Chapter VIOLET
The next day…
"This is weird," I mumble as I check through the medicine history, like I do every morning when I arrive. Luciano and I have a little routine going. He hands me my coffee, sometimes accompanied by a donut, and complains about the night nurse, while I catch up on the notes she left during her shift.
"What?" Luciano is instantly alert.
"This order," I say, staring at the name of the medication and the dosage.
"What?" Luciano repeats, pushing me out of the way. He stares at the monitor, which he has no right to, and which violates every known HIPAA rule, but I pretend I don't notice. Instead, I point at the medication.
"What am I looking at?"
"This is Marcello's normal saline order," I say, pointing at it. "The dosage is set to one point five liters, because of his brain swelling, but a few hours ago, Doctor Waspo ordered to have it doubled, that's—"
A sudden high-pitched alarm from Marcello's monitors interrupts me.
"What's happening?" Luciano yells, pulling his gun.
I rush over to Marcello's side, stop the saline IV, and stare at his vitals. "He's going into cardiac arrest," I yell, and then, a bit calmer, "You know guns are not allowed in here."
"Do something," Luciano stares from me to Marcello, whose body is bathed in sweat and shaking.
"Mannitol," I mumble, that would counteract the overdose of liquid given to him.
"Status?" Doctor Waspo appears, putting on gloves.
"The patient's saline dose was too high; it's aggravating his brain swelling, we need—"
"Give him 40 mEq of potassium chloride," Waspo barks.
Speechless, I stare at him. "That will kill him, he's already—"
"Funny, I don't recall seeing doctor in front of your name badge, Nurse Violet," Waspo snarks, staring me down.
"What is it?" Luciano stares at me.
"What he is ordering… it will kill Marcello," I say, still in disbelief.
"She's not a doctor, I am," Waspo asserts again in a scratchy voice, staring me down. He's wearing a high-collar shirt, but it can't hide all the bruising on his throat from a few days ago.
"What do you need, doctor?" Sally, another nurse, enters.
"40 mEq of potassium chloride," Waspo orders.
"Violet?" Luciano looks at me. Sweat runs down my back, but I stand my ground, shaking my head.
"It'll kill him."
Luciano points the gun at the other nurse, "Get whatever she needs."
Sally squeals but keeps her composure.
"Mannitol," I say, ignoring the hammering of my heart. I have contradicted doctors' orders before, but not in a life-or-death situation like this. And Waspo is right about one thing. I'm not a doctor. But I have been an ICU nurse for long enough to be sure that his orders will kill Marcello.
Sally comes back, holding up both a bag of Mannitol and a vial of potassium chloride. Luciano lifts the gun, holds it straight against Waspo's forehead. "What's it gonna be, doctor? The moment my boss dies, you'll find your brains splattered all over his dead body."
Waspo's hands shake as he points at the Mannitol. I rip it out of Sally's hands and hang the bag, attaching it to his already open IV line and setting the drip faster than I normally would.
"Order a blood draw to monitor his electrolytes and kidneys," Waspo instructs in a toneless voice.
"You were trying to kill my boss," Luciano states, still keeping the barrel pointed at Waspo's forehead.
"I'm calling security," Sally says, but doesn't move.
"My bullet is faster than your legs, lady," Luciano snarls, not taking his eyes off Waspo. "Who ordered you, and how much are they paying?" Luciano questions him.
I reset the monitors. Marcello's heart is still racing.
His blood pressure is too high, but at least it's not moving any higher.
Gently, I squeeze his shoulder, not that my own racing heart would have a calming effect on him.
At this point, the contact is more for my benefit than his. I need to feel that he's alive.
"A man… he approached me in the parking lot…" Waspo presses out. His face is white as the sheets now and bathed in sweat. "Please. He threatened to kill my family."
"If anybody approaches you again, you will tell me, understand?" Luciano presses the gun a little harder against Waspo's forehead.
"Y… yes." Waspo eagerly nods.
Luciano whips the gun across the doctor's face, breaking his skin by the side of his eye and lip. Waspo winces, but the relief that Luciano hasn't shot him wins out.
"Thank you. Thank you."
Luciano scorches him with his glare, and I can read the death sentence in his eyes. He only gave Waspo a reprieve, not a pardon. I don't think Waspo realizes that, and I don't know what to do with this information.
Should I go to the police? My own family pops back into my mind.
I remember how I felt the first time Luciano threatened me, how intimidating he had been, and it all comes flooding back.
No matter how much I fool myself into thinking of Luciano as a friend, he is and always will be a coldhearted killer, and I will be better off never to forget that.
He would do anything for Marcello. Including killing people. Me. My family.
I place my palm over Marcello's erratically beating heart and can't stop the anger rushing up inside me. My stomach fills with fury directed at Waspo. He was going to kill Marcello. To protect his family.
My heart picks up Marcello's erratic rhythm. What would I have done in Waspo's place? What would I have done if someone had threatened my family? Them or Marcello?
The answer comes quickly and surprises me: I would have gone to Luciano.
I don't like this idea. At all. I didn't even consider going to the police. What kind of person does this make me?
I don't want to think about it anymore, so I do what I do best: I try to reassure my patient. "It's okay, everything will be okay. Luciano and I won't let anything happen to you." I whisper my promise, very aware of the heat of his flesh pressing against my palm—something I shouldn't notice at all.
Slowly, Marcello's heart rate calms down, his blood pressure following closely behind.