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Posted on Saturday, 8 January 2005
At 28, Elizabeth Bennett had achieved what most people could merely dream of. She was advancing quite nicely in her nursing career and was already the youngest nursing supervisor anyone could remember at the hospital. She had every advanced life support accreditation available, and her masters degree in public health. Not only was she the youngest nursing administrator at work, but she was the administrator of the emergency department. The personalities and the trauma and the unpredictability of the ER gave it the reputation as the most difficult department to supervise. It had taken some of her predecessors twenty years to get that position. Elizabeth had it thrown on her in seven.
She hadn't wanted it, but when she was promised she could have half of her hours remain in direct patient care, she agreed. Fearful of losing the clinical skills she had worked so hard to hone, it reassured her to know that she was still a part of that twelve-hour shift world. Yes, she would have to write reports and discipline staff and schedule hotly contested vacation days, but she still got to nurse patients.
She wanted her staff's respect to come from any respect they might have of her as a nurse, not because her name was on a nameplate outside her office.
When she began her career seven years ago, she gleefully threw herself at the hospital she had dreamed of: Cook County Medical Center in Chicago. She wanted them and they wanted her. She quickly earned the respect of her co-workers who appreciated her clinical skills as well as her kindness and openness. As a nurse, Elizabeth both knew the science and the art of nursing and trusted her own judgment. Many new grads were hesitant for months to make life and death decisions, but she knew when to trust her own instincts and when to seek out assistance from others.
When tension climbed in the ER, and that was often, she had a way of sneaking an unbearably funny epithet under her breath as she was exiting a room that would leave the doctors and nurses chuckling on and off for hours. Best of all, if the target of the scathing, but hushed, comment had been Bill Collins, the laughter was more likely to last for days and be shared from shift to shift during report.
To say that Collins was disliked in the Emergency Room would not do the situation justice. After he had been promoted to Director of Charitable Donations, his slimy pandering to wealthy patients and their families was loathed by all who had watched him in action. He seemed to think that any time was the right time to hit someone up for money. Even if a wife had just heard that her beloved husband of fifty years had died moments ago, somehow, he silently slithered up to her from out of nowhere and coyly suggested a sizeable donation in his, um, what's-his-name's memory. After all, the hospital was a good cause, wasn't it? He was even known to read through the list of the day's admissions and see who might possess some money of which they might like to be liberated. Yes, he wanted donations but he wanted them for his career advancement. He couldn't really care less about the hospital or its programs, but he wanted to be the best. Jobs like his were often the first to go in a budget-crunch year, and he was well aware of it.
To contrast with the oily and disliked Collins, gentle and calm Jane also had received a job offer from Cook County after completing her degree at Northwest in nutrition.
As students, Jane and Elizabeth had worked in completely different departments, but they tried to make appointments with each other for a quick trip to Starbucks every day or so on a break. Sometimes it happened, and sometimes it didn't. Jane was able to organize her breaks with much more ease than Elizabeth. Many times Liz would find herself holding a patient for a spinal tap while she watched the clock tick through her scheduled break or rushing to a code blue when she saw the herd of doctors and nurses and respiratory therapists running. She loved what she did; missing an appointment with her sister was just part of the deal. Jane always understood when she found herself being stood up at Starbucks by her beloved sister.
At night, Lizzie never failed to recount in bloody detail what the reason had been for standing her up. These gruesome, and occasionally gross, retellings of the day's events became a dinner table ritual. Their mom, Mrs. Bennett, would have been speechless if she could hear them talk of eviscerations and ocular trauma over Cobb salad in their apartment.
Luckily, Jane was not too squeamish about most of the more "vivid" descriptions. Jane may be calm and gentle, but she could handle guts and gore with the best of them. Elizabeth had often joked that Jane was a closet adrenaline junkie, but just didn't know it yet.
Now, after rising through the ranks in the ER over the last seven years, Lizzie was the go-to lady for most of the problems that arose. If an IV pump suddenly became possessed and refused to work, she could fix it. If a parent refused to leave the room during a procedure that required it, Lizzie could convince them to go to her office with her and drink some tea and wait. (Lizzie made sure to have plenty of Styrofoam cups and tea bags stashed in her cabinet for the benefit of distraught kin or staff members in need.) If the lab folks couldn't find a single vein that would work during a blood draw, Lizzie could somehow either get it herself, or call to the neonatal unit and convince someone to come down and try. Lizzie knew she was good, but she was smart enough to know that the neonatal folks who drew the preemies were the best anywhere. She was a talented nurse because of just that personality trait: she believed in herself, but didn't need to see herself as the best, perfect nurse. She knew how to recognize the skills in others.
Overall, Lizzie was happy; she felt good about what she did and she had enough financial security to know she could take care of herself in a middle class way. But why was she so incredibly lonely when she brushed her teeth at night? Why, as an accomplished person, did she feel so unaccomplished when she crawled in her empty bed and thought about the journey she hadn't taken...the journey into a trusted man's life who would love her and bring her children and care for her? She took care of everyone and met the needs of others twenty four hours a day. Was it too much to expect to have someone want to do that for her?
When she crawled out of bed that day in August, she knew she was late and that made her crazy. If she was late, she wouldn't be able to get report from the shift that was going off. Without sitting down for report, she would have to waste patient care time scouring charts for info that she could have easily received from night shift.
Throwing on her navy scrub top and pants, she grabbed her keys, her stethoscope, fanny pack, and her purse and headed to her car. She was glad for a red light at the first intersection so she could pull her hair into a ponytail. She preferred her hair down, but at work, it just didn't keep out of her way enough.
Lizzie was thrilled to make most of the traffic lights and she got a great parking spot that was close to the elevator. Half walking, half jogging to the ER through the surgery waiting room, she saw an obviously distressed woman crying into a Kleenex while nursing a small baby. Lizzie walked by and then suddenly turned and asked if she could do anything for the woman.
"Thank you...I, um, don't know what to think right now. I have been up for so many hours now. I don't know if I can formulate a coherent thought." The woman gave a half-hearted chuckle that was mixed with numbness.
Lizzie had talked with enough distraught people to know when to let someone have a moment to think, and when to offer her own thoughts. Presently, the woman introduced herself as Sharon Morgan and patted the baby's bottom and said, "This is my daughter, Riley. She will be two weeks old tomorrow. She was born upstairs, and I didn't really think we would be here again. My husband was driving home from work and was hit by a someone that was drunk. They called me to come, and when I got here, he was already in surgery." Sharon's eyes were glazed with exhaustion and worry. She continued, "I don't even know what they are operating on."
Lizzie could tell that this wife was feeling overwhelmed by what was happening, and the bright lights and the hospital smells and the constant intercom noise and parade of people walking by was not helping. Lizzie knew she needed to get to the ER, but she was going to do what she could to help this lady make it through the shock she was feeling. "My name is Elizabeth Bennett and I am a nurse in the ER. I'm sure your husband came through the ER earlier, but I'm just coming on. I don't know anything right now. Would you like to bring Riley and come sit in my office while I do some checking about your husband?" Lizzie hoped the woman would agree; seeing her trying to nurse a newborn with devastation on her face was difficult to watch.
