CHAPTER 5 FRIENDS #2
“A few punches are fine, but TJ has gotten out of hand a few times. His first year in the league almost knocked him down to the minors for how much fighting he engaged in.”
“Wow.” My eyes flickered to the screen as the TV zoomed in on TJ.
He was a pretty attractive man, especially his eyes.
The one spot of brown in his left eye was weirdly mesmerizing.
The last thing I needed was a relationship.
There were far too many items on my plate as it was, and I had a bad habit of biting off more than I could fully chew.
Davis slowly shook his head. “You alright?”
“I come from a football family. Fights aren’t common.”
“Fair enough.” He laughed. “What are you thinking?”
My cheeks flamed red. “Nothing.”
He poked my red cheek. “You crushing on my friend?”
“Uh, no.” I scoffed. “He is handsome, though.”
“Yeah, probably by most women’s standards. Don’t pursue that though, Aife. He needs to repair himself before he even attempts dating again. That man is just a heartache waiting to happen.”
My brow furrowed at that. What exactly did that mean? Why did I even care? TJ was a stranger to me. My focus had to be on my schoolwork, not men.
Monday hit me like a freight train. From the moment my alarm went off, I knew today was going to be a struggle.
Whether it was due to the weather outside or the dreams my mind plagued me with was unclear.
All weekend, my brain decided to provide me with extremely realistic dreams of TJ’s eyes…
and well, the rest of him. For some reason, I couldn’t get him out of my head, and it was driving me a little insane.
Thankfully, work would be a blessed distraction.
There was a complicated case on neuro ICU that I knew would take up most of my day.
It was one of my favorite things about work: being able to put my focus on finding solutions.
It was one of my skills, and I prided myself on my ability to thrive in chaos and also find solutions.
It was probably part of the reason I was so drawn to the neurology department.
My case manager and I were the only pair that worked on two floors: neuro ICU and neuro acute (medical/surgery neurology).
We were also apparently the only two crazy enough to like neuro and even want to work on it.
Settling in at my cubicle, I took a moment to center myself.
After all my medical trauma, I had to get into therapy.
While there, I learned grounding techniques.
I made sure to implement them throughout my day.
The first thing I did after starting my computer every day was to do a body scan to check on the parts of myself that needed extra attention that day.
It took maybe two minutes and then I was able to take down my notes for my patients.
“Good morning!” My partner, Julia, strolled in. She had long, blonde hair that she constantly wore in a bun. “Let’s take today by storm!” Julia’s positive attitude was what I loved most about her.
“Hi, Julia. Who’s our neurologist today?”
There were five rotating neurologists who changed every Sunday.
Two actually spoke to case management, and the other three barely acknowledged us.
That wasn’t to say the other three were bad, but the weeks Dr. Bowie and Dr. Tims worked were our favorites. There was less antagonism.
“I think it’s Dr. Bowie, but I never know. Did you hear two Warhammers players are coming onto the ICU units today?”
I narrowed my eyes. “A little redundant to say,
‘ICU units.’ Where’d you hear that?”
“Our director just emailed everyone. The two players will be visiting medical ICU, surgical ICU, and neuro ICU. They’ll be here for about three or so hours. Apparently it’s one of the things the team does to give back to the community. She only emailed us and Carol and Tina.
I guess they want it on the down low.”
“Makes sense.” I continued to scribble notes on our patients, writing down important overnight events.
“Hopefully, they are relatively well known and not some fourth shift guys.”
“Does everyone know hockey in this city?” I asked,
my brows furrowing. I put my pen down and looked at my work partner.
Julia looked at me incredulously. “Girl, hockey is important in the north. Not everyone is super invested, but we know certain players. How can you be so nonchalant about this?”
Shrugging, I pulled out my highlighters. “Hockey means nothing to me. I’m Texas, born and bred. Football is in my blood. If you said JJ Watt was here, I’d be screaming my head off. The only hockey player I’ve ever heard of is Wayne Gretzsky.”
Julia shook her head. “Well, I’m dragging you to meet them.”
“Fine. Can we at least focus on our discharge planning for now?”
“I don’t know how you expect me to focus, but I’ll try.” Julia laughed and sipped on her coffee as we each took notes for the floor.
Before I knew it, we were headed up to multidisciplinary discussion rounds (MDDR).
It was where the floor nurses discussed the patients while the doctors, nutritionists, therapists (physical, occupational, and speech), and case management added their input.
