Someone was bent over looking into a dryer as she slung her soft-sided hamper up onto the folding table in the middle of the room. Turning around, she opened two washers and put her detergent in, then dumped her dark load in one machine and her light load in the other. Popping her quarters into the slots, she let the lids close.
Apparently she caught the other person by surprise. “Ouch!” He swore as she heard his head smack into something.
“Are you okay?” She asked as she spun around. Oh crap. It was Matt!
“I’m fine,” he growled. “Son of a bitch, that hurt.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you. Can I run upstairs and get you some ice?”
He looked up at the sound of her voice. “I, er, uh … no thanks.” Matt slammed a wet t-shirt down on the table.
“Trouble with the dryer?”
“It didn’tdryanything!” He spun around and kicked it. “I don’t understand. I should be able to figure this out!”
Despite his grouchiness, Rosie wanted to help. “Let me see.” He said nothing while she walked around the table to his machine, not even looking at her to acknowledge that she’d spoken.
“Here’s the problem. The coin mechanism is stuck. They’re old; it happens sometimes. You have to make sure it’s pushed in all the way.” Picking his shirt up off the table, she tossed it back into the dryer, and slammed the arm with the coins into its slothard.
“I could have done that.” He scowled. “Pretty sure I’m stronger than you.”
“Well, I’m stronger than I look.” A shiver ran through her, and it wasn’t from the cold basement. The reception was awful chilly as well. She could tell when she wasn’t wanted around. “You’re welcome,” she called out over her shoulder as she marched back up the stairs. She could set a timer and come back down when her load was clean instead of waiting around like she usually did.
Olivia’s brother might be cute, but he’d really grown into a grouch.
Chapter 4
Itwasfeedingtimein the Union Memorial Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, or NICU, for short. Rosie had Ellie, a cute little thing with a big personality, who had been born early and required a tracheostomy. She had a reputation for pretending to fall asleep during feedings. Every time, Rosie would ask her, “Are you playing possum?” and the tiny infant would smile around her bottle.
Anyone who said babies didn’t understand speech didn’t know what they were talking about. Exact words, maybe not, but tone of voice? Absolutely.
Babies needed to weigh five pounds and be otherwise healthy before they were discharged from the NICU to the step-down unit. Even once she went home, Ellie would require home health nurses until her trach could be removed.
Her next patient was Stephen, a little boy who’d required fetoscopic surgery to repair spina bifida, a hole in the spine. His prognosis was good, they were just keeping him as a formality to ensure there were no complications. He’d be going home shortly. His mom was in there, nursing on schedule just as the doctor ordered. They had mom’s breast milk sitting in the fridge for all the babies, but encouraged nursing for the ones that were able.
And then, there was baby Jayden. He was still there. At six months of age, he should have been in the PICU, or Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. But he was still in the NICU due to the severity of his condition. Every time they tried to take him off his ventilator, he stopped breathing.
At this point, all the nurses had become attached to him. He was a calm baby, only requiring enough drugs to keep him comfortable with the vent. His family was huge; running around after nine other children meant his parents couldn’t come visit as much as they’d like. So, Rosie spent a little extra time with him when she could.
That’s probably why she noticed he was more lethargic than usual. It took longer to rouse him, and he had issues staying awake for his feeding. Even if it was through a tube, it was good to keep them on a routine for when they started eating on their own. His pulse was a bit faster than normal, and his oxygen level wasn’t where she liked it to be either. Rosie’s brow furrowed. Something didn’t seem right.
In the hall outside the room, she used her cordless hospital phone to dial the neonatologist on call.
“This is Dr. Yount.”
Rosie took a deep breath and rattled off Jayden’s symptoms and room number. The older woman had a very stern demeanor, so Rosie was as precise as possible.
“I don’t see a cause for alarm, Rose. Ventilation is hard on the body and he’s probably just tired.” Ugh, Rose wasnother name. But she didn’t feel like reminding the doctor again.
“What about his heart rate and O2?” Surely that warranted testing, even just a quick glucose check.
“I don’t see a need for any tests right now. Keep me posted. If he’s still tachycardiac, or worsens, give me a call.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Rosie ended the call with a sigh, a twisted, sinking feeling in her gut. She noted everything they’d discussed in Jayden’s chart. And, after a moment of hesitation, included where Dr. Yount said testing wasn’t necessary. If nothing happened, it would be fine.
A few hours later, she’d been called on to help with a complicated admission, and she hadn’t gotten to make the additional vitals check on Jayden like she’d wanted. When Gabe came in for the day shift, she saved Jayden’s bedside report for last.
“If his heart rate is still elevated or he’s still de-satting, call the on-call right away. To quote my favorite movie, ‘I have a bad feeling about this.’”