Mrs. Morgan agreed and gathered the small diaper bag she had and stood up to walk with Lizzie, but as she did, the room began to spin and she held out a hand to grab the armrest of her chair. Elizabeth was more than aware of what had happened, and whispered into Sharon's ear as she helped her sit back down, "I would like to carry Riley when we try this again, and I will arrange for a breakfast tray to be sent to my office. You need to have some food for the baby, and you need it for yourself, as well."
Lizzie didn't want to walk a dizzy, faint person down the long hall to her office. If Mrs. Morgan fainted while Lizzie had the baby, it would be difficult to keep Mrs. Morgan from injury. She knew it was just a matter of time until a familiar face walked through the surgery waiting room. Presently, she heard the voice of her buddy, Charlotte, and Lizzie called to her, "Hey, Charlotte, could you help me with my new little friend, Riley?"
Charlotte was the perfect nurse to help! She was the administrator of the OB floor upstairs. She smiled and introduced herself to Miss Riley. Charlotte didn't have children, but she loved babies and she thought Riley was an uncommonly beautiful newborn. With Riley in good hands, Lizzie asked Sharon if she was ready for a trip to a nice, relatively quiet office to rest and have some nourishment. Sharon thought that she could probably make it if they went a little slowly.
Lizzie's office wasn't very far away, but it was distant enough to take a minute or two to reach at their careful pace. When they reached the office, Lizzie sat Sharon down and picked up the phone while Charlotte flirted with Riley. Lizzie had two calls to make: first, she would arrange for a breakfast tray to be sent immediately to her office. Lizzie laughed quietly when she realized what her request would sound like! She wanted them to know that she was requesting it for a family member and not for herself. She would clear that up in private later. (After it was discovered Bill Collins was demanding food trays for "potential donors" that had suddenly vanished, Lizzie didn't want Jane's co-workers to talk about Lizzie the way they did for weeks about Collins!)
Secondly, she called upstairs to OB and asked that a clean isolette be sent to her office. As unusual as that was, they said they would send it immediately. That way, when Riley dozed off, she could be put down and not require her mom to hold her constantly. Lizzie's office wasn't spacious, but she knew there was one more thing she would like for Sharon, and that was a recliner like they used in outpatient surgery recovery. What the heck? It couldn't hurt to ask. Perhaps Sharon could take a small rest with the lights off.
Lizzie would have been able to call the plant op supervisor and try to arrange the recliner, if she hadn't heard the unmistakable roar coming from the ER. The roar was growing in strength. If she wasn't mistaken, that was the roar of an angry, demeaning doctor who wasn't getting his way. She apologized to Sharon for leaving her for a moment, made eye contact with Charlotte, silently imploring her to stay in her office, and hastened to the nurses' desk. She was taking in the situation immediately as she approached. The doctor who was roaring was a new one, and Lizzie sized him up as another doc with a God complex. She had met many. They were usually good doctors that saw themselves as overly important and their status meant being polite was not required of them. They were Gods, after all, and if some nurse was too stupid to know it, than they were welcome to just jump in the nearest lake.
Lizzie had little patience for childish behavior from doctors like this and felt it was unnecessary and embarrassing to the department, which was filled with patients listening through the curtains. She held her head up high, smiled her beautiful smile and made up her mind to be polite to this man.
"Excuse me, please? I don't believe we have met. I'm Elizabeth Bennett and the supervisor around here. I was hoping that I could help you?" Lizzie tried hard to keep her anger from showing. She didn't know if it was working.
The man was indeed a surgeon who had privileges at the hospital but rarely treated or admitted patients to Cook County. He looked startled for a moment, wondering if this young woman could truly be an administrator at a hospital this large. His experience had taught him to think that administrators were usually old and gray and pacifying. This one did not look old or gray or pacifying. What she did look like was a woman who was getting angry and trying to hide it.
"I would like you to explain to me precisely why you would possibly run a department in the manner you do and allow staff to run off when they are expected to be HERE and do their jobs!" This doctor was getting loud again and Lizzie was tempted to yell at him in the same type of voice he was using. She wouldn't. She absolutely would not let him think that he had bothered her with his comment.
"Well, Doctor, umm...let's see...Darcy. I am not sure exactly what you are talking about, but if you could stop yelling at my staff long enough to grace us with some pertinent details, I would be honored to try to assist you. If you would like, I can help you to a bench and you could take a little time-out. I know that has worked many times for my niece in kindergarten."
The four other nurses that had been near the desk looked at each other as if trying to will each other to breathe through this exchange without howling. The nurses knew it would prove very bad for Lizzie if any of them started laughing at the doctor.
Lizzie knew she had crossed the line by threatening a surgeon with time-out! She could only imagine the meeting she would be having with her boss when Dr. Darcy wrote her up for her remarks. She wasn't his subordinate, but she was expected to be civil to all medical staff. As amazed at herself as she was for saying it, she was equally as furious at him for berating her and her staff. She worked with wonderful people who she cared for. He had no right to scream at them.
When Dr. Darcy had forced some of the red out of his face, he slowly and calmly asked, "Can you tell me where someone named Anne de Bourgh is and why she is not at this hospital where she is scheduled to be working at this very minute?"
Lizzie had no idea why Dr. Darcy wanted to know where Anne was. Anne was a great respiratory therapist, but she was a fragile diabetic. Anne was popular with the intensive care docs and the neonatal nursery. In fact, many of them requested them to work exclusively with their cases She knew what she was doing, and they trusted her with their most fragile patients. Unfortunately for everyone, Anne's diabetes was slowly getting out of control again. Until it was stable, Elizabeth helped her change her schedule to give her more time for taking care of herself; hopefully, her efforts would preserve her eyesight and keep her from cardiac problems to which she was prone. Anne had been grateful that Elizabeth cared enough to spend extra time scheduling the changes and arranging for coverage.
Lizzie answered Dr. Darcy's question. "Miss de Bourgh is on an alternate schedule. I am assuming you wanted Anne to care for one of your cases, and you are unhappy she is unavailable. I e-mailed all the medical staff and notified them, since she is often called to "special" a patient. I am continuing to assume, Dr. Darcy, that since you don't often treat at this hospital, you didn't receive the email about Anne's new schedule. I wonder, did you have the opportunity to confirm Anne's presence with Human Resources?"
Dr. Darcy drew his lips together and stared at Lizzie and spoke in an even tone, "Miss Bennett, I was told by my colleagues that Anne was the therapist of choice for my next case. I was unaware that she would not be working today. If you would be so kind as to help me page the RT department, I would be obliged. I need to know who they have that can help I insist on the most experienced they have."
With that, Lizzie smiled with her beautiful eyes burning and said, "Dr. Darcy, I would be happy to assist you." In her head, she was screaming, "Big fat jerk with a God-complex. Big fat jerk with a God-complex. Big fat tall good-looking jerk with a God-complex and an Armani suit." Lizzie led him to the phone and tried to not let him know how much she wanted to escort him out of her department and bolt the door behind him.
Lizzy hadn't meant to say it out loud, but before she could stop herself, she just said it and waited for it to hit its mark, like one of those torpedoes on Dad's WWII movies. She waited for it to detonate and he definitely got her meaning. She wanted him to feel like a little boy for throwing his fit and criticizing her department and her leadership. He exhaled audibly and looked down at the floor. He looked up in time to see Lizzy slip into the RT office and followed her a few steps behind. She may be beautiful, he mused, but she was very cranky.
