Bad Habits Part 4

Simone surprisingly gave her the s.p.a.ce she needed.

"Okay. Well, I love you."

"Love you too."

"Dr., a minute?"

"Of course." Mathew reclined back in his chair closing the patient file. The Hospital Administrator, Alice Murphy, was a by the books type of woman. Just over six feet tall, she had long legs, long arms, long fingers and a long neck. Her beady eyes were magnified behind thick red-rimmed gla.s.ses. Her nasal speech always set the patients and doctors at Mercy Hospital on edge. She, of course, only arrived to shove policy down their throats, pa.s.s out a pink slip, or preach of doom and gloom from a malpractice suit.

"What is it, Murphy?"

"The incident yesterday with nurses Kimberly Jensen and Lacy Meeks."

"Right."

"I read your report. It was very detailed. This morning, however, I received a different one. You are now saying the nurses' oversight was due to miscommunication on your part?"

"That's right," he said. He sat forward. "I didn't order the right tests. Nurse Jensen only arrived after Mr. Dagwood had received a prior dose of Betanol. She wasn't aware of the history before she okayed the next. I realized this after I filed the first report. I wanted to make sure there was an accurate accounting."

"Dagwood's chart has Lacey handling all his vitals and administering his meds. Surely she knew to check for his allergies," Murphy frowned.

"Everything is in order. Mr. Dagwood is my patient. He's recovered. You can speak with the nurses, but I am clearing them both on my end. Up to you."

Murphy seemed unmoved. He added a cherry. "Also, in your file you see the waiver he signed releasing the hospital from any wrongdoing. I would think that would make you smile?"

"Hmpf, we need to be mindful of these incidents here at Mercy. You've only been here a short time. I suggest you respect the boundaries between doctors and nurses. It's not your job to protect them. It's their job to a.s.sist and protect you."

"I completely understand," he nodded.

Alice Murphy gave him a distrustful look, turned and left. Mathew watched the door close. He thought about Kimberly Jensen and how fl.u.s.tered she seemed when he changed her tire.

"Hi, Dr. Patel. Are you busy?"

"No, Kimberly, I can see you now."

She did notice his busy scribbling. She hoped it would be enough of a distraction to get her what she needed. Throat dry, palms sweaty, she felt awkward and flushed. After the Dagwood incident, she said she would focus. Now her stomach was sour. Anxiety had made her hands unsteady, and she kept swallowing nausea. She wouldn't survive the rest of the day. She was barely on s.h.i.+ft, and she had twelve more hours to go.

"What is it, Kimberly?" Patel asked. Indonesian, with dark brown skin and jet black hair, he had a presence about him that was calming for some and considered aloof by others. Patients either clung to him or made statements that he made them uncomfortable-mostly female.

"My prescription, I need a refill. I was wondering if I could-"

Patel lowered his pen. He looked up at her, concerned. "You finished the Oxycodone?"

Something in the way he looked at her and the smug note in his voice made her ball her hands into fists in the front of her scrubs. "Yes. The back pain, well it's starting to be more persistent."

"Have a seat," he gestured with a raised brow. "Maybe we need to take some more x-rays and see if there is anything that should cause us more concern?"

She didn't want a seat. She sure as h.e.l.l didn't want an exam. She stopped using him as her personal doctor, lying that she'd found a family pract.i.tioner. The exams made her feel uncomfortable. At first she thought it was her grief, but he was just too attentive to her pain. Back then he told her that the Vicodin would help. And it did, but then he suggested her moving to Oxy. As a nurse, she knew the dangers, but she was in so much internal pain, she didn't question his generosity, or unorthodox methods. Now every month she kept coming back for more, having discovered that snorting it was more powerful than taking the pill, and the effects lasted longer from a former patient who was an addict-she adopted that habit. Then came the nosebleeds. She stopped snorting, and now her urges weren't easily satisfied.

Kim sat in the chair and tried to be patient. She just needed a little bit more until the lawsuit was settled and she could cut back on her hours to be a good mother to her babies.

"Seems like we aren't getting you well. That's a shame. Maybe we need to re-evaluate what works best."

Kim frowned. Was he going to switch her over to another narcotic? Oxy was what worked best. It helped her function. As if reading her mind, he rose from his desk and walked over with concern in his eyes. Kneeling in front of her, he placed a hand to her knee. "What you really need is therapy."

"Therapy? For what?" she asked, looking down at his hand.

"My program, one I've gotten Mercy to start for post-partum. I can give you the individual attention to address your pain. You're ready."

"Post partum? I'm not suffering from post partum. You and I both know this is from the botched epidural when I gave birth to my sons."

"You're perfectly healthy," Patel smirked, giving her knee a squeezed. She clamped her legs shut and his hand dropped away.

