I should probably be more concerned about the risk that this situation is putting me in. Both legally and physically. But it’s overshadowed by my concern and possibly tinged with the guilt that I never checked on Tadhg after Mom took me away from them both. I was too young when that happened, sure. But I’ve been an adult for a long time and there was nothing to stop me reaching out to him except my own fear and shame.
The man has clearly been living in a vacuum of affection for his entire life. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so desperately in need of a littletenderness. I’m sure he’d lose his shit if I phrased it that way to him, but it’s the truth.
“Micah!” a voice interrupts my dark musings, and when I look up, I see Tristan leaning over the patient I was on my way to help with. “Is that the centesis kit?”
“Yeah.” I hustle toward him, shoving the sterile supplies in his hands so he can set up for the procedure. I see one of the ER docs hustling over, iPad in hand, which means Tristan and I have a few minutes to get things ready for them while they talk to the patient and get consent.
Rushing a sterile procedure isn’t ideal, but sometimes these things have to happen in the ER, and this can’t wait. The patient has so much extra fluid sitting in his abdomen he can barely breathe. With two people assisting, the doctor should be able to relieve the pressure and finish his intake swiftly.
Tristan and I move together well. Normally, he’s handing a patient off to me instead of working on one at the same time, but I think our minds work in a similar way, so it’s easy to see what needs to be done and fill the gap without a lot of over-communication. By the time the consent form is signed, the patient is as prepped as can be.
Doc grabs the ultrasound, picks a good spot and gets ready to shove the world’s longest needle in there. The patient’s wife cringes at the sight of it, but Tristan and I are inured. I distracther and get her to sit in a nearby chair, while Tristan helps the doc collect some samples of the fluid.
“Are you technically allowed to be helping with this?” I ask him when I turn around, which only gets me an eye roll in return, while the doctor studiously ignores our conversation. Tristan doesn’t answer because he has a small gauze pack between his teeth while his hands are full, which is also against protocol, even if it’s still in the plastic wrapper.
You can take the Army medic out of the field, but you can never take the field medicine out of the medic…
He lets me take the gauze out of his mouth and open it for the doctor while managing to give me another derisive look.
“As if you guys don’t need the help. If the state of Missouri asks, I’m eating lunch right now.”
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before we have several containers full of neon yellow belly liquid and a much thinner patient. The doctor withdraws the needle and hastily puts a Band-Aid over the incision, tosses his sharps in the bin, and then hustles out to get to the next situation.
Tristan lets out a long, deep exhale as we both look at the mess the doc left us.
“I haven’t seen you all week. Does this mean you-know-who is doing better?”
He looks around us and keeps his voice low. I appreciate him trying not to spread the news of my long-lost stepbrother around the hospital, even if I technically did let the department head and HR know when I begged them for more time off. I could still live without the gossip.
“Kind of.” I shrug. “He’s mobile, which is a plus, but that’s the least of my worries, at this point. The stuff he’s involved with is…”
I look at Tristan, his cool green eyes taking mine in. I don’t need to say it because he knows what I mean.
Tristan nods. “Yep. Well, there are ways to get out of that. If that’s what he wants.”
Sighing, I chew my bottom lip for a second before I answer. I don’t know what the fuck he wants, at this point. I just know what heneeds.
“Yeah, well, I’m not in charge here. We’ll see. I gotta go, I have a stack of patients waiting.”
I turn to go, but Tristan doesn’t stop talking.
“Don’t be afraid to suggest it. Even if it pisses him off. Sometimes people are looking for a way out even when they won’t admit it out loud. I speak from experience.”
Turning back to look at him, I narrow my eyes, but he just shrugs and gives me a blank face, refusing to elaborate. The gossip in me is dying to know more about his whole deal, but I don’t have the time to pull it out of him. Later.
The hallway is lined with Welch Allyns, the vitals machines on wheels that automatically send all the info to a patient’s electronic chart. I grab one, punch in my login information and then roll the thing across to Tristan more aggressively than I need to.
“If you’re going to be here working illegally, at least make yourself useful. All the patients on this row need vitals,” I say, pointing at the bays that contain my patients, as well as the two that Rebecca took, even though charge nurses aren’t technically supposed to take patients.
But what are you gonna do?
Tristan grumbles, because swooping in to help out with procedures is a lot sexier than helping with grunt work, which is what we really need. But he does it anyway.
I’ll take the help. And I’ll take his advice about Tadhg on board. Later. When I can think about anything other than how to survive the world’s shittiest swing shift.
I thinkmy brief respite from work made me go soft. Every part of my body aches. I can feel my bones and joints, as if they just want to announce their existence with pain, and walking from my car to the door of my apartment makes my pulse pound in my swollen feet with every step.
Definitely got weak. I need a shower, I need to peel off these disgusting scrubs and compression socks, and I need to sleep.