After a moment, the RT manager listened to Dr. Darcy and assured him that he would page a great guy who had worked in ICU for four years. That seemed to satisfy Darcy and he looked relieved. Elizabeth didn't think she should tempt fate and look at him after that latest remark and just zipped out a "Have a nice day" as she walked back to her department. Her pager was sounding, and she called the cardiac care unit to see what they needed. Apparently the anesthesiologists were rebelling against the new IV start kits and had secretly confiscated a case of the older and better ones. The new ones were horrible and difficult to use. The cardiac care unit was trying to find the "good" ones and Supply, Processing and Distribution couldn't help. So Lizzy, the fixer of all problems, was paged to negotiate between the anesthesiologists and the CCU nurses, or at least find some of the older kits in the ER and send some up. It wasn't hard to find some in the overflow rooms.
Leaving the overflow section, one of the newer nurses, Candace, then approached and asked Lizzy to have a quick look at her patient. The woman was resting comfortably, but the IV Candace had started appeared to have infiltrated the vein. As hard as it had been to find the vein in the first place and keep it from rolling, Candace was now afraid that the IV catheter might need to be withdrawn and the whole line restarted. Lizzy looked at the site and agreed that it should probably be removed and tried again in the other arm. IV fluid was accumulating outside the vein and the arm looked slightly swollen and red. The needle had apparently not remained inside the vein, but had poked out of it. Candace looked apprehensive. Getting the first one in had been a baptism of fire, and the other arm had no good veins at first inspection.
Lizzy offered to start it and Candace explained to the patient why they needed to try again as she withdrew the line. Apologies were made by both Lizzy and Candace, and Lizzy set to work. "This is great," Lizzy thought. "Bad IV set and a bad vein....but I so love a challenge. Greater and more irritating obstacles had not intimidated me today."
Lizzy watched for the desired flashback of blood into the needle, and after it appeared, she knew she had a good stick. She really didn't want to have to try again; the patient had been more than good-natured, and Lizzy wanted to give her a break. Candace had already prepared the dressing and it was just a moment before the infusion was in place correctly. Candace thanked Lizzy for the help while Lizzy set another heated blanket on the patient. She patted the patient on the shoulder and told her to feel better soon and Lizzy congratulated Candace on having the courage to get another opinion on the IV site. "That," said Lizzy, "is why you are a good nurse." Candace looked more than sufficiently pleased at her boss' compliment.
After solving that pressing problem, Lizzy checked the board in the ER and since it wasn't backed up at all, she wanted to check on Mr. Morgan. According to the board, he was listed as Morgan, Mark, age 26.
She would need to use a computer, and those at the nurses' station were being used. She'd use the one in her office, though she pretty much hated it and found it very slow and unreliable. She had expected to find Charlotte, Sharon and Riley there, but they were gone! Most likely, Charlotte had found a bed up on L and D for Sharon to use. Lizzy knew full well that that wasn't procedure, but Charlotte and Lizzy both had done it if compassion required it and a room was available. Elizabeth typed Mr. Morgan's name into the census screen of her computer and she couldn't find the listing. Lizzy started to feel her heart speed up a bit.
Usually it wasn't hard to locate a patient at all. If she called Bed Control she could find out what the deal was quickly, especially if Marion was around. She was a kick in the pants and unflappable!
Most departments communicated with Bed Control hourly. The BC staff was responsible for finding appropriate beds for each patient in the hospital 24 hours a day. Lizzy compared it to the reservation desk in a very exclusive hotel. In the age of technology, Bed Control was still very low tech in appearance. Each patient had a card, blue for males and pink for females that was placed in a huge wall of metal pockets. Each pocket represented a bed. Infectious patients couldn't be near surgical patients and mentally unstable ones had to be separated. Patients requiring an ICU bed would have to be given preference over outside admissions. Routine surgeries might have to be cancelled during flu season if the ICU beds were occupied and if the hospital was at capacity. If they had to go "on diversion," all hell broke loose and the BC people went nuts. If they were on diversion it meant that the hospital's census was so high that they literally had to shut their doors to all emergencies and admissions. The telephone nightmares were legendary during these shakeups. Doctors insisted their patients needed admitting. ER would be screaming because there were no empty beds and the ER was backing up. Patients would end up being held in the hallways and that was a bummer for everyone, patients and staff alike. There were so many rules in Bed Control that Lizzy was glad she didn't have their job. To her, it was just a huge mess that started all over each day. Lizzy knew herself well. If she worked in Bed Control, she would have alienated the entire hospital and greater Chicago's medical community by the end of the first day! She'd stick to nursing.
Since Elizabeth couldn't locate Mr. Morgan in the computer, she would just call Marion in BC and get the scoop. The phone was answered immediately and Marion could see the call extension was from the ER. Marion winced, "Bed Control, Marion."
"Hi Marion, this is Bennett. How are you today?"
"Well, actually, this has been one of those days. We have seventeen patients with no room and everybody wants a room now. Other than that, life is good. What can I do for you?"
"I'm trying to find a patient in surgery. I had no luck on my computer and I knew you would know the scoop. I'm thinking he is either in surgery, or recovery or a bed, but I have no idea and my computer hates me" Lizzy answered.
"Okay, hold on. Labor and Deliver is calling to yell at me again," Marion said matter-of-factly. After a minute, she got back to Lizzy and said that L and D was done screaming at her.
"Sorry, Marion. But anyway, I need a location on Morgan, Mark ."
"Yep, hold on...L and D isn't finished with me yet." Marion put Lizzy on hold again. She returned to Lizzy, "Yep, I got him. Expired at 0918. Sorry, I guess that's why he wasn't in the system."
As soon as Marion had said those words, she paled and realized how horrible they sounded. She gushed, "Lizzy, I... I am so sorry. I don't know how I could have possibly said it like that. He.. he... wasn't a family member to you, or a friend ,was he? Oh, Lizzy, please forgive me. I really wasn't thinking. I don't know how I could have said that and sounded so heartless."
Lizzy thanked her for her help in a monotone voice and reassured Charlotte that with such a stressful job, the mistake could be understood.
Elizabeth Bennett had sat down at her desk instinctively. She would not have survived in the ER over the years if she didn't have ways to deal with such sad events. She had taught workshops in dealing with just such things. You couldn't survive any kind of nursing specialty if you didn't have a protective layer around you, but she still ached for Mrs. Morgan. She felt her throat catch and she breathed deeply. "Okay, Bennett, assess and act," she told herself. She would find Charlotte and Sharon and her baby and she would do it NOW. She didn't know if Sharon had been notified yet, but she wanted to be with her.
Standing up, she adjusted her stethoscope and opened her office door and walked straight into Dr. Darcy, who was standing there with an IV start kit and another angry look on his red face.
She stepped to the right and walked around a very stunned Dr. Darcy and had only taken four or five steps before she heard his confused, "Pardon me?"
Lizzy had no intention of solving any more of Dr. Darcy's pressing problems for today. She had just about had it with him. If she had thought about it, she would have realized that she held him responsible for not knowing where Mrs. Morgan was. She resented Dr. Darcy's tirade, and the time she had spent to placate him, while she was needed somewhere else.
