Despite It All

Chapter 28

"What is with these residents today?" Kelly questions, agitation dripping heavily with each syllable.

It's 1545 on Monday afternoon, and it's chaos as usual around these storied halls. The high-pitched tone of pinging call lights pierces through the air, out of sync and tumultuous. Phones are ringing and chiming, unsuccessful in drowning out the sounds of crying children behind closed doors. Environmental service carts roll down the halls—a steady bass line to the cadence of the floor.

"I'm not sure but they need to figure their shit out, I can't do anything until they put these orders in for my new admission," I respond. "The mom is on edge and she's going to lose it on me if the doctors don't at least put a diet order in."

Kelly scoffs, "You'd think it's July with the way the residents are working these days. I can't decide if I'm just more knowledgeable and therefore less patient, or if they're truly getting dumber as time goes on."

The newest residents come every July, fresh from medical school. It's... a painful time for nurses and patients alike. The new residents have no idea how anything works, and despite their shiny new medical degree, it's evident they know as much about direct patient care as I know about astrophysics.

Next to nothing.

Of course, they have a plethora of information and are incredibly intelligent, but the actual application of their knowledge to real-life scenarios rarely plays out the way it does in the textbooks, and in many cases, it is necessary to defer to real experience—that they don't have. Of course, that's why they're here... to gain experience. Doesn't make the learning curve any less stressful, though.

"Probably a bit of both, Kel," I laugh. I am standing at my computer station, sending the resident another page, imploring him to call me.

My fingers tap anxiously on my phone, willing it to ring. A quick glance at the clock reveals that Mia should be out of her surgery now, and I'm really anxious to see her—them, I mean. I know Logan is anxious. Even though I haven't really had an opportunity to check my phone, my smartwatch has been vibrating all day long, notifying me of his messages. He knows I'm working and likely can't answer, but I have to admit it's killing me to know I can't be there with him as he waits.

My phone chimes, the specific ringtone alerting me that it is a patient's call light. I check the phone, showing me which room number is calling for me. "Ugh, it's that mom again!" She has pushed the call light button four times in the last 30 minutes, and I don't know how else to tell her the exact same information—that I have no information for her yet.

"Hey Laur, I'm about to discharge Jess. I figured you'd want to say bye," Priya interjects.

"Shit. Okay, yeah I want to see her before she leaves. Thanks so much for grabbing me. Just let me address this call light first, then I'll be in, okay?"

Priya shoots me a thumbs up before gathering her discharge paperwork, going through the instructions and medication lists before talking with the family.

My phone chimes again—a not so silent nudge in the direction of my newest patient's room. I close my eyes, digging deep for whatever semblance of patience I have left deep within my desolate, service-industry driven soul.

"Hey guys!" I address the patient and his mother as cheerfully as I can muster.

"Well, we've been waiting for you to update us. What is the hold up? Can he order food or not? He's starving!"

Unblinking, I force myself to count to five before gently reminding the mother that I have no personal control over the doctor's actions. A breath.