Usually, case management elected to stay silent unless we had a need to speak.
Julia and I took the elevator to the fourth floor.
Rounds started early in neuro ICU because they typically lasted so long.
By the time we finished on four, we would have to sprint up to six for neuro acute rounds.
We practically rounded half our day. Sometimes, this made discharge planning difficult.
It was also probably one of the reasons we had a longer than average length of stay.
That and the fact we were a comprehensive stroke unit.
Insurance gave these patients three or four days when they often needed seven or more and then got mad when they were here for longer than their average.
It was baffling and definitely an aspect of the medical world I wanted to overhaul.
We strolled into the unit, clipboards in hand and determination on our faces.
I loved neuro and I felt a connection to the floor.
It was almost like I was destined to be there.
Also, for some reason, everyone but Julia and I hated neuro.
Sure, the patients were a little tougher, but that’s what made it fun.
Dr. Bowie nodded at both of us as we gathered by the first room.
Julia and I liked to divide the floor. I took the front; she took the back.
On days Dr. Bowie worked, we never knew where he would choose for rounds to start.
It was always a mystery. Bowie was incredibly intelligent and clearly loved his job.
He was good at identifying 69 medical barriers and listened to the other disciplines.
He could be tough and direct, but he was definitely a doctor you wanted on your team.
Too bad we had to rotate neurologists every week.
“We will be having two professional athletes joining neuro today. They have been asked not to come until after rounds for patient privacy. When they arrive, please remember, we are a hospital. Continue to do your jobs,” Dr. Bowie said, looking each of us in the eye.
“Chrissy, please start with our patient in 443.”
Since Bowie had decided to start backwards, I headed off to complete some tasks I needed to.
My mornings usually consisted of discharge planning assessments (DPAs), securing placement choices, contacting facilities to follow up on bed availability, and making ambulance packets.
Today, I only had two DPAs on the fourth floor, but I had to “go choice” three rooms.
Choicing usually took up the most time because I had to explain the difference in facilities and answer patient and family questions.
Quickly, I printed off some lists for facilities and face sheets for my DPAs. I arranged my papers and decided on doing my DPAs first. They were quick and relatively easy. Inputting the notes for them, though, took the absolute longest time. It truly made no sense.
Knocking on a room, I entered while scrubbing sanitizer into my hands. “Hello, Mr. Porter?”
The young, dark-haired man smiled at me. “Good morning, Miss Aife.” He’d had a stroke from unregulated hypertension. He was lucky to be alive and getting somewhat back to normal.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Better than yesterday.” Mr. Porter smiled again.
“Wonderful.” I smiled back. “I’ve come to talk to you about inpatient rehab or IPR as you might hear it. Essentially, it’s three hours of therapy spread throughout the day in an inpatient setting. You’ll have doctors, nurses, therapists, and social workers just like here.
The only difference is they specialize in therapy to help get you back to your normal baseline. There are two companies with different locations throughout the city.
One is through our hospital and is called GIRR which stands for Greater Institute Rehabilitation and Research and the other is called Focus.”
I handed him two lists with several location sites and my work number. “Any questions?”
“How soon do you need a decision?”
“Really the sooner the better. Insurance always takes the longest piece out of everything. The sooner I can submit your information to the facilities, the sooner we can get you out of here.”
Mr. Porter nodded and pulled the lists to him. “You got it, Aife.”
The rest of my morning passed in a similar fashion and before I knew it, it was lunch time. There were still a few things I had to do on the ICU, so I took the stairs down. As I entered the unit, I bumped into a very hard chest. “Oomph.”
Arms settled around my back and waist to steady me. “Sorry.” His voice was deep and slightly raspy, with a twinge of an accent to it. “I guess I didn’t expect anyone to come barreling down the stairs.”
I stepped out of his arms and looked into his beautiful blue eyes. “TJ?”
“Hello, Aife.” He sounded a little confused. “What are you doing here?” Sweat peppered his forehead. Strange given how cold hospitals were.
“I work here,” I said, pointing at my badge. I took a moment to look at him, somehow always finding myself starting at his thighs. “Are you and Zeke our mystery hockey players?”
He nodded while taking me in. “We just finished spending some time with the ICU patients on the surgical unit. We’ll be here the rest of the afternoon.”
That was the most I’d heard him say in the few times I’d met him.
TJ didn’t really strike me as the talkative type.