If he had been more of a gentleman and not carried on so loudly at the nurse's station, the nurses out there would have been more than happy to call the house supervisor to find his respiratory therapist, and she could have remained in her office with Mrs. Morgan. The Anne de Bourgh thing was such a little deal, and he behaved like a baby. As it was, a very nice young woman was being dealt the shock of her life, and Lizzy wanted to do whatever she could to continue the care she had started, and here he was, with what most likely was a parking problem or something.
"Would you mind telling me where you are you going? Darcy demanded incredulously.
"I am going to do my job. I have been unable to finish what I started earlier and I must leave you in the sufficiently competent hands of my co-workers. They, or any of the OR staff, can answer any questions you may have. Excuse me. Please" She added the "please" only as an afterthought. Maybe that would soften him a bit when he was writing her up at the end of the day. That he would "write her up" had already been decided in her mind. The only question was when she would get the email telling her to come upstairs and have a little chat with her superiors. She didn't care. "Big fat stupid jerk with a God-complex." kept rolling over and over in her mind. Maybe that was her childish streak replying to his...she would just call him names in the privacy of her mind. It helped her think less about the world's newest widow that was somewhere in this huge hospital.
No one had ever walked away from him in a hospital or probably anywhere else, either. He had walked away plenty of times from other people, but that was always different. He was an important man with an important job. He was the legend of Columbia Medical School for God's sake. He had just been summarily dismissed! He knew it, and she knew it. All she knew was that he was not her problem. He was the OR's problem. And now she needed to talk to Charlotte for whatever information she might be able to provide about Sharon Morgan.
The elevator was crowded with new, giggling grandparents and pink and blue floral arrangements and it took way too long to reach L and D. The unit secretary wasn't sure where Charlotte had gone, but was pretty sure she was still on the floor. Lizzie knew that Charlotte wouldn't be in her office since that door was closed. Charlotte hated to be in her office with the door shut. Only one section of L and D was open. The remaining section would remain dark and closed until they got busier and needed to call some people in. Labor and Delivery was a bit like ER in that it was nearly impossible to predict how busy they might be. If they were slammed with patients, being called in on a vacation day was very common in both departments.
Lizzie walked toward the darkened section of L and D when she saw the glow of fluorescent light filtering from under the door. Someone was in there. Hopefully, it was Charlotte.
Elizabeth softly knocked on the door and wasn't disappointed. She saw Charlotte but no one else. "Charlotte, what happened when I left you and Mrs. Morgan in my office?"
Well, Dr. Rajani came in and said he had been looking for Mr. Morgan's wife but had a hard time finding her. He had expected to find her in the waiting room, not in your office, Lizzie. He told her that her husband had more injuries than they had anticipated and they weren't able to keep him stable. Even with his young age and good health, the damage to the aorta and liver was massive. After that, Mrs. Morgan just...well, it was such a different reaction than I expected. She just stayed perfectly still."
"Then what, Charlotte?"
"Well, she looked up at me and kissed Riley on the head and handed the baby to me and got up and went to the restroom across from your office. I listened to the water running for about five minutes. The door opened, and she thanked me for staying with her and asked me if there was a phone she could use . She sort of reminded me of a shocked Jackie Kennedy sort of person. Social services arrived about then and took her to the quiet room. Later on, security came by to say her ride was here. We escorted her down to the lobby and a limo was waiting. The driver helped her with the car seat and they drove off. I was sort of glad they had left, because Collins was eyeing the limo pretty intently. You know how he is. He can smell a limo."
"Yeah, that's all she needs right now," Lizzie interjected.
"Social services said that she was struggling to be composed but didn't cry very much. Continuing Care was sending someone out tomorrow to see how things were going."
Lizzie was glad about that. Continuing Care was a relatively new department but their reputation for excellence was growing. They used to work out of hospice, but they were now their own self-contained department. Lizzy was grateful they would be available to Mrs. Morgan.
Charlotte and Lizzie looked around the room and didn't speak for a few minutes after that. Charlotte smoothed the bedspread that didn't need smoothing, and Lizzie looked out the window. Together they had so many memories of nursing school that were built around rooms just like this. When Lizzie decided to do her masters, Charlotte applied as well and they had grown even closer. They were very similar, those two. They went above and beyond to give good care. For that, they respected each other and were more like sisters than colleagues. Greatness seeks out greatness.
They walked out of the empty room and turned the corner to the unit secretary's desk. Lizzie dropped her pager and turned around to pick it up. When she continued on in Charlotte's direction, she saw Charlotte giving a friendly smile to Dr. Darcy, who was writing orders on a chart.
"How is Mrs. Gaines doing? Was anesthesiology ever able to find more of the highly sought after IV start sets?" Charlotte inquired of Dr. Darcy with a lilt and a smile, "I know the new ones aren't working out too well, especially in dehydrated patients. We'll have to make sure Purchasing doesn't order from that vendor again. Soon, we'll have a little black market in the various departments as everyone fights for the remaining supply of old ones."
"Well, we got started a bit late because of it, but it worked out. She tolerated the cerclage, but we won't know if it helps for a while. With her other problems, it will be a long three months for her." Darcy had a hard time formulating his sentences. He truly didn't expect to see Miss Bennett up on L and D. He had been hoping to stay out of her way as much as possible for the time being. Darcy was stammering at Charlotte while trying to nonchalantly look in Lizzie's direction.
Clearly, Charlotte respected Dr. Darcy, Lizzie thought. She knew Charlotte well enough to know when a doctor had earned her good opinion and when one was not deserving. She didn't understand this at all. Charlotte loathed God-Doctors as much as Lizzie did, and here she is treating him like God's gift to modern medicine!
Lizzy edged over to the unit secretary to make small talk with her. She wouldn't be so rude as to blatantly walk away from Charlotte and Dr. Darcy, but she didn't have to go out of her way to speak with him again. This had been an emotionally exhausting shift and she still had six hours to go. She wanted this day to end so she could curl up on the couch at home and recount this whole day to Jane.
Charlotte had passed on some of Dr. Darcy's ultrasound orders to the charge nurse and asked him if there was anything else he needed, since he wasn't especially familiar with Cook County yet. Darcy thanked her, and said he would let her know.
He was going to stick around and see how his patient was responding before he left for the day. Mrs. Gaines was five months pregnant with fraternal twins and severe asthma. This was her fourth pregnancy, but the previous three didn't go to term. She was a patient who had no problem becoming pregnant, but when the fetus grew to a certain weight, she spontaneously delivered the baby months too early for viability. The cerclage Dr. Darcy had performed earlier was designed to hold the babies where they needed to be until term. At that time, the babies could be delivered and Mrs. Gaines, at last, would have not one, but two newborns in her arms. Normally, the cerclage worked well in these cases, but Mrs. Gaines' asthma problems and hypertension and the drugs required to treat them made her pregnancy very uncertain. She would most likely remain on the antepartum unit for the duration of her pregnancy. Lizzy had tried to hear the specifics of the case without being too obvious.
A nurse was asking to borrow Charlotte's key to the narcotic cabinet and after relinquishing it, she smiled and walked over to Lizzie.
