Chapter 5
Cameron
After responding to the emergency call (a kid having heart palpitations from drinking too many energy drinks as a dare during a Halloween party– fucking Halloween I swear–) I popped into the free-clinic just to remind myself why I am fighting so hard. And I’m glad I did.
As it would turn out, my services were needed there too, in the form of a little guy with CF needing some antibiotics to fight off a lingering cough and possible fever (no minor thing for a CF kid).
His mom was worth the pit stop too. Dressed as a nurse (costume-esque, not the real thing.
A perk of the current holiday), she was a fiery thing that brought a much needed smile to my face.
What she doesn’t know, as she marches away, her glorious ass swaying with each sassy step, is that I am the head of the pediatric floor and I’ve already paged the head nurse on staff.
There’s a nurse and a hulk headed your way. Get them a private room and let them know they’ll be seen asap.
I make a point of comforting a few patients in the clinic waiting room because it’s what my father would have done.
Everyone is cranky but they have every right to be.
It’s a holiday– nobody wants to be in the hospital when they could be out running around corn mazes or trick or treating or doing spooky bar crawls.
I meet at the nurses’ desk on the pediatric floor where Sarah, the nurse I paged, greets me.
“You said she was dressed like a nurse. You didn’t say she was hello nurse,” Sarah teases me and a few other nurses chuckle.
“I figured you’d know her when you saw her,” I say, grabbing a tablet to check my patient line up for the evening.
It’s going to be a long night. “I fucking hate Halloween,” I mutter as I scroll through the never ending list. Meanwhile, the call lights are flashing like Christmas tree lights and the nurses are running around like headless chickens.
“It’s the moon, doc,” Sarah says, going through the computer. As head nurse, she is in charge of everyone else, organizing the chaos the best she can. I wouldn’t trade her jobs.
“Yeah, I don’t believe in that zodiac nonsense,” I say as I scroll down the list. I swear it’s a mile long and while I normally am okay with that, the conversation I just had with the legal team and Josh has me wanting to just call it a night already.
“It’s not nonsense. It’s science,” she insists.
“People acting loony because of the full moon is not science. It’s an excuse.”
“She’s right,” Trevyn, my colleague and closest friend here at the hospital, appears out of nowhere. “You ever noticed how busy labor and delivery is when the moon is full?”
“Jesus Christ. Not you too,” I sigh, checking my phone before I dive into the thicket.
“It is what it is,” he shakes his head then smiles.
“And what it is is ignorance. There’s no room for superstition in medicine,” I say, rounding to the outside of the half moon shaped circulation desk.
“There’s also no room for lounging around.
Don’t you have somewhere to be?” My words are brimmed in a tone but he knows me well enough to know I’m just being a jerk for the sake of being a jerk. And to have the last word.
But I meant what I said. I don’t believe in things like full moons affecting our bodies. Biology doesn’t work that way. Unfortunately, I know better than anyone that medical conditions and diagnosis’ work in absolutes.
I can hear the woman talking softly to the boy as I approach the cracked door of the room. Her tone is soft, much softer than it was when she was spitting fire in the free-clinic. Softer than I knew she was capable of.
“They have Bluey. You want to watch Bluey?”
“I want to go trick or treating,” he whines.
“Well, we might have to wait on that, bud. You’re pretty sick.”
“I’m always sick, mommy. Why does it matter?”
“Let’s see if they have a Halloween special on. Maybe Curious George.”
“Knock, knock,” I call out before opening the door the rest of the way.
“Oh thank god. We were told to come here by–” she stops, the entirety of her body slouching when she sees me. “You.”
“And look how good you are at following instructions,” I smile at Noah who is laying on the bed. The poor little guy’s cheeks are flushed, his breathing is hoarse even with the oxygen the nurse already hooked up and he is very lacking in the Halloween spirit.
“Can we just cut the antics and get to the meds please?” she snaps, tugging at her costume self consciously. Not that she has any reason to feel that way. She looks gorgeous in it, all hips and tits and thick as honey curves.
I keep my eyes on Noah for the obvious reasons. The problem with scrubs is the material is very thin and leaves little to the imagination.
“I’ve already ordered a ten day round of amoxicillin. His chart says that’s been used in the past so we will roll with that. But I also want to do a thorough check up as well.”
“He has already had one recently,” she cuts in as I check his vitals again.
“With a flare up, we can never be too careful.
“You think I don’t know that?” she snaps.
“I’d like to see a CAT scan of his lungs,” I say, typing it into the tablet.
“Is it that bad?” I can hear the familiar panic in her voice. I hear it all the time in the parents of CF kids.
“It’s good to know exactly where he’s at,” I tell her.
“So I don’t get to go trick or treating?” Noah’s eyes are sleepy as he asks the question.
“ ‘fraid not buddy. But I bet we have some ice cream in the cafeteria. If you lay real still while they take pictures of your lungs, I’ll have the nurse bring you some. How’s that sound?”
“Mommy, can I have ice cream?” Noah asks.
“We were only supposed to need meds,” she says, covering her face with her hands.
“A sundae,” I answer for her, giving him a wink. Then I cover him in a warm blanket and place my hand on her shoulder.
“Can we talk in the hall, Mrs. Underwood?”
“It’s Miss,” she corrects me very quickly.
Noted.
Once we are outside, I turn to her. For the first time, I see her face up close. Her dark, long wavy hair frames a heart shaped face. Olive skin and sapphire eyes. She’s gorgeous. And vaguely familiar.
“I can’t afford a CAT scan,” she says but I shake my head gently.
“I meant what I said, we can figure that all out. But he needs one. His lungs are rough, Miss Underwood.”
“I know they are,” she snaps but it’s not at me. It’s at the fact that her little boy is very sick and most likely always has been. “They’re failing him. Which makes me feel like I’m failing him. Do you have any idea how much medical debt I have?”
“I can imagine,” I say.
“Can you though? You’re a doctor. You’re on the receiving end of all of this. Meanwhile, I work my ass off to provide for him with no help and he’s not getting any better. He’ll never get any better.” She sits down in a chair against the wall and I sit down next to her.
“I’m going to tell you like it is, Riley? Can I call you Riley? The scan is for the records. But I know what his lungs look like. I can hear it.”
“Are you an expert?” she snaps.
“I am a pulmonologist. CF care is my specialty actually. So yes, I am an expert. And that little boy needs new lungs.”
She sucks in a sharp breath. But she’s not crying. If I had to guess, this woman learned a long time ago how to stop crying. She opens her mouth to say something when Noah calls out.
“Mommy? Mommy where did you go?”
Riley makes her way back in the room and I follow. He’s coughing and she helps him sit up. I join her on the other side of the bed and press my stethoscope to his chest.
“What’s it sound like?” Noah asks.
“Kind of like a dragon,” I say. Riley is not amused but Noah smiles.
“Really? Can I listen?”
“Of course.” I place the eartips in his ears and press the bell to his chest. Noah’s eyes light up.
“Whoa. Mommy, you gotta listen to this!”
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve heard your lungs before.”
“But it’s cool,” he says and her smile tightens.
“I think Dr. Reinhart–” she starts in and I cut her off.
“Cameron.”
“What?” she snaps.
“You can call me Cameron.”
“How informal…”
I take the stethoscope off and put it back around my neck as the nurses come in to wheel him off.
“Remember,” I tell him. “A sundae. With all the flavors.”
“Yes! And sprinkles!”
“Absolutely. I’ll put it in the tablet now,” I say, pretending to type. “One large sundae, all the flavors and sprinkles too.”
“He’s the best doctor ever, mommy! We should always see him,” Noah says as he goes out the door.
I smile, checking on the next patient I need to see. I’ve already spent more time in this room than I should have but I also try not to be one of those doctors that rushes things. Especially for patients like Noah.
“Why the first name?” Riley asks. “It feels suggestive.”
“Suggestive of what?” I ask, looking her over before looking at her eyes and then back at the tablet.
“You’re crossing a thin line, Dr. Reinhart,” she says, her tone low.
“Dr. Reinhart is my father. That’s why I don’t go by that. I’m not worthy of that name yet, not in my home and not in the medical world. Also, you’re the one crossing the lines. That outfit is hardly nurse protocol.”
Riley lets out a disgusted sigh. “Unbelievable. My kid is sick and you’re flirting with me.”
I arch an eyebrow, though my eyes are still on my tablet. Again, I’m playing it safe here.
“I am hardly doing any such thing,” I disagree.
“Oh really?”
After a beat, I hold the tablet to my side. “Really. If I was flirting with you, you’d know it. You also would have given me your number by now too.”
With that, she cackles. “Oh you think so?”
“I do,” I say, matching her smirk. “But since I’m not flirting, you don’t have to worry about that,” I say before heading for the door.
“Well, good,” she calls out, her words stumbling over her tongue. “Because I would never give you my number.”
“Good,” I say. “It would be very unprofessional. Even if you are a nurse.” I toss a grin back over my shoulder then duck into the next room before she can strangle me with my own stethoscope.