Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Melissa
Three weeks in the oncology department, and I’m finally starting to feel like I’m finding my footing. It’s a much slower environment than the trauma department. I knew that going in. It’s taken some time to adapt.
It has actually been a lot easier on my nervous system to slow it down.
I found it hard to get to sleep after my shifts in the trauma department.
Here, I’m finally able to settle in and get the sleep I need, which helps when I need to put in my nighttime shift.
I only need to work one a month, but being able to adjust my sleep easily makes all the difference.
I walk into the room to see my next patient. Mr. Adler has had a rough week, but he seems to be in much better spirits. I tell him I need to check his line, and he shifts himself higher up onto his pillow with no complaints.
After I clean the area and grab the syringe, I pop the cap off.
“ … and she hit the ball clean over second base,” he says proudly of his granddaughter.
“That’s impressive,” I tell him, checking the line for resistance. “Sounds like she’s got a strong swing.”
I’m focused on my hands when the air in the room changes.
It’s subtle—nothing I can quite point to, but enough that I pause for half a second before continuing. The sense of not being alone in the space anymore.
“Good morning,” a familiar voice says from behind me.
I glance up.
Dr. Fisher stands inside the doorway, chart in hand, expression neutral as his eyes move briefly from me to the patient. Was he staring at me?
“Morning,” I reply automatically, stepping aside to give him room.
He nods once more and moves closer. “How are you feeling today?” he asks Mr. Adler. His tone is calm, professional. The same as always.
I finish what I’m doing and step back, staying quiet while he does his assessment. I tell myself that’s all it is—that I’m simply waiting my turn.
Still, I’m aware of him in a way I haven’t been before.
I glance up once, more out of instinct than intention.
His attention is on the chart. Of course it is. I must’ve imagined it being on me.
When he finishes and gives Mr. Adler a brief explanation of the plan for the day, he turns to me.
“Let me know if his pain changes,” he says to me.
“I will,” I answer.
Our eyes meet for a moment, barely long enough to count as anything. Then he’s gone.
The room feels quiet after he leaves.
I exhale slowly, more aware of my own body than I was a moment ago. My posture. My hands. The way my shoulders are held a little too tight.
That’s strange.
I finish up with Mr. Adler, exchange a few more words, and step out into the hall, shaking the feeling off as I go.
Hours later, I’m standing outside of a patient’s room, looking down at my tablet, when I feel it again. That strange sensation throughout my body.
This time, I know before I look up.
My suspicions are confirmed when my eyes meet Dr. Fisher’s. He is talking to Samantha—our resident doctor—but his eyes are on me. The moment they meet mine, he looks away quickly.
I pull myself back to my screen, feeling like I was caught. Doing what … I don’t know.
I walk over to the nurses’ station to finish charting my patient. Latoya—another nurse in the department—appears by my side minutes later as I’m leaning against the counter.
“Hey, girl. How’s it going?” she asks as she reaches over the counter for her water.
“It’s going great. I’m really starting to find my footing. I’ll have my chemo certification next week.”
“Trudy said you were a rock star. I see what she was talking about.”
I’m the worst at accepting compliments. Instead of saying thank you like a normal person, I feel my cheeks redden, and I stand in silence.
She continues—thank God— “Are you going to the charity event next month?”
“Oh, Trudy told me about it. I’m not sure I have anything to wear.”
She offers a wide smile. “Girl, you live in New York City. There are plenty of stores that can solve that little dilemma.”
I try to suppress my giggle. “I know. I know. I suppose I’m a little nervous about attending. I don’t know many people.”
“Well, I’ll be there. Trudy will.” She looks over at our unit secretary. “Megan, are you going to the charity event next month?”
Megan smiles. “I am. My husband is staying home with the kids, so I’ll be solo this year.”
“Aha. Even better. Girls’ night out. Now you have to come,” Latoya demands.
“Okay,” I reply. “You’ve convinced me.”
She claps her hands. “Yay! I can’t wait.” Then she grabs her tablet. “Okay, back to my rounds.”
I laugh to myself as I get back to charting.
The hair on my skin begins to take notice. It’s him.
I see his arms rest on the counter directly next to me.
“Did you add to 452’s chart that she is experiencing progressive pain?”
“I was about to do that. Her current dose doesn’t seem to be keeping her comfortable.”
I try not to look as he swipes the screen of his tablet. His sleeves are rolled up, a detail I notice he does when he’s flustered. But now I can see the veins in his arms strain as he moves. It’s distracting.
“I’m putting in an order to add another medication. Alternate every four hours. This should improve her comfort. Let me know if she’s still in pain.”
“Got it. I’ll get right on it.”
He nods once, already stepping back, his gaze flicking over me in a way that makes my skin tighten.
I stare down at the chart in front of me, suddenly aware that I’ve been holding my breath.
That was nothing, I tell myself. Just a long day.
Still, when I return to my work, I have to read the same line twice before it makes sense.