"Lizzie, I am so embarrassed. I didn't introduce you to Dr. Darcy. He will be treating most of Dr. Lawrence's high risk OB patients as he eases into retirement. I've known him for a long time and there's no one better. We are lucky to have him with us. His reputation precedes him."
Lizzie had no choice but to straighten up as best she could and extend her hand, "Dr. Darcy, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again. Welcome to Cook County. If you would excuse me, please, I will be returning to my office."
Darcy winced Elizabeth gave Charlotte a quick arm squeeze and turned for the elevators. Charlotte didn't know what was going on, but that was not typical Lizzy behavior. There was something she didn't know, and when she wasn't so emotionally drained, she was going to ask Lizzy all about it. On her part, Lizzy had figured out why Darcy was so upset earlier when Anne de Bourgh wasn't at work. He wanted her to special Mrs. Gaines upstairs. He wanted the best for his Mrs. Gaines.
Downstairs, when she was helping to re-stock the supply shelves in the trauma room, she truly understood why people were fighting over the IV start sets. They new ones were indeed useless. They might work if you had a healthy person with textbook veins, but most people in the ER were there for a reason, and health wasn't it. In a true emergency when seconds counted, being unable to access a vein was enough to make even calm Lizzy throw a fit, just like....just like...Dr. Darcy. She didn't want to think about him of all people. She was too tired to remember such an unpleasant series of exchanges.
Lizzy had continued to murmur "big, fat, stupid God-Doctor" in her head, as she remembered all that had happened . She knew she would have to modify her mantra at least a bit. He might be big, he might be a jerk, and he might be a God-Doctor, but he wasn't fat. He was about the healthiest looking person she could imagine. He was about the best looking person she could imagine. But she wouldn't allow herself to accept that. "Big, healthy, stupid God-Doctor... big, healthy, stupid God-Doctor."
Candace, whom Lizzy liked very much, had offered to stay longer, but Lizzy knew that with a wedding less than two weeks away , Candace was trying to spend every free minute ironing out last minute details. It was just easier all around for Lizzy to stay at work. The ER seemed as much her home as the apartment was anyway, maybe even more. At work she had dozens of friends to share stories with and find ways to show she cared about them. She considered herself blessed to have a job she enjoyed so much. It amazed and amused Lizzy that the ER was comforting to her because it was so constant. The most unpredictable jobsite in the world was comforting because it was constant? Unbelievable.
Matt Myers had just come on as the afternoon doc and snapped Lizzy out of her philosophical self-talk. Matt was what every female needed, a platonic male best friend. They had indeed gone out a few times years ago, when he was a resident and she was a charge nurse, but they knew they were much better together as close friends and partners in crime than partners in romance. Matt teased Lizzy that she would be his forever if only she was only a redhead. Lizzy promised him that she would marry him if only he didn't look like Leonard Nimoy.
Lizzy knew that Matt looked nothing liked Leonard Nimoy and delighted herself with tormenting him. He had blond hair and green eyes and was just a bit taller than her. She had fixed him up with his latest girlfriend and was elated that they had been serious for over a year. It was the only time she had fixed someone up and they were still talking to her. Her previous attempts hadn't worked out so well. She knew Matt and Meegan would eventually marry. And she had herself to congratulate for it.
As busy as the day had been going, Lizzy brightened when she saw Matt.. They knew each other so well that she could depend on him to improve the remaining part. Apart from being the closest thing to a brother she had, they worked well together and Lizzy could anticipate what he would probably be ordering and what equipment he would request. There were way too many doctors to remember what size sterile gloves they would request and what sutures were their favorites. She didn't try to memorize them anymore; she could refer to the charts at the nurse's desk. But Matt was Matt. She knew all of his preferences. There was no one in the ER that she enjoyed working with as much. Lizzy's inner circle included three people: Jane, Charlotte and Matt. She knew she was lucky to have all of them. They were here family. They wanted to be in the inner circle as much as she wanted them to be. They were the best family a person could have.
Matt grabbed a chart from the rack and looked at Lizzy. "My God, Lizzie. How many hours do you plan on being here this week?"
"What are you talking about? I've just come on. Can't you see my fresh scrubbed face and my dewy, glowing complexion? My deep, seductive eyes burning into your innermost being, keeping you from practicing medicine as you dissolve into jelly?"
He laughed and said, "Yes, you are quite beautiful in all respects, as you are scandalously and irritatingly aware. Seriously, though, Lizzy, you aren't scheduled for today and here you are. We weren't made to work sixteen hours over and over. Once in a while, in a pinch, but you just keep doing it. You are like that bunny in the battery commercial. You just keep going and going and going. What's got you all bothered?"
"What makes you think something is bothering me? I'm just a devoted, tireless employee that makes every day a real joy for those lucky enough to be around me."
Matt had known Lizzy long enough to know how to deal with Lizzy when she was deflecting him. He would have to be sly.
"Lizzy, let me speak for the whole ER... no... not good enough.. Let me speak for the hospital. No, no, no. Let me speak for the city of Chicago when I thank you for the selfless devotion you show to those who throw themselves at our feet seeking healing. You are the light of the world. Now that you have been properly appreciated, can you tell me why you are in superwoman mode again?"
"Shut up," snickered Lizzy. Matt had coined the phrase "superwoman mode" when they first met and Matt had seen how many unpaid extra hours Lizzy was working and joked that next she would be leaping tall buildings in a single bound and stopping runaway trains. Over the years he had deduced that when Lizzy started working lots of extra shifts (I.E. superwoman mode) it was because something had shaken her up and she was stuffing it in.
She got up to walk to the trauma suite. He took his chart and caught up to her. "Lizzy, do you plan on actually giving up your apartment and moving into the hospital, or do you just want to let Jane keep it until you are too old to work anymore? Because I am sure the hospital would be more than happy to let you volunteer your nursing services for free every day and every night and let you sleep in your office and let you have your fill of the days leftovers from dietary."
If he expected her to take the bait, he was wrong. "Dr. Myers, I believe your leg laceration in 5 is awaiting your services. We try to be quick about these things. Keeps the board from being backed up," she hissed. She had pretended to sound angry, but it came out as more ridiculous than angry, especially since she never called him Dr. Myers unless a patient was present."
He decided to work on this more later. For the present he would just keep his eye on her. "Come on Bennett. I need you to help me do the stitches." They both knew he didn't need any help with simple stitches, but until he could figure out what was going on with Lizzy, he would try to stick as close as he could. He loved her like a sister, and he was determined to help. To help, he must have clues. And the clue finding would start right now...
Later on, Elizabeth had decided to call Jane and see if they could make a Starbucks run. Lizzy literally hadn't seen Jane in days and wanted to ask her a favor.
After they ordered their coffees, Lizzy asked if Jane could take some comp time off and go with Lizzie to Mark Morgan's funeral the next day. When Lizzy explained who he was and why she wanted to go, Jane was quiet for a few seconds.
"Lizzy, I can go with you, it's not a problem, it's just that I haven't really known you to go to funerals of patients like this before. Are you sure you are okay? You have been working so much and it just seems like you are beating yourself up for some reason. I think you seem a bit out of it. You don't have to go. You know that, don't you?"
"Of course I know that, Jane. It's just that maybe some closure is just what I need. I need to go and get this out of my system. I just want to go." Lizzy smirked at Jane with dancing eyes in the same way she had done as a little girl. She knew Jane would smirk back with her own eyes that didn't necessarily blaze, but were filled with love for her sister, her one truest friend.