"Doctor, just give me my refill, please," Kim sniffed. She closed her eyes to a wave of nausea that burned her throat with acidity. The reflux subsided, but the cramping was just starting.

The doctor just stared. Kim opened her eyes to see he was standing again but extremely close. His shoes touched hers. He took her hand and forced her to rise. "I understand your discomfort. I'm worried about you, Kim. With the addictive nature of Oxy, you've been on them too long. Plus, I hear there was an incident here. A patient slipped into a coma under your watch. You're lucky he came out of it and doesn't want to sue the hospital. Murphy isn't happy right now. If she knew..."

"Knew what? I-I I'm doing my job."

"Right, still, maybe this is my fault; maybe the meds have impaired your ability to do your job."

"You prescribed them for me."

"Not for recreation," his voice sharpened.

"Don't do this. I'm working long s.h.i.+fts here, and my back is killing me. I need something to get me through."

"Then you need to let me help you," Dr. Patel said, pinching her chin. "Let me talk to Murphy to see if we can get you into my program during your s.h.i.+ft hours. That way you and I can spend more time together... working on your problem."

"No, no." She recoiled from his touch. She nearly knocked the chair back as she rose. "I don't want to experiment with my pain. No thanks." She knew there was more on the table than that. But she tried to ignore it. She had to. She didn't need the doctor cutting her off or thinking of a payoff. She just needed her refill. G.o.d, what was she going to do? Murphy tested her and what would come up in her blood with how frequent she's been taking the Oxy would cost her, her job, or worse. Her eyes stung with tears of frustration.

"I'm offering you help. All I ever wanted to do was help you," he said.

"If you hadn't botched my epidural in the first place, I wouldn't have needed anything now. Would I?" She stepped back from him. "It's okay. Forget it. I'll get another doctor. Thanks."

"Jensen, wait." He grabbed her hand. She looked back at him and he squeezed it. "No doctor can give you the help you need. The kind you snort up your nose."

"I do not!"

"Nose bleeds? I've seen them too."

Panic rioted in her. She s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand away just as Mathew opened the door. He paused. Glaring at Patel, she stepped back. If she hadn't been walking around with blinders on, she wouldn't have ignored the feeling that something wasn't right with Patel. She turned and collided directly with Mathew. Her eyes lifted to his and he looked down into hers with concern. She guessed it was the tears she'd been fighting to hold back. She dropped them away, ashamed.

"Is something wrong?" Mathew asked.

"Ah, no... Nurse Jensen was just leaving," Dr. Patel said, returning to his desk. Kim pushed past Mathew without speaking. She felt his hand on her arm trying to stop her, to talk possibly, but she kept going. She didn't need this c.r.a.p. She would stay away from Patel, away from the Oxy. She was used to living with pain now. This couldn't be any worse.

That p.r.i.c.k! she shouted in her head. f.u.c.king c.o.c.k-sucker, pervert.

Kim could feel her skin going from cold to feverish. The urge to purge breakfast had her stumbling on her feet. She turned, a bit confused as to which hall had the closest bathroom.

"Nurse Jensen? You and I need to speak," a voice called out to her. She thought it was Murphy. Wasn't sure. Didn't care. She just kept going.

"Kim, I need to get Dr. Landers' signature on Alvin English's release. He isn't answering any of his pages. He's on rotation, but I can't find him. We're moving her to..."

She kept going. Her hand shot up to her mouth and covered it. Just as she saw the bathroom in her sights, Lacy stepped in front of her. "Am I in trouble? Murphy said that she would speak with me after she spoke with you. Mr. Dagwood is better. I just saw him. Am I in trouble, Kim? I need my job."

"Later, a minute, give me.... a-" She started to hyperventilate. "Get back to work. I will come find you." She turned the corner, leaving Lacy behind. She bypa.s.sed the bathroom. In her desperation, she ran for another door. One that should always remain closed to people like her. Kim used her badge and unlocked the room off-limits to all nurses under her charge. She quickly slipped in. She knew better. She should turn and walk away. She wasn't going to resort to stealing, to sneaking.

Blinded by her desperate aches, she went to the shelves searching for sample boxes, something dropped off by the pharmaceutical pimps that constantly wanted to throw them freebies. She found a box and ripped it open. Inside were double packs of Vicodin. Close enough. She grabbed four packs and put them in the front of her lab coat. Suddenly, the door opened.

"Kim?"

She whirled around to see Mathew standing there. "Huh?"

"I saw you come in. Are you okay?"

"Oh, yes. I was um... was looking for some Xylenol to see if uh...we had them, um kept them here, I mean. You know?"

She saw his eyes narrow on her. She realized she was panting, stammering. She bit down on her bottom lip and tried to keep herself focused. Why was it so hard lately to just stay focused?

