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“It’s bad, Jett,” she whispers, leaning in close enough that I catch a whiff of the light, clean scent she’s wearing. “I can’t say anything more than that, of course, due to HIPAA, but I’m sure your own eyes can tell you that much.”
Glancing at the overflowing triage areas where most of my team, and quite a few of the other students from school are moaning in agony, I nod. Taking a moment, I send up a silent prayer that the kids recover quickly, and their suffering lessens soon, before looking at her once more.
“You look run off your feet, I thought you worked a later shift?” I question. I don’t really want to delay her, but curiosity wins out right now.
“I got an ‘all hands on deck’ phone call, and when I heard what was going on, I couldn’tnotcome in, Jett. The principal has to be freaking out,” she replies.
“He might be, but he’s educated and trained for these scenarios. It’s why he’s earned the position and title he has, so I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” Seeing her glance over her shoulder, I say, “Go ahead, Sunday, I won’t keep you. Thanks for taking good care of my boys.”
“Always, Jett.”
ChapterFive
Sunday
By the timemy actual scheduled shift is done, I’m beyond toasted. As I slip my Crocs off and my tennis shoes on, I bag them up to take home and run through the washing machine, along with the other two sets of scrubs I’ve gone through and exchanged thanks to all the projectile vomiting that occurred in the ER. Thankfully, some of the kids didn’t have to be admitted because they didn't eat their whole lunch, but there are still enough who were that our hospital is temporarily closed to any incoming traumas. I’m sure it won’t stop the emergency room from hopping when I’m on shift again, but I’m off for the next two nights.
“I definitely need it, too,” I mumble, grabbing my stuff and pulling out my keys. My goal is to hit up the Tasty Chick drive-thru, buy a family-size bucket of chicken along with the sides, then spend the next two days recovering. Hopefully, they’ll be open since it’s still early for fast-food operating hours, but if not, I’ll figure something else out. With all the charting I had to complete before I could officially clock out and leave, I’m starving since I had to skip several of my breaks, and my belly is rumbling in protest even as my feet drag, and my eyes droop.
Once inside my car, with the bag of dirty scrubs and my Crocs tucked inside the trunk, I head out of the parking lot toward restaurant row so I can order some of the best chicken I’ve ever had. As my phone syncs to the Bluetooth in my car, I hear the pings of all the missed calls and texts. Hitting the message icon, I listen to each one, grinning when I hear the robotic female reading my mom’s message, which is a play by play of what she’s taken care of for me since I was called into work before my shift began.
“You’re the best, Mom,” I state once given the option to reply. “I’m grabbing food for the next few days then holing up in my bed. Hopefully, there won’t be any emergencies come through the hospital that get me recalled into work, because I’m not gonna lie, I’m in a lot of pain.”
My phone immediately rings, and her concerned voice reverberates from the other end of the line. “Honey, I grabbed some Epsom salts when I was out and about running my daily errands. I stored them in your bathroom’s medical supply cabinet for you, be sure you take a long soak and use some please.”
Laughing, I remark, “Definitely, they’ve been a lifesaver.”
I’m sure my surgeon would frown on how much I moved around during the influx of students that walked in needing to be seen. From what Moira said when I was caught rubbing my aching limbs, shifts aren't normally that bad and raucous. The situation with the school, however, was something completely unprecedented. I do know the trauma response team plans to implement an emergency protocol should something like this ever happen again.
“I also hit up the grocery store and stocked you up on the things I know you like, sweetie,” she reveals.
“Mom, I’m all grown up now, remember? Plus, I live on my own,” I state.
“You may be an adult, but you’ll always bemylittle girl. When I heard what happened, I figured you’d be working overtime, so took one of your chores on. That’s all, no more, and no less,” she retorts. “If I can’t help my own daughter, who else can I help?”
“Thanks, Mom. I do appreciate it because I’ll be doing laundry until I return to work,” I grumble. “I’m kinda glad I’m a bit over the top about some things though, because at least, I had clean scrubs to change into.”
“It’s always a good idea to have a backup set. Your grandma told me that trick when I first started working in the nursing field.”
“I went through both pairs of my backups,” I admit, snickering. “And my Crocs get to go into the wash as well.”
“Good heavens, it was that bad?” she asks. “You know I don’t want the particulars because you can’t tell me, but I must have misheard the rumors because I didn’t think it was too horrible and outrageous.”
“Well, we had a large group in one room since the parents and kids all knew each other, and before the anti-nausea meds took hold, there was quite a bit of projectile vomiting going on,” I disclose to her, snickering when she makes a gagging noise. “What? It’s not like you haven’t had people do the same to you when you were working on the floor.”
“Yeah, I know, and it made me gag then, too,” she sasses. “Get yourself home, take a good, hot soak, then make sure you take some of your pain meds, honey. That’s what they’re for, and I know you’re probably hurting like hell.”
“I almost feel like I did after my first few surgeries. But I’ll be sure to do what you suggest once I inhale half of my chicken that I’m about to order,” I tease.
“You and your chicken. I swear you’re going to grow feathers one of these days. You let me know if you need me to do anything else. I saw the reminder notice that Princess Pudge is due to go to the vet for her shots on your refrigerator.”
“Yeah, she’s due for her next round, then, I’ll get her spayed. She had no clue what she was in for the day she showed up on my back porch, did she?” I question, giggling.
“She’s definitely spoiled, but I’m sure she’s lonely when you’re gone. Have you considered getting a second pet to keep her occupied?”
“Already planning on me being a crazy cat lady, Mom?”
“Not at all, but during your shifts, they’ll keep each other company, honey. Besides, I heard you were seen talking to Jett Blake last weekend at Ike’s.”