"Then I will just have to go with you."
The service was at St. Michael's and Lizzy and Jane found a seat in a pew at the back of the church. It was one of the largest churches Lizzy had ever been in, and there was hardly an empty seat. Lizzy could see Sharon Morgan in the front pew holding Riley. Lizzy thought the lady next to her must have been her mother or maybe Mark's mother. Mark Morgan must have been very well known. The obituary mentioned that his grandfather had been one of the original partners of Morgan, Darcy and Bailey.
Morgan, Darcy and Bailey was now one of the largest law firms in the United States with more than 500 attorneys that practiced almost any type of law. Anyone could work for Morgan, Darcy and Bailey as long as they were three things: certified brilliant, hardworking and undeniably ethical. There were plenty of law firms that didn't care about the last part but to gain a position at MDB, you had to be a cut above. Mark had been a partner, and that made it even more poignant for Elizabeth. He was apparently not only a hardworking person, but he had a bright future. A new father, beautiful baby, lovely wife, and dead at the hands of a drunk driver. Maybe that was what Lizzy couldn't make peace with. Maybe that was what was draining her: Sharon Morgan had been robbed of what Lizzy had wanted herself...a family.
Jane and Lizzy heard the words of comfort the priests were speaking and prayed they would find a place in her heart. Lizzy felt her stomach tightening again. She hadn't eaten much breakfast and was paying for it now. Lizzy's stomach was famous for tying itself in knots when she was stressed. She looked around to distract herself and take some deep breaths when she saw familiar eyes staring back at her. Dr. William Darcy must have been staring at the same stained glass window that was to Elizabeth's left when he spotted her. She expected him to immediately look away, but he didn't. He acknowledged her with a brief nod and turned his gaze back to the altar. Elizabeth wondered if Dr. Darcy was a member of the same Darcy family associated with MDB. He must be, she thought. Darcy wasn't a really common name at all, and here he is. It couldn't be a coincidence.
Lizzy was feeling much worse and didn't want to go into it with Jane, but suggested to her that they return to the apartment right after the church service was over. She didn't feel up to the graveside service. Jane thought Lizzy was smart to skip the rest, too. She had guessed that Lizzie was sick. She had been working constantly for days, and not sleeping well for at least the last four. Now she was spending her day off at a funeral! A nap was in order, and Lizzie wasn't going to throw a fit, either. Jane wasn't alone in wanting her sister restored to her "old self." Elizabeth herself wanted to feel better for one simple reason: she had to work tomorrow and that would be hard to do if she felt like this uncomfortable.
After the final blessing, Jane and Lizzy waited for their opportunity to pay their respects to the family. They joined the line of mourners and walked up to the altar and passed by Sharon and her family. Sharon stood up from her pew when she saw Lizzy and embraced her and choked, "It was so thoughtful of you come. It means so much. Thank you." Lizzy squeezed her arm one more time and let the people behind her have their chance to pay their respects.
Glad to be on their way out of the church, Jane agreed to get the car when Lizzy remembered she hadn't signed the guest book in the church. If she wasn't tired before, going to a funeral had definitely going to put her over the top, but she knew that she was going to walk back to the church to sign the book. She was almost at the church steps when she saw him. She stopped in horror. It couldn't possibly be happening. Her feet were rooted to the cement. Bill Collins was on his way into the church and straightening his tie. The vulnerable lamb was inside and didn't know the wolf was circling for the kill.
Matt couldn't stand Collins from the first time they met. He loathed him after seeing how he worked vulnerable people over. Two years ago, Matt had been working on a child that had been pulled out of a backyard pool in an elite section of town. The child had been submerged for an unknown length of time. All of the staff had worked longer than they probably needed to in an effort to revive her, but with so many of the staff parents themselves, they were determined to try everything. If it didn't work the first time, they would try it again, and again. They were all willing to spend as much time as they needed. No one wanted to be the one to say "enough." Ultimately, Matt had to meet with the child's family in the quiet room and explain that he just couldn't give them the news they wanted. Nothing had worked and the child hadn't survived.
Matt was deeply affected by what had happened. The unpleasant duty that befell emergency room doctors was "part of the deal," as Lizzy would say, but when it was a child, it was exponentially more difficult.
When he met Collins trilling musically outside the quiet room with an expectant and fulfilled grin on his face, Matt steered him out of hearing distance and asked in a barely audible voice, "What are you doing in this department, Collins?"
"Well, I make a point of being visible in many departments, Doctor. I find it helpful if I know the particular needs of the many different areas of such a fine and distinguished place of healing like this. The inner-workings of such an important hospital become so... interesting... to those gracious benefactors and patrons that choose to gift us with their worldly, financial consideration. I would assume you would understand my need to visit often in the ER. It is one of the most promising and fruitful areas on which I call. I find it particularly gratifying to know I am helping so many families feel better in their time of need by helping our hospital. The joy on their relieved faces is just...a spiritual experience for me." Collins took out a handkerchief and ran it above his upper lip and around to his forehead. He was uncomfortable and pretending not to be. His words were saying one thing, but his sweat glands were screaming another.
"Listen, Collins. I'm tired. Everyone here is tired. Tired people are often not nice. If you so much as blow wind in this emergency room today, I will have you taken to surgery immediately with the diagnosis of bilateral testicular cancer. We will make sure that you benefit from the sophisticated and distinguished medical care that only an important and fine hospital, funded in part with some of your own efforts, such as this can offer. Your treatment will be complete and extensive. Have I made myself very clear? Stay away from that family!"
Collins was terrified. He was protective of his job, of course, but there were other things of which he was also protective. Matt had no intention of following through with his threat, indeed he couldn't even if he wanted to, but Collins didn't know that for sure. Matt had been angered to his very bones by Collins' predation. Collins had turned around and left. From then on, if he knew Matt was working, he avoided the department completely.
Lizzy could see that Collins was going to try to approach Sharon in the church. The family members that had been surrounding her had dispersed a bit and seemed to be quietly conversing with the priest on the other side of the aisle. Sharon had Riley and was smelling her hair and examining some of the large floral arrangements. "Perfect," he thought. Collins was circling.
He was almost in speaking distance when Lizzy appeared next to him from behind. She was trying as hard as she could to not sound like she had just run thirty yards in pumps. She was in pretty good shape, but her stomach was in more knots than before, and her head was throbbing. She would look ridiculous if she were hyperventilating. As it was, she was sure some of the remaining mourners were wondering why she was galloping up to the altar, and yet how she appeared was not her most pressing consideration. She tried to concentrate, "Slow and steady, breath in and out. Don't make any bigger scene than you have to. Think. What would Matt say to Collins? Think. Assess and act. Be effective"
Collins had not expected any company. He worked alone. He wasn't exactly sure what her name was, but he recognized her as a supervisor in the ER and he knew she was standing next to him. She was Myers' little friend. He remembered seeing them in the cafeteria frequently. There was no way he was going to let a bony, little witch interfere in his big prize. He deserved to get all he could from Morgan's family and MDB. He had never been in such proximity to the millions that stood near him, breathing their same air. He would be a legend. He could name his job and his price. Every non-profit in America would fight for him. Everything would be open to him. With a bequest like he was going to be getting from MDB, he could work in Washington for any of the power brokers. He would BE a power broker. They would all want him. Maybe he could work for a senator. That would work as well. But first...
