Despite It All

Chapter 24

This is not okay.

I stare at today's assignment sheet, annoyance festering within.

"I'm sorry, Laur. I know, it sucks. I told him we needed another nurse but he told me to make it work without any extra help," Brian—last night's Charge Nurse—apologizes.

I shake my head, knowing it's not his fault. "I'm not mad at you, but seriously? Two stem cell transplant patients, an induction chemotherapy, and a trach? The two transplants both have chemotherapy at the same time. And isn't this trach patient the one with all of the social issues? I'm just one person. How am I supposed to be in two places at once? This isn't safe."

Brian nods, knowingly. "I know, Laur. I told him. He said you can handle it."

His words only work to annoy me further. I may be able to handle it, but I shouldn't have to.

"Is he here?"

"Yeah, I just saw him walk back into the office."

I set down my work bag and gather the assignment sheet, ready to head towards the manager's office. He may be the manager, but he certainly doesn't always know best. I don't care about budget or productivity, or about whatever other unit of measurement is utilized to determine our floor's worth. As an institution, we outwardly pride ourselves on the delivery of safe and effective care—claiming it is our number one priority. If that were true, we would be staffed with an extra nurse today instead of trying to spread us out as thinly as possible in an attempt to save money.

"You're going to go talk to him?" Brian asks.

I nod and take off, already fuming.

A quick walk down the animated, painted halls of the unit leads me to an open door where Ken, our unit manager, sits.

A firm knock.

Ken's salt-and-pepper hair is neatly gelled back, purposefully hiding spots that are beginning to thin. His light blue dress shirt appears to be just a touch too small for his large frame, and despite its strain to cover his midsection, wrinkles are still tainting his attempts at a put-together look. A dark blue tie hugs him tightly under his shirt's collar, hanging down and resting against his khakis as he leans forward upon his desk. His brows are furrowed, engulfed in whatever asinine email or task he's evaluating on his computer. My knock disturbs his concentration, and although a thin smile graces his face, it doesn't reach his eyes. He visibly tenses before ushering me in. This should go well.

"Lauren! What can I do for you?" His voice is raspy in a I-smoke-a-pack-a-day kind of way, and it rustles me in all the wrong ways.

I slowly enter his office and take a seat across from him. "Hey Ken. I need to talk to you about staffing and this assignment today. It's not safe. How was this determined to be okay?"

He reaches out to grab the assignment sheet I've placed on his desk, eyes perusing it briefly before handing it back to me.

Another meaningless, sly smile.

"Ah, I know it's not ideal. But I know you can handle it. You're one of the strongest nurses we have. We all know that—"

"—Actually," I interject, "the assignment isn't safe regardless of which nurse is assigned to it. That's what we all know. We need another nurse today in order to give the patients the care they deserve."

"C'mon, Lauren. Work with me here. You know we have to be mindful of our numbers. We're about halfway into the fiscal year and our productivity numbers are just awful. We all need to make sacrifices."