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“Oh, Dr. Ashworth, do you have a minute?”
I stopped and spun on my heels. “What’s up?” I quickly looked at her nametag. “Joanna.”
“It’s the patient in 405. He was complaining all night about his knee pain.”
“Did you up his pain meds?” I asked.
“No. We thought we’d ask you when you came in.”
“You could have paged me or called my on-call number. He just came out of surgery.” I was irritated. I had given strict instructions that if his pain level rose, I was to be contacted.
I rushed off to check on him before scolding the nurse any further.
I pushed open the door. “Mr. Hamlin, I heard you had a rough night.”
He winced before I even made it to the bed. “I didn’t sleep at all. And those nurses wouldn’t give me anything other than the original prescription.”
I carefully examined his knee and pulled the bandages away from his skin. The incision was a small one. It was amazing what we could do with surgery, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t going to hurt like a bitch.
“Well, I was hoping the swelling would have gone down a little more.” I looked at the man, clearly uncomfortable, even with icepacks and pillows cushioning his leg. “How about we up the pain killers today just a bit, and then we’ll back off them slowly tomorrow to get you to a manageable dose? I don’t want you to be too loopy, but it’s not worth not getting any sleep either. Agreed?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll take anything at this point.”
I squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll have the nurses bring it in right away.” I smiled. “Get some rest.”
I walked out, closing the door behind me, and sought out the nurse to administer the higher level of medication. This was exactly the type of situation that irritated me. The man needed sleep to heal, and for whatever reason, no one thought to call me or consult Dr. Peers last night. Now he was miserable and sleep-deprived. The last thing he needed after having knee replacement surgery. I marched toward the nurses’ station ready to tear off some heads.
“Bagel, Dr. Ashworth?” One of the assistants held up a box of pastries in my direction.
“No,” I barked. “I want to know why Mr. Hamlin didn’t get the medication he needed last night.” I slammed my patient files on the desk. “He hasn’t been out of surgery twenty-four hours.”
Everyone stopped eating and looked at me. “I-I wasn’t here last night,” the girl stammered.
“Well, find someone who was,” I snapped at her. “I’ll wait.” I eyed her as she scurried away from the baked goods and started asking nurses who was responsible for Mr. Hamlin.
I tapped my pen on the counter, waiting for an excuse. I wrote up the changes for his medication and handed them to the nurse administrator to update his patient information while I waited.
I pointed at her. “And make sure that says urgent.”
She nodded. “I will.”
I knew she wasn’t the one in charge of medication, but there were too many cracks in this system. I was livid.
As I waited, I heard my name paged over the intercom at the same time my pager started beeping in my pocket.
“Dr. Ashworth, you are needed in OR four, stat.”
I took off down the hall and punched in the second floor where the surgery bays were located.
I ran toward the surgery desk. “I’m Dr. Ashworth. I had a page.”
“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here.” The surgical administrative attendant looked panicked, and I began to wonder if it was a member of her family that had the emergency.
“What happened? What’s going on?” I asked.
Tears welled in her eyes. “It’s Wes Blakefield.”
I blinked. I knew I was bad at names, but if this one was supposed to mean something, I was really screwed.
