Page 80 of Asystole

“Hey, Ken, I’m about to go into conference. What’s up?” I ask, pretending like this is any other phone call.

“Well, for starters, I’m sitting at your kitchen table. I’ve been waiting here all day to surprise you, but I just found out you won’t even be home until like midnight.”

“What? You’re here?” I give it my best shot, but I’m no actor, and I’m tired as fuck.

“I know he told you, Chase. What I don’t know is why you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you, Kendra. I’m at work. You can’t show up unannounced and expect me to drop everything. Especially because there’s nothing I can drop.” My tone is harsher than necessary because, fuck, I do not need this right now.

I’m standing outside the conference room when Sarah nudges my shoulder and nods her head toward the door, her meaning clear.

Get your ass in there.

“I’ve gotta go, but we can talk when I get home.”

“I’m sure I’ll be asleep. I have an early Zoom call in the morning with marketing.”

So, she came up here to see me, but is still working, yet I’m catching shit for also working? That makes no sense.

After conference, I make my rounds, and I’m ashamed to admit I’m now actively avoiding going home. It’s not yet midnight, like I’d been accused of being out until, and if there’s a chance Kendra is still awake, I’d rather not face the music quite yet.

Taking the elevator to the sixth floor, I complete my scrub-in routine and make my way to the nurse’s station. Thankfully, Romella is on tonight. Romella is a six-foot-tall Slavic woman who takes zero shit. She’s stern as hell, but she’s so amazing with the kids, and they all love her accent.

“Hey Romella,” I say, moving into her line of sight.

“Dr. Chase,” she says with a nod. “Marcy needs her sleep. You know that,” she chastises me.

“I do,” I confirm. “I won’t wake her. Just want to check in.”

Romella hits a few keys on the keyboard and turns the screen to face me.

“I’m going to check on the little boy in room twelve. Please stop logging in to look at her chart before someone catches on. Read it here if you must.”

I move into the nurse’s station to read through Marcy’s chart under Romella’s log-in. We’re breaking about forty hospital rules right now, but I’m so grateful for the access that I don’t hesitate.

Marcy’s numbers look good, and my heart soars.

Her treating physician’s plan of care is…no way…no freaking way! They anticipate that Marcy can go home in two and a half weeks!

I could shout for fucking joy, but I swallow it down because I don’t want to wake the entire ward.

But holy fucking shit!

Marcy’s going home!

I can’t wait to tell Logan!

I move to Marcy’s doorway and watch her sleeping peacefully. Helen isn’t here tonight, and I want so badly to hug that little girl and tell her she’s almost made it. Just a little longer. But it’s not my news to deliver. Instead, I pull her dolphin blanket up over her shoulder where it had fallen down, and place my palm over the bandana on her head.

While I’m having my moment, Romella sticks her head in the doorway and whispers, “Dr. Chase, can you help me for a minute?”

With one last glance at Marcy, I follow Romella into the hallway.

“Of course. What’s up?” I ask.

“I know you’re not rotating on this service right now, but I need to administer IV medication to a patient, and he’s pulled the IV out three times already. No family is here, and my other nurse is on break.”

Consoling kids who are sick and scared is hard to do. Especially when they see new faces every day, and every time someone interacts with them, they get poked, prodded, or pumped full of medication.