He couldn't make a spectacle. He wouldn't do anything to make Myers come after him later (that guy was crazy) or get a complaint filed against him, but he was going to get what he wanted. This woman was a mere mosquito buzzing around his head, and this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Collins stepped closer to Lizzy and wrapped his arm around one of her forearms. He purred into her ear, "Look, you aren't going to stop me from doing my job, what I was hired to do, and you would never disrupt the remainder of this fine gathering. You wouldn't have the young widow's memory of her husband's fine funeral sullied by an upsetting outburst. You could never have that. They've been through way too much already. She would remember it forever, as would his father and mother and the rest of the family. It would haunt you. You are going to walk out with me and around to the side of the church, and you are going to leave me alone."
Lizzy wanted to wiggle out of his arm, but he had been increasing the pressure as he had been whispering to her. He was turning her skin at an angle. He worried for a moment that he might leave a mark, but ultimately, it would be her word against his. Plus, there were little problems like this in the workplace all the time. Nothing would ever happen to someone that brought the hospital hundreds of millions of dollars annually. He was fine.
Lizzy turned around and looked around for Jane. She would know something was not right. She would see this! This is absolutely ridiculous! A professional fundraiser was hurting her in a church! Maybe she had worked so hard that she finally had lost it. Maybe her exhaustion had turned her into a lunatic! No, she might be tired, but this was happening. She knew it.
They continued to walk slowly down the aisle and Collins was starting to dig his nails into Lizzy's forearm as they reached the side door. He wanted her to know that he was going to win. All he had to do was make this irritating twit go away.
He pushed the church door open and led Lizzy to the side of the church where the small chapel attached to the main building. Away from the parking lot, it was just Collins and Lizzy. Ordinarily, this part of the grounds would have been a peaceful refuge for someone, but to Lizzy it was a dangerous place. She scanned Collins' face and tried to draw out her most assertive voice and said, "Collins, this is preposterous. If you want to approach these people for money, send them a letter in a few months. You are going to take your hand off my arm. You are hurting me. You are going to release my arm and we are going to talk about what is happening."
"And you will skip right back into that church and mess everything up. Then you'll go straight to Myers and the hospital and then I'm done. No. I've got to think a minute."
Collins hadn't guessed any of this would happen. Why was she even at this funeral? He took out his handkerchief and wiped his face with one hand and twisted Lizzy's arm with his other. He was concentrating. His "once in a lifetime" was thirty feet away and here he was, wasting time, while all that money was waiting for him in the church.
His eyes were moving rapidly as he thought about all his choices, and Lizzy tried to use his preoccupation as a chance to power her arm out of his. She had it almost out and was ready to get away, when he seized her other arm. He was twisting it in a direction that it wasn't meant to move. Is this what a broken arm felt like? Her head was throbbing. Her stomach was so knotted up she wanted to double over. She had to make him let her go. Everything was escalating and she wanted away. She pushed her knee into his groin as hard as she could. He fell against her and sandwiched her between his body and the cinderblock wall. Collins howled. Lizzy felt helpless. Her stomach hurt so much. This man, someone she had endured for seven years, was leaning on her. She closed her eyes. It was at that moment that she was freed.
An arm was leading her away. This arm wasn't attached to Collins. She looked up. Dr. Darcy? It must be. She recognized his Armani suit.
Posted on Tuesday, 11 January 2005
Collins was on his knees holding his crotch and rocking himself back and forth next to the church wall. Someone she didn't recognize was a few feet away from him and studying him. Whatever Collins was saying was difficult for Lizzie to hear. If she had tried harder, she could have made out more of his words, but she felt her senses so overly stimulated that she was trying to shut down as much as possible and just work on slow, steady breathing and presenting the calm image she wanted. Her lungs were fighting with her stomach. She felt like she wanted to gulp big breaths, but when she did that, the muscles of her stomach contracted even more sharply and she felt little shivers race to her face. There had to be a way to make both her lungs and her stomach happy.
Her mind was a whirl of thoughts descending upon her at light speed. She resolved that her sole objective was to walk steadily, thus she drew herself up as tall as she possibly could. Knowing that she would have to see Dr. Darcy so often made her want to do all of this with as much decorum and control as possible. She knew he wouldn't forgive her after her insults anyway, and she couldn't live with him thinking she was a ninny.
She lost her balance for a fraction of a second when the height of the concrete changed under her feet. She made a mental note to watch for more of those cracks in the sidewalk. Stupid concrete! She lifted her eyes and noticed the stained glass window that had been near her pew.
So far Dr. Darcy hadn't spoken. At least, she was pretty sure he hadn't spoken yet. His left hand was resting on her right forearm and he was walking slowly. Lizzy remembered the last time she had walked this slowly...she was ushering Sharon Morgan to her office the day Mark died.
Darcy had taken a cursory inventory of Elizabeth Bennett. He hadn't seen any gross injury so far. She was able to walk, but her skin was still markedly pale. Her hair needed combing, and the sleeves of her sweater were stretched out of shape. He felt her fingers and they were very cool and slightly clammy. Without trying to be obvious, he rested his index finger on the inside of her radius to feel her pulse. It was bounding, but not alarmingly so, considering what had just happened. She was bent over in the slightest little degree. Most people wouldn't have noticed that she was using her accessory muscles to breathe. He did, and because he knew it would fatigue her eventually, he wanted to sit her down and maybe then he would start to speak.
He was aware of her over-stimulation. In his professional experience, he realized that extreme stress seemed to affect the senses like a stereo amplifier. It didn't matter if it was the physiological stress of a broken leg, or labor contractions, or a deep laceration. Too much talking from even a soft, gentle voice could sound like a battering. He would talk to her quietly. Of course, there had been times, perhaps during an especially difficult delivery, when he needed to get his patient's attention and raise his voice, but that was uncommon. He wondered if that was the reason he raised his voice in other situations. Darcy remembered how loud he'd been when he saw this woman the first time. He was furious at the hospital when he saw her, but he had been diverted from his fury when she spoke to him. He had remembered her radiance many times since. She had a classically beautiful face.
They were a few paces from the side door now. Glancing down at Elizabeth Bennett's head, he was wondering if this petite, quiet woman was the same lady that had stood up to him and spoken in such a self-assured manner. She had seemed so much taller; perhaps her words had magnified her in his memory. He imagined that in her present silence, she was viewing and rewinding the events of the past ten minutes over and over.
As they reached the door into the main church, Dr. Darcy pulled on the handle and they stepped onto the carpet together. He whispered, "Miss Bennett, are you injured? I would like to help. We can do a number of things about this. My office isn't far; we can go there, or we can go to work if you need x-rays. I am concerned that you have been hurt."
"I'm sure I'm fine...nothing that a really big nap won't cure. I woke up with a headache, but I'll grab something at home for it," she replied in a small voice.
"Lizzy?"
