Doctor's Orders

6. Multiple Personalities

During my next shift, I had to work hard to act like everything was normal between Dr. Styles and me. Well, okay, it was normal, but since that night at the bar, in my head it had been anything but normal. I'd daydreamed a little too often, imagining romance blossoming between us. Once I fell back into the routine of work, however, it wasn't hard to forget the butterflies from that night.

Kane was the Patient Care Tech for most my patients this shift, so we were able to interact a lot. I was really beginning to enjoy the teams with whom I usually worked. Bridget and Lynda often worked the same shifts as me as well, and a middle-aged man named Markus was another regular PCT who worked with us. We moved together like a well-oiled machine, and I felt I was at my best when they were my team-mates.

The highest point of my shift was when Faye, the charge nurse, pulled me aside and told me I'd had a number of positive patient reviews. I felt higher than a kite until Dr. Styles dragged me down a little; well, maybe a lot.

Everything seemed to be going perfectly, except anything that involved Dr. Styles. He was more critical than usual, and if I wasn't mistaken, his corrections were directed mostly towards me. What he'd told me at the bar - that I was "quite good" - was a load of crap, apparently. Maybe he had been drunk and just trying to get me in bed, or playing hard to get by walking away. No, that didn't make sense because he gave me a ride home and he could certainly have made his move then. And he had seemed sober enough. But then, what could have been his purpose in telling me that I was good besides merely blowing sunshine up my ass? 

About half-way through my shift, I called him with a question about my only patient with a heart problem. In the busyness of the day, I failed to remember that he would likely have other heart patients that weren't under my care. "Dr. Styles, I have a few concerns about the heart patient in Room 9," I began. 

"Ms. Jansen!" He snapped, and I could practically hear the look of irritation on his face. "I have seven heart patients at the moment. You will have to be more specific."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, I-"

"It's a waste of my time when you call me and you're unprepared!" He interrupted me harshly. "Don't call me again until-"

This time I interrupted him. "David Carson, male, 56, no previous heart conditions." I'd be damned if I was going to look like I was unprepared. I just hadn't spoken quickly enough. And I wasn't hanging up til I had an answer from the doctor. "He's extremely agitated, very nervous about what's going on. He asked to speak with you at your earliest convenience. Maybe some anxiety medication would be in order?" I hoped he wouldn't blow up at that final suggestion.

All he said was, "Fine," and then he hung up.

Well, that was pleasant, I thought. Why the hell was he treating me so harshly? I was still on my game, even though I hadn't worded my request just right in the beginning. Sometimes I felt like he just had it out for me and he was ready to jump at me at every turn.