"Kim, are you sure you're okay?" he asked with genuine concern, stepping toward her. She wished they'd all just give her s.p.a.ce so she could focus!

"Kim?"

But she couldn't focus. Not another minute. Everything was wrong. She was wrong. She had messed up and Dennis was dead. Dead. Dead.

"Kim?"

"Just leave me alone!" she shouted at Mathew. Then she covered her mouth at her outburst. He, however, looked at her with even more concern.

"Excuse me," she said, trying to go around him. He stepped in her s.p.a.ce, crowding her. She was forced to back up into the aisle.

"Talk to me. How can I help?" he asked, his hands going to her shoulders gently to stop her. The battle was lost. There would be no focus. Not now. She burst into tears. Mathew drew her to him. Before she knew it, he was holding her. He let her cry into his chest until it became awkward for them both. Mathew located sheets of paper towels and gave them to her.

"Come with me."

She wanted to object. How could she? She followed him out. Thankfully, no one was there. He ushered her to the nearest break room. The few people seated were not staff. Kim found a plastic chair and dropped in it.

"Here, drink this."

"No, I'm fine. I should go back to work."

"Drink. That's an order."

Kim shyly lifted her eyes from the paper cone and connected with a pair of deep-set hazel ones. His lashes were almost long enough to make him feminine, but the dreamy cast to his stare, with lids always a fraction close, and a fraction open, was all male. For the first time in months, she noticed the doctor had nice eyes. His focus singular, his stare paralyzing, she had to look away. Here was Dr. Mathew Donnelly, the man that made the nurses' hearts go pitter-patter. He took no-nonsense in his operating rooms or with the care of his patients but was always respectful of her and the nurses under her when dispensing orders and setting expectations. He was an enigma to most of his colleagues, yet mostly invisible to her. Now she saw the only person in the world with the touch, voice, and eyes that made her want for a little understanding. With his sandy brown hair, chiseled squared chin, high cheekbones and athletic build, he was definitely worthy of the rumors and fantasies he stirred when he entered a room.

"Please, Kim, drink," he said. This time it was with more patience, if that was possible. He pushed the cone under her chin. What he must think of her to find her the way he did. Her chest burned, and her cheeks flushed with embarra.s.sment. She reached for the paper cone. Her hand shook until his fingers covered her own to steady the slight tremble.

Was it her nerves or the internal ache to take a pill? She wasn't sure. She tired of pretending she was okay. Kim put the paper rim to her lips and slowly took a sip from the cool drink, letting it coat her dry throat.

"Good girl," he winked.

She nodded, eyes following as he stood. He was tall. Her Dennis wasn't tall. She never cared for height on a man. She was just five feet four. But seeing him rise, with his broad shoulders and strong arms, she began to wonder if tall was indeed the way to go. He stepped away from her, shot a look at the two others in the room. The people rose and left. His attention then returned to her. He grabbed the other chair by the arm and set it in front of her, allowing his entire frame to cover the seat.

"If it's personal-"

"It is," Kim snipped. Her tone, icy and sharp-she meant it. He didn't seem to take offense. She avoided his eyes all the same. She planned to leave it at that. "Thank you, Doctor... uh Mathew, but I really do need to get back on the floor. Murphy is already gunning for me."

"Was it Patel? Did he say something to upset you?"

"What? Why did you ask that?"

"I've heard rumors of his behavior with the nurses. If he said or did something-"

"No. It's not. I don't need you involving yourself... like that," she bristled.

He gave her a smile. "Bad habit. I apologize. Chivalry is dead in this city, but I'm not from here, remember?"

She didn't know what he meant. Remember what? She knew very little of him and never inquired. He could be from planet Pluto and she wouldn't care. But he gave a deep chuckle that forced her to smile as well. "It's just been a rough morning, rough day actually," she said with a deep sigh.

"The car? Tire?" he pressed.

"You sure do ask a lot of questions," Kim chuckled.

"I'm doing it again, huh?" Mathew winked.

"Yes, you are."

Mathew nodded.

Silence.

"Okay, if we can't talk about what's upset you, then we have to talk about payment," Mathew said.

"Payment? For what?" she asked.

"For changing the tire. I believe that means that you owe me lunch, my treat."

"That's not how that works."

"Of course it is." He looked down at his watch, the concentration lines around his eyes deepening. "We're right on time too. There's a Pizzeria a block over. I hear it is pretty good, but I have been avoiding it for months. Now I'm in the mood for something cheesy and greasy. Did I say it was my treat?"

Kim blinked at him for a moment. He was flirting. What the h.e.l.l was wrong with the doctors in this place? Did every one of them have nurse fantasies? She crumbled the paper cup in her hand, balling it into her fist.