“Kip, this is Andy Coates,” Hunt introduced him.
“Welcome,” Kip said.
“You give a guy a Mardi gras-size welcome,” Coates joked.
A flurry of activity swirled around them. Hunt shoved his hands in his pockets. “Is there a place to talk?”
Kip pulled his phone out. With a stylus, he began drawing sketches.
“What are you doing?” Hunt asked.
“A sketch for improvements. Andy, we are doing our best storm mitigation efforts with what we have. How about first impressions?” Kip asked as they sat in a small office.
“Mostly good, caring people working past their limits. Administrators are in two categories: some good, and some suck. A team came in about five hours ago with rolling carts and replaced all the IV pumps, and another team began changing out monitors. A third team replaced all the non-pharmaceutical supplies. And there are four pharmacists going through the pyxis to replace meds. There’s a big issue.” He placed a vial on the table. “The label is a second label.”
Hunt picked it up. “Like the nursing home. Expired med redated.”
Kip opened his phone. “Logan, I need every pharmacist we have on four-hour recall. We need every med at the hospital replaced, whether or not they’re expired.” He listened. “Call Pete Walter. Tell him what you need. Open a budget line.”
“Where have you been all my life?” Coates shook his head. “Just like that?”
“Well, we are dependent on supply availability,” Hunt said.
“Now the big question. Physicians?” Kip raised a brow.
“Haven’t seen enough to make a blanket judgment. Two sides, a thank goodness side and a Sommerstone side,” Coates said. “And, I think the teaching program can be salvaged. It’s going to require heavy duty preceptorship.”
Hunt nodded. “I’ve got a plan for them. They have until September fifteenth, and the hounds of hell descend with scheduling, grand rounds, floor rounds. All something I could only find lip service records to.”
The ER doctor’s pager fired. “Code coming in. Kip, nice meeting you. I’d love to sit in on your conversation with Sabine. Hunt, you want to slum?”
Hunt shook his friend’s hand. “I’d love to stay, but we have the rest of the hospital to hit.” He turned to Kip as they walked away. “You going to fire Sabine?”
“Nope, I’ll give her enough rope to hang herself. Then I’ll fire her.” Kip got up. “Join me. I need a witness.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sabine Landry was no longer employed at Chase Care Hospital. Two members of Crescent 3 escorted her to her office, helped her pack and walked her out. Kip arranged for her to be paid for any accrued time and one month’s severance. She would receive six months’ health insurance and assistance to transfer any of her assets in the retirement fund.
“You’re a nice guy,” Josh remarked, “considering what she said.”
“What did she say? I forgot you speak French.” Kip smiled.
“Espèce de cochon. Comment oses-tu me faire mal paraître.” When Josh repeated what Sabine said in their brief meeting, Kip cocked his head. “She said, ‘You nasty pig. How dare you make me look bad?”
Kip chuckled. “Nasty pig. That’s a new one. Okay, Hunt, where to?”
Kip heard the same stories on every unit that Coates told him. The last unit they hit was OB. He remembered Harper’s discussion of the OB overload.
Hunt, now wearing his Chief lab coat over his suit, keyed into the Labor and Delivery Unit. A group of janitorial personnel were working with Chase personnel to scrub and wash the floors, wipe down all the walls and scrub the waiting room. A crew of maintenance personnel were changing out dead light bulbs and ballasts in the light fixtures.
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Kip said, waving over a Chase supervisor. “What’s going on?”
“Boss, they won’t let us on to the actual unit,” the Chase maintenance supervisor
said.
“Who won’t let the crew inside?” Kip’s eyes narrowed.
“A doctor. The other doctors and nurses seem upset. He threatened them with firing, and then this man with an Irish accent came in and locked the doctor in a supply cabinet. But there’s twenty-something patients in labor.”