Jane caught a glimpse of her sister and was relieved to have finally located her. She had been everywhere in the church and couldn't find her. Dr. Darcy continued to escort Lizzy into the mostly deserted church. Darcy noticed that Miss Bennett increased her gait when she saw the blonde coming over to her. Darcy kept his arm on hers and tried to interpret the forced look on Lizzy's face. He thought she was trying too hard to smile. He led her to the nearest pew and motioned for her to sit.
He walked back over to the side door and spoke quietly with the man Lizzy had noticed watching Collins when Darcy had brought her inside. Darcy handed the man his cell phone and nodded to him twice. The stranger shut the door to go back outside and Darcy stepped back to Lizzy.
"I have told my cousin to call the police to deal with the matters outside. He'll also be calling the hospital. Apparently, that man works there as well?"
"Yes, he does. What will happen then?"
"The police will probably 5150 him to a psyche unit on a 72 hour hold, unless they book him for assault first and house him in the hospital unit at the jail. I'm not sure what they will do."
Lizzy was conflicted about this part. She knew Collins was nuts, but she could imagine all of this turning into a huge mess of reports and interviews that she knew would be exhausting.
She feared that by the time this story had made the rounds at the hospital, the truth wouldn't exist anymore and the embellishments would be grand, indeed. The lifespan of this story would be years, not days. Lizzy was relieved, however, that the Morgan family had been spared this, since they had been transported to the cemetery for Mark's committal service. That was positive. At least this had been worth it. She thought for a moment and then realized she should say something.
"Dr. Darcy, excuse me, please. I'd like to introduce you to my sister. I have forgotten my manners. Jane is a registered dietician at the hospital. Dr. Darcy, this is my sister, Jane. Dr. Darcy is one of Charlotte's favorite doctors up on L and D."
Jane extended her hand to Dr. Darcy and said, "I'm pleased to meet you, Dr. Darcy."
Jane was both pleased and confused. While she was relieved that she finally knew Lizzy's whereabouts, she didn't expect her to be with a man, and her sister seemed very synthetic in her greeting. Jane, too, sensed that Lizzy was trying too hard to present some sort of image to those around her.
"Lizzy, where have you been?" Jane now was convinced something horrible had just happened.
Elizabeth was going to hold this together. She was the queen of composure at work, and she would retain that title now. She would tell Jane; but she would tell it in her way. She would simply wrap it up in some trademark "Lizzy humor" and package it like another crazy ER story. After all, Jane always found the humor in the stories Lizzy told her at night. This would be nothing different.
Lizzy grinned and blinked, "Well, I came in here to sign the book, and you wouldn't believe who I found. You probably won't be able to guess, but our favorite Director of Charitable Donations decided to invite himself to a funeral." Lizzy tried to say it with as much funny expression as she could, and she watched Jane's face to see if it induced her to smile.
Jane was watching Lizzy fake her way through this. She looked at Lizzy and at Dr. Darcy, and back at Lizzy again.
Elizabeth continued, "I guess he thought that the family would want to donate some money in Mr. Morgan's memory. I thought that his timing needed a lot to be desired, and you know me, never afraid to stir things up, and he thought that we should go outside and talk about it. He seemed pretty upset and a bit insistent. We continued to disagree, and Dr. Darcy brought me back in."
Jane had listened to every word, and held her breath when Lizzy was finished. She thought, "Something much more than that happened, and I am not fooled for a second, Lizzy."
Lizzy was surprised Jane wasn't saying anything. At that moment, the three of them turned to the back of the church to see Fr. Perry, Fr. Gregory and two police officers hurrying through the church to the chapel. Jane could see them unlocking a small door and conferring with each other. One of the officers started to walk over and Dr. Darcy met him near the altar. The officer was scribbling on a field interview notebook and nodded his head a few times. Dr. Darcy pointed over to Jane and Lizzy. After signing something, he handed the officer what looked like a business card and shook his hand.
Lizzy was determined to get the attention off of her. She wanted to go home and change into sweats and forget everything. More than that, she wanted to be alone for a bit. She didn't want to answer questions she had already answered. And she needed something for her headache. She was afraid that if she asked Jane for something out of her purse that Jane and Dr. Darcy would overreact and make it worse for her. She'd just have to get something at home out of her medicine cabinet that she had nicknamed her "over-the counter war-chest."
"You know what," she piped up, "I want to run to the bathroom, and then we can all just leave this church. I've been here more than long enough. Does that sound good?"
Jane didn't know what else to do, so she slowly nodded.
Darcy had returned from his conversation with the police in time to hear Lizzy's words. "Not so fast, Miss Bennett," he said to himself.
"Miss Bennett, the police will want to know about your physical condition. Their report will require it, I'm afraid. I really must insist that you have a physician see to you. I also told the police officer that I would sign a 5150 authorization committing Mr. Collins for 72 hours as I was a physician that had witnessed his...condition. They will need to talk to you for a statement, but for now you don't need to be interviewed."
This was flustering to Elizabeth. She must think. "Dr. Darcy, please call me Elizabeth, and it is so wonderful of you to help, but I truly, truly promise you that I am just fine. I'm a nurse, after all, and if there was something amiss, I would know it. Other than being a bit tired, I'm going to write this day down as being "highly unusual" and leave it at that. I'm absolutely sure I'm not injured. With that, Elizabeth pulled herself into a standing position and started in the directions of the ladies' room.
Lizzy suddenly stopped walking and returned to Dr. Darcy. She gave his arm a quick pat. She knew she needed to say more. "I want to thank you for...outside it was...thank you ...I am so glad that you came... It... was very kind ." Lizzy turned around before Dr. Darcy could respond, and she walked slowly to the restrooms, holding her head up as high as she could.
Darcy and Jane watched silently. Jane asked, "Dr. Darcy, my sister has a very strong personality, and I know something isn't right. Would you please tell me what has happened? I'm afraid my sister is leaving out some details."
Darcy, fully aware of the "strong personality" of which Jane spoke, related what he knew. "I had remained in the church after most of the people had left for the cemetery. My cousin and I had come together and we both had decided to attend the funeral only and skip the graveside. I saw your sister return to the church and she looked quite upset, or bewildered, and she was ultimately standing near the front of the church with this man. He looked like a very strange fish. I didn't think he was a friend of your sister's from their body language. She seemed very tense. It was so obvious from her tension that something was amiss. When I saw him grab her arm, I knew it wasn't a friendly gesture, and my cousin felt the same way. We weren't sure what to do, but it just looked very strange. We decided to follow them. The gentleman looked menacing and your sister looked ashen.
I know this church, and the door he was taking her to leads to a secluded courtyard. I'm glad we followed them, because he was indeed treating your sister in quite a rough and alarming fashion. He had hold of both her arms and was pressing her into the church wall, preventing her from leaving. She was struggling and needed some help. I assisted her and took her back into the church. My cousin offered to stay outside and keep an eye on Collins."
Jane was ill. "The man who was hurting my sister is the Director of Charitable Donations at the hospital. His name is Bill Collins. Like most hospitals, fundraising has become critical, but he is such a creep about it that everyone despises him. Lizzy is as kind as she is smart, and would never want him to approach family for money at a funeral. That's why she must have run into the church. She was trying to head him off."
Darcy processed this and Jane continued, "My sister was so upset about Mark's death that she asked me to attend his services with her. I know she was broken up about it. She would have been beside herself if Collins had upset the family."
"Had she known Mark and Sharon long? