightgown to leave at Ryan's, although I would take it home first and wash it. The ones I buy at Wal-Mart are fine for home, but I like something special for Ryan's place.

     Ryan and I have this deal. If I wear pajamas, I have to take off the bottoms when I get into bed, so it is easier if I just wear nightgowns.  I like them long and flannel; Ryan likes them short and made out of anything.  I also like them on the big side, with extra room so they are easier to take off in the middle of the night when I get my hot spells.  So while I could wear a medium, I always buy them extra-large. 

     When we got to the store, I asked the clerk to show me where the extra-large long flannel nightgowns were located.

     She looked at me. "Buying something for a gift?"

     "No, just for me."

     "Dear, you don't wear an extra-large. Let me show you what we have in small."

     "No, I'd like to see extra-large please."

     "But that would be too big. Here, let me show you."

     She picked up a lacy satin nightgown so short that it wouldn't cover my navel, and so small it probably wouldn't fit over my head. Why does this always happen to me?

     "That's not for me. Please. Long, flannel, extra-large. Maybe there's someone else who can help me?" 

     "That's fine. Here, follow me."

     We walked over an aisle and she showed me this lacy satin gown in extra-large.

     The store was tightly packed with merchandise, and I was starting to feel very hot and closed in. I knew that I had very limited time before I had to run out and throw myself in the water fountain. I could feel the sweat on the back of my neck and my clothes starting to stick to me. The poor salesperson just happened to get dumb at the wrong time.

     "Can you tell me what words you have trouble understanding?" I asked her. "Now that you learned extra and large, is the word flannel not in your vocabulary?"  Here was proof that evolution can go in reverse.

     By this time, Ryan must have tired at looking at the pictures of girls in lingerie that were hanging around the place, because I saw him wander out of the store into the mall.

     She said, "There's no reason to get snippy."

     "I'm not snippy," I snipped. "I just wish you would show me what I want to buy, not what you want to sell me. I'll try to be nicer if you try to be smarter."

     She showed me a few things, I hated them all, and walked out of the store after a polite "Thank you."

     "Can we go?" I asked Ryan when I finally found him looking in the window of a bookstore. "And can you turn on the air conditioner on the way back?"

     I left for home before dinner, letting Ryan fend for himself. I wanted to get home before it got dark – I don't like driving at night – and I wanted time to mentally prepare myself for Monday morning.  I drove half of the way home with the back windows open and the air conditioner on. At one point I pulled over to the side of the road and just held my face against the cold window.

Chapter 8

     Monday went fine, sort of.

     I had a great time with Ryan during the weekend. The deepest part of my lower body was still feeling the aftershocks, so I wore my Love One earrings: one is a tennis racket, the other a tennis ball. I'm not into tennis, I just love the name of the earrings, and the color and shape of the racket reminds me of a big lollipop.

     The hospital must have been short-staffed, because when I got in, Joan told me that Lipschitz wanted me to cover in the main lab that morning. A week ago I would have been happy for the chance, but I had really grown used to the quiet regime of the outpatient lab. I wasn't so charged up about walking over to the hospital and taking blood from sick people. I also wanted to talk to Joan about her pregnancy, and I didn't want to give up my chocolate chip and walnut pancakes.

     "Can we just talk a little, about what you told me on Friday, before I go over?"

     "We can talk later. You better get over there before Lipschitz explodes."

     I grabbed my stuff, walked over to the hospital, and introduced myself to the lab personnel. I was having a hot spell when I arrived, so I got a cool drink and sat for a few minutes before getting to work. The other girls understood those sorts of things.

Most of the morning, I stayed in the lab and took blood from patients that were rolled down. But about 11:30 an orderly dropped off a slip to go to room 304 to take a sample from Mrs. Murphy. I clocked in the request, collected my stuff, and walked up the room.

     The room was a single, with only patient, but I checked the chart and ID bracelet anyway. I wanted to make damn sure that I took blood from the right person. Sure enough, the chart and bracelet said that the elderly lady in the bed was Mrs. Murphy, in because of a heart condition.

     She seemed sedated, lying on her back, so I gave her a gentle shake. It didn't wake her up, and I hated to disturb her, so I just pulled an arm out of the blanket and started what I had come for.  Mrs. Murphy had very bad veins. I couldn't find a vein on the right arm at all, so I went over to the other side and pulled out the left arm. I found what seemed to be a likely candidate, wiped and tied it off, and pulled out a pediatric needle.

     I didn't have much luck, though. I went in once, but didn't want to probe around. Really shouldn't have to. So I pulled out the needle, and felt for the vein again. I could hardly find it, but finally tried again.  I pushed the needle in, but again, no luck. The needle was still in Mrs. Murphy when I heard "What do you think you're doing?" from the doorway.

     Standing there was a nurse that made a gargoyle look beautiful. My first reaction was that if you painted a few black spots on her uniform she'd be sacred in India.  My second reaction was to say "Taking this patient's blood, what does it look like I'm doing?"

     "Really? And who ordered the test?"

     "How should I know? The orderly just dropped off the paperwork."

     "Show me the slip."  An order not a request, and I hate getting orders.

     "Would you mind waiting?" I was having another hot spell and not in the best of moods.

     "I do mind waiting. I want to see it now."

     "You'll wait until I'm done. I've already started and I don't want to make Mrs. Murphy anymore uncomfortable than I'm sure you already have."

     "This is my floor, and you'll do what I say." She came over and grabbed the paperwork.

     "I don't care if this is your wall and ceiling as well. You can own the toilet and bedpans for all I care. I'll be out as soon as I'm done."

     "Well, you're done now lady. Mrs. Murphy died about an hour ago."

     I jumped up. "She's dead?" I just hate being close to dead people.

     "If you bothered to ask, or even looked at the chart carefully, you'll see the TOD was 10:45. This order was written at 8:15 this morning."

     Thank God, I thought I was losing my touch. It wasn't my fault that I couldn't get any blood from her.

     "In that case, I'll be going then."  I pulled the needle out of her arm, tucked her arm back under the blanket, and collected my things.

     "Where do you think you're going?" Nurse Gargoyle asked.

     "Back down to the lab. I'm done here. Now why don't you put on your beeper and back on out of here."

     She kept on talking, and I kept on walking. By the time I got down to the lab, Lipschitz was already there. He looked particularly bad today; his stomach entirely covered his belt, and he smelled like a burnt English muffin.

     "Hi, John," I said casually.

     "What happened? I just got a call from the head nurse on three."

     "You mean Nurse Gargoyle?  No problem, just a little misunderstanding about the viability of a patient."

     "She told me the patient was dead, and that you're incompetent and rude."

     "Well, she was right about the dead part. The rest was all her fault."

     "Let me see the paperwork.  You really shouldn't have been rude to her, you know. Let's see." He took the papers. "The slip was written at 8:15 but clocked in the lab at 11:28. Did you stamp it as soon as it arrived?"

     "As soon as the orderly dropped it off. If the slip was late then ask the orderly why it took three hours to get from the third floor to the lab."

     "It doesn't matter. Just if you ever come over here again, try to make nice to the nurses. Go back over to outpatient now; I think they need you more."

     "Okay, I can make nice." But, I thought, there's one orderly that was going to be very sorry for what happened.

     There was a cool breeze outside that felt nice against my hot skin, so I took my time walking back to the lab. I wanted to cool down as much as possible before going back indoors.

Someday, I thought, I'd have to do something about these spells, but I wasn't quite ready yet, I just felt too young to go onto hormone replacement therapy. I know from my training that menopause, if that's what I had, not only causes hot spells and night sweats, but vaginal dryness and irritability. Neither of those last two symptoms has bothered me yet, although Ryan would probably disagree on the irritability issue.

When I got back to the outpatient lab, Joan was busy with a patient, so I called the next victim. We didn't have time to talk until closing time.

     "How are you feeling?" I asked her.

     "Fine. I'm sorry about falling apart on you Friday. Things are just happening too fast."

     "It does seem to be going fast, Joan. I mean getting pregnant and then rushing into marriage with Steve."

     "What do you mean, rushing? I thought you were happy about the wedding?"

     "I am happy about it, as long as it's what you really want. Do you want to get married?"

     "I honestly don't know. I really like Steve. We have a lot in common and he says he loves me."

     "Do you love him?"

     "I don't know. I love being with him. I don't know how I feel. I just never pictured myself as a mother, let alone a single mother."

     "Do you want the baby?"

     "At first I didn't. But the more I think about it, the more I want to have it."

     "How does Steve feel about the whole thing? Does he want to get married only because of the baby? That's not a real solid way to start a marriage." 

I really know what I'm talking about here because I learned a lot from my soap operas. In the soaps, people are getting pregnant all the time. They usually don't know who the father is, and if they do, they blame it on someone else anyway.

     "He's been wonderful. He says he really wants to marry me, and he wants us to have children."

     "Just don't be afraid to take things slowly. Make sure it's right before you do anything."

     "I will. Thank you so much." We hugged again and she gave me a little kiss on my cheek. I'm not used to getting so close to women friends, but I figured her hormones were running rampant.

******

     By the end of the conversation, I really needed a little pick-me-up before going home. So after work, I drove over to the shoe store on Route 9. I just had to find those shoes. Sure enough, they had a pair in my size, and as I was paying for them, the door opened and Jules walked in.

     "Hey, Jules. Thanks for the tip. I just got a pair." I picked up the shoes and waved them at her.

     "They'll look great on you," she said.

     "Listen, I want to thank you for the other day. I don't know what was going on, but I'm glad you..."

     "You don't have to thank me," she interrupted. "I know Jason and Bruno can get a little carried away at times."

     "Are you all right at work, though?  I mean, they won't fire you for letting me go, will they?"

     "Fire me?" she laughed.  "No way."

     "Well, you must either be a very good assistant or have something on Reynolds." I didn't say what I thought the real link was between them.

     "No. Dad would never get rid of me. I know all of his secrets."

     Dad. Did she mean Reynolds or Bruno?

     "Your father? You said your last name was Singreen"

     "Jason Reynolds is actually my step-father. Singreen is my father's name."

     "Oh."

     "My mother is his second wife. She married him just for the money, to be honest, and I hate her for it. Jason's really not too bad of a guy, he's been very kind to me. I kept my old name just to annoy my mother."

     "Do you have any idea what was going on?"

     "All I know is that he's acting stranger than usual these days. He's been very nervous and spending a lot of time with Bruno."

     "And Bruno is?"

     "A little muscle that Jason keeps around. A gopher, and harmless, most of the time. Runs errands, does odd jobs. I really don't know what's going on. I'm just sorry what happened to you the other night."

     I held up the shoes. "No problem, it was well worth it.  I would have never known about these shoes."

     "Let me tell you, if you have a man, show him the shoes when all you're wearing is underwear. I guarantee a response."

     Ryan didn't need much incentive, but I planned to take Jules' advice anyway.

     When I got home, I cleaned off the shoes and the shoebox. I keep all of my shoes on the floor of one closet, neatly stacked in columns and rows. On the end of each box I write the color and type of shoe inside with a thick black marker, so I can quickly pick out the shoes that I want to wear.

     After showering and eating, I did some bills and other paperwork, and spent about two hours on the phone with Marcie and with Kathy, an old friend from Philadelphia.

     I also spoke with Ryan.

     "It's me."

     "Hi, Brooke. You know I miss you already?"

     "I was just there."

     "I can't help it. I want to kiss you all over. I'm getting hard just thinking about you."