Call #4
My latest admission claims she hasn’t been poisoned but I have good reason to be skeptical.
This is 62-year-old Gloria Vargas’s second admission for chest pain. She’s a tiny, dark-skinned woman who has been rubbing the left side of her chest every few minutes as I talk to her. I have her old chart from her first admission, which I obtained after Alyssa screamed at me for five straight minutes about how it wasn’t possible to see a patient if you didn’t review their old chart first. On her first chest pain admission, Mrs. Vargas’s urine tested positive for amphetamines. It came out that her husband had slipped some meth into her morning coffee. Because caffeine sometimes just isn’t enough to get you going.
The first thing I did was order a urine tox on her to check for amphetamines again. One thing I’m learning from working at County Hospital is that nobody ever admits to taking drugs. Even when confronted with the results of a positive urine tox, they will stare you right in the eyes and swear on their life they never snorted cocaine. If that’s true, then how did it get in your pee, huh? A visit from the cocaine fairies?
“I didn’t take any meth this time,” Mrs. Vargas swears to me from her hospital bed, looking me straight in the eye.
Yeah, right.
“My husband had a drug problem,” she says to me, her brown eyes wide and earnest. “But he’s gotten help.”
Sure he has.
“He’s better now.” Sure he is.
“Also,” she says with a mischievous smile. “I make my own coffee now. Just in case.”
“You know we got a urine tox screen,” I remind her.
“Rightfully so,” she says. She laughs. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”
She rubs her chest then. Her hands are very steady, in spite of everything. I bite my lip. I don’t want to be that naïve intern who keeps
getting taken in by the drug addicts. I really don’t.
“I used to be a nurse, you know,” Mrs. Vargas says.
“You did?” I say, looking at her with a newfound respect. And nervousness. Whenever I take care of a healthcare provider, I always worry they’ll figure out I don’t know what I’m doing. They’ll realize that when I’m putting my stethoscope on their chest every single morning, I’m not really listening half the time.
She nods. “Before my back went out. I worked in pediatrics.” She gets a misty look in her eyes. “I miss it.”
Crap. She’s actually starting to make me believe she didn’t take meth.
I mean, it’s possible. She doesn’t look like she’s high. She’s not shaking or saying bizarre things. And she seems like such a nice lady. I really want to believe her urine tox is going to be negative.
I mean, just because I’m working at County Hospital, does that necessarily mean everyone has to be a drug addict?
Don’t answer that.
I sneak up to the call room to have my lunch because I feel like I need a few minutes of quiet. The call rooms are incredibly quiet during the day. Nobody goes to that floor in the daytime aside from the cleaning staff. I feel like it’s more peaceful than my apartment, because there’s no risk of Julia pounding on the door and accusing me of, like, stealing a grain of rice or something.
I settle down at the desk with my sandwich of chicken with pesto sauce, which sounds good yet still manages to be sort of ruined by the cafeteria. The pesto is runny and the chicken is dry, but it’s edible. I swallow my first bite when I hear a knock at the door to the call room. It’s probably housekeeping, come to change the sheets.
“Come back later!” I yell at the door. “Room occupied! Ocupado!” “No, must change sheets now!” an accented male voice yells back.
Bastard. I put down my sandwich and sprint to the door, and yank it open to give the housekeeper a piece of my mind. Except it isn’t housekeeping.
“Ryan!” As I swat at him, I can’t help but notice the firmness of his chest. Why does he have to keep being so damn s*xy? “You’re an asshole.”
He grins at me. “Are you saying you don’t want me to change your sheets?”
“I’m eating lunch, you know,” I say, pointing at my sandwich. “Lunch is for the weak,” Ryan says. I have to admit, I’m not certain
if I’ve ever seen him sit down for an actual meal. “Well, then I’m weak.”
My pager goes off at that moment and I’m 99% sure it’s Alyssa, wanting to hear about Mrs. Vargas and her chest pain. My few minutes of peace are over.
“Go ahead,” Ryan says. “Return the page. I’ll entertain myself.”
The room is equipped with a phone, so I sit down on the bed and call Alyssa back. I tell her about Mrs. Vargas, and explain about the prior history of the positive urine tox, but that I actually think she’s telling the truth this time. She really didn’t seem like she was on meth.
As I’m talking on the phone, Ryan sits at the other end of the bed, takes my left leg in his hand and removes my Dansko clog. He places my foot on his lap and starts massaging my toes, my forefoot, then my heel and ankle. As I read off Mrs. Vargas’s cardiac enzymes to Alyssa, I feel Ryan’s fingers slipping up my scrub pants and massaging my calf. Crap, when was the last time I shaved my legs? Oh, who cares?
“Jane?” Alyssa’s voice on the phone seems very far away. “Huh?” I say.
She sighs. “Are you still awake?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I mumble. Ryan snorts loudly and I give him a look. “Can you repeat that?”
“I said I’ll meet you in the resident lounge in ten minutes,” Alyssa says. “We need to do your mid-rotation feedback.”
Oh, joy.
I put down the phone and glare at Ryan, who has an amused look on his face. “Did you get taken in by another drug addict?” he asks me.
“No,” I huff. “She’s telling the truth. I’m pretty sure.” “Come on, Jane…”
“Not everyone is a liar,” I say, as I pick up my sandwich and take an extra-large bite. If Alyssa says we’re meeting in ten minutes, she really means five.
“I bet you anything that urine tox is positive,” Ryan retorts.
I fold my arms across my chest. “You’re on. It’s a bet.” Mrs. Vargas, don’t let me down! “What are the terms?”
He thinks for a minute. “If I win, then… I get to second base.” I raise my eyebrows. “And second base is…?”
“Full access to boobies.”
I laugh. “Seriously? Okay, and what if I win?”
Ryan’s hand moves up my calf and rests on my bare knee. “Then
you get to second base.”
“And what’s second base for me?” He waggles his eyebrows at me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I roll my eyes. “Fine. What do you want then?”
“Okay, deal.”
Ryan holds out his hand to me and we shake on it. I can’t help but feel that either way, I’m going to come out a winner on this.
Hours awake: 9
Chance of Mrs. Vargas having a positive urine tox: Who am I kidding? Like, 99%.
