Gentleman Sinner(45)
‘Not yet.’
I look down at my watch. ‘It’s a bit late now. Let me chase it up for you. Here’s your supper.’
‘Oh, joy,’ she mutters, flipping a hand to her wheelie table. I push it towards her and watch with a smile as she grimaces at the tray.
‘Bon appétit,’ I call, heading back to the nurses’ station.
After disposing of Mable’s pee and giving the empty bag to a health-care assistant to hook back up, I take a seat at the computer and load Mable’s file, then call the X-ray department. ‘Same old,’ I mutter when I get no answer, hanging up as Susan appears, looking a bit harassed, her round face red. ‘Everything okay?’ I ask as she leans past me to collect a pen.
‘Just a difficult visitor,’ she huffs. ‘It’s not hard. Visiting times are two till four. I don’t know what makes some people think the rules don’t apply to them.’ She jots something down on a pad and tosses it back on the desk.
‘Would you like me to have a word?’ I ask, getting up from my chair. Susan isn’t exactly the most diplomatic, and while most people respect her authority, the odd person questions it. Susan doesn’t like being questioned.
She looks at me with a telling expression. ‘Do you think the ignorant swine will listen to you?’
‘Worth a try, right?’
‘Go on then.’ She nods down the ward. ‘Bay two, bed four.’
‘That’s Percy’s bed.’ The old boy was admitted after a massive heart attack, and on top of that, he’s losing his marbles, bless him. And the raging bladder infection he has isn’t helping.
‘Yes, and Percy’s son is a nasty little so-and-so.’
I head for bay two and run into Rich, one of the hospital porters, as he rounds the corner with an empty wheelchair. ‘Hey.’
He beams at me, his tall, lanky body bent over the wheelchair as he pushes it along. ‘You’re back, and you look like shit.’
Reaching up to my hair, I tuck it behind my ears. I’m too beat to care what I must look like. This shift has been like a baptism by fire. ‘It’s great to be back,’ I chirp, full of feigned enthusiasm. ‘Who are you here for?’
He looks down at his clipboard. ‘Mable Loake. X-ray.’
‘Oh, great. I was just chasing that. She’s bay four, bed one.’ I point down the ward. ‘But she’s just eating her dinner.’
‘No problem.’ He wheels the chair off, grumbling something about having the day from hell. Join the club, I think, carrying on my way.
As soon as I round the corner, I spot a man in the chair beside Percy’s bed, maybe midforties, and his scowl backs up Susan’s gripe. We have a tricky customer. ‘Hi, there, Percy,’ I chirp, focusing on my patient for now, approaching to find him poking at a chicken sandwich. He glances up at me blankly, and I immediately know that today is a bad day. ‘How are you feeling?’ I ask, looking up to his drip, seeing another bag of antibiotics has been administered. He can’t seem to kick this infection. I take a quick peek at the readings on his heart monitor, not liking his erratic heart rate, and take his temperature as I check his charts.
‘How does he look like he’s feeling?’ his son pipes up, standing from his chair. ‘You feed him shit like this’ – he takes the sandwich from his father’s plate and throws it down with force – ‘and scratch your fucking head when he shows no signs of improvement.’
‘Sir, there’s no need to swear,’ I say calmly and diplomatically, looking down at the thermometer to find that Percy’s temperature is dangerously high. ‘Wow, Percy, that’s shot up quickly.’
‘What do you expect with subquality care?’
I inwardly wince, gritting my teeth. ‘Your father is receiving the best care, sir. And visiting hours are now finished,’ I say tactfully, forcing a smile at him.
‘Yes, so I’ve been told,’ he snaps. ‘I know how these places work. Throw out the relatives before you serve this crap so we don’t see the shit you feed our loved ones.’ He flicks a big hand out and sends Percy’s supper flying across the bed. It bounces off my thigh before it hits the floor, and I jump back, startled.
‘Sir, please.’ I stoop and blindly collect up the remnants of his father’s sandwich from the floor as I look at the monitor, noting the quickening of Percy’s heart.
‘And I bet that dirty sandwich finds its way from the floor back on to the plate.’
‘I’ll order him a fresh one,’ I assure him, rising and coming face-to-face with the arrogant arsehole. I step back, not liking his big body looming over me, pushing me into a corner.
I’m safe in a hospital, I tell myself, over and over again, trying not to display the anxious vibes that have sprung up on me. ‘You need to move so I can tend to your father. His temperature is very high and his heart rate is very erratic.’ I fill my voice with all the authority I can muster, pushing my way past him to tend to Percy. ‘Percy?’ I say, finding his eyes are closed. ‘Percy, can you hear me?’ He’s slipped into unconsciousness. ‘Percy?’ I reach for the emergency call button, but my arm is grabbed, and I look back to find Percy’s son snarling at me. I wrench my arm from his grip with a hiss of mild pain, now seething mad that he would hinder my attempts to care for his father. ‘Get your hands off me,’ I grate as I shove him aside and press the call button. I take Percy’s wrist and check his pulse.