30. Chase
Chase
Less than five minutes after I get off the phone with Logan, I get a call from Kendra. I briefly think about not answering, but I don’t want Logan to have to deal with the fallout.
“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.
When we turn the corner into the boy’s room, I see a familiar face.
“Hey, Jamal,” I say, but he can’t hear me over his cries. My throat constricts. I hate to see that he’s still here. Like Marcy, he was here during my observational rotation as well.
“Hey, my man,” I say, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.
Finally, wide, tearful eyes look up at me. I give him a smile and tug on the sleeve of his Marvel pajamas.
“These are pretty awesome. Do you think they make these in my size?” I ask, trying to distract him and talk about something other than his pain, his diagnosis, or this hospital.
Jamal shrugs, but he’s stopped crying. On his bedside table, there’s a Marvel comic, and I pick it up as Romella moves about the room.
She understands that caring for kids requires a different kind of finesse.
You have to become human with them. You have to be able to laugh and smile and put them at ease.
“Oh man, I haven’t read this one. Is it any good?” I ask, flipping through the pages.
Jamal nods and reaches for the comic, finally coming out of his shell a little.
“The best part is back here,” he says, using chubby little fingers to navigate through the comic book.
We spend another three to four minutes talking about his favorite scene before Romella gives me a meaningful look over his shoulder.
“Hey, Jamal, do you know my friend Romella?” I ask as she comes to stand in front of him.
He nods, but stays quiet.
“She’s really good at helping people feel better, and she’s got a superpower just like the characters in this book.”
This gets his attention.
“She does?” he asks.
“Yep. She can get that IV in without you feeling a thing.”
The crazy part is, I’m not lying. Romella has tricks up her sleeve that only years of experience can give, and I’ve heard from several kids that they didn’t even feel the needle pierce their skin.
“I don’t believe you,” Jamal fires warily.
“It’s true!” I say, raising my voice an octave so it squeaks, making Jamal laugh. “I’ll tell you what. How about you close your eyes, and I’ll hold your other hand? When you think it’s going in, you squeeze. If you’re right, I’ll get you extra chocolate pudding and a soda.”
I make the unhealthy offer because Jamal’s diagnosis has nothing to do with his sugar intake. His kidneys are fine.
“This is going to be so easy to win,” he says confidently.
“We’ll see about that,” I tease. “Now, close your eyes.”
“I have to cast my spell first,” Romella says, her accent making her sound as magical as we’re trying to convince Jamal she is. “And you’ll feel me moving the skin on your hand to numb it with my magic, okay?” she explains.
Jamal nods, his hand resting in mine.
I watch as Romella very gently pinches the skin on the back of his little hand repeatedly as she mutters something in her native tongue. It’s a beautiful language, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s actually saying.
In an instant, she’s got a vein caught between his pinched skin, and she’s sliding the IV in. Her voice never changes cadence as she pulls the needle out once the catheter is placed and blood flashback is observed, noting perfect placement.
Jamal never squeezes my hand.
Just to give appearances, Romella lightly pinches his hand a few more times before she says, “All done.”
Jamal opens his eyes and looks down.
“No way! How’d you do that?”
Romella just wags her eyebrows at him while I lean down and whisper, “I told you. She’s magic.” But then I remember Romella had said he’s already pulled this IV out a couple of times, so I explain why it needs to stay in.
When I stand to leave, I give Jamal a fist bump and tell him to let me know if he hears about those pjs being made in adult sizes. He snorts and shakes his head, making me smile.
As I’m rewashing my hands at the sink, Romella knocks her hip into mine.
“Can I ask you something?”
I nod, already knowing what she’s going to ask me.
“Why are you doing trauma surgery when you are so clearly a perfect fit for pediatrics? Your heart is on this floor, Dr. Chase. I can see it in you.”
I can’t tell her the embarrassing truth, so without making eye contact, I feed her the well-rehearsed lie.
“Because then they would go from being kids to being my job, and I would have to look at them differently.”
“I don’t think that’s true at all. It’s the way you look at them that would make you the best doctor for them.”
If I was trying to stall, I was very successful. It’s one a.m. when I finally enter the condo. A hint of vanilla lingers in the air, and it’s odd to me that I don’t like the way it covers up the normal smells of this place.
My body is ready to sleep like the dead, but my mind is racing, replaying Romella’s words over and over.
“Chase?” Logan whispers from the living room where he’s sitting on the couch in joggers and nothing else.
“My bad, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I tell him, dropping my shit quietly onto the barstool like usual.
“You didn’t. I’m still on nights, remember? You hungry?”
“I could eat.”
In reality, I can’t remember the last time I ingested calories, and my stomach grumbles loudly as a reminder.
Logan looks at me as he stands.
“Why don’t you go grab a shower, and I’ll heat up some dinner for you.”
I want to hug him. I want to tell him about Marcy’s good news and about my night with Jamal. I’m hungry for more than just food, but Logan and I just got back to normal. He can’t fulfill my need for physical touch right now, and that kills me.
Your girlfriend is in your room, dummy, I think to myself. Yet somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better.
“Hey, you okay?” Logan asks.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Yeah, just tired and hungry and processing my day.”
“Go wash up. Dinner will be ready in five.”
I hold my breath as I enter my room, careful not to wake Kendra. She’s on her side, facing me, the features I know so well slack and relaxed. She’s wearing one of my shirts, and her blonde hair is fanned out behind her.
As I make my way to my dresser to grab clean boxers and a pair of sweats, I trip over something in the middle of the floor.
“Shit!” I yell in a whisper, pissed when I realize the metal handle of Kendra’s rolling suitcase is fully extended across my path.
“Chase?” a sleepy voice says.
Fucking great.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m just going to grab a quick shower, and then I’ll come to bed,” I tell her, hoping that’s enough to satisfy her in this twilight stage, but no luck.
“I’ve waited all day to see you. I could shower with you?” she says, sitting up.
“I’ll only be a minute, and that shower’s not really big enough for both of us,” I point out, making Kendra waste no time giving me her honest thoughts.
“This whole place is barely big enough for two people.”
“Really, Ken?” I ask, too tired to mask my frustration.
My tone has her crawling out from under the covers and moving toward me. I’d be seriously concerned about the lack of a response stirring between my legs if I wasn’t so damn tired. But anything outside of sleep and calories is no longer deemed essential for survival.
When she reaches the edge of the bed, she climbs off and stands in front of me on her tiptoes, placing her arms around my neck.
Kendra is so small, I can grip my elbows with my opposite hands when I hug her. People often comment on the size difference between us. I used to like it, but now, it just feels like I’m going to break her.
“I’ve missed you,” she mumbles against my chest, and I force myself to take a deep breath.
Only it gets caught on the way in, making the inhale shallow.
“I’ve missed you, too. I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for making the trip.” It sounds robotic even to my ears.
I stand in her embrace for what feels like ten minutes before the pull to the shower overrides everything.
“Why don’t you get back into bed? I’ll only be a few minutes. A quick shower and an even quicker bite to eat, and then I’ll be ready.”
“I want to hear about your day,” she argues with a yawn. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”
Will this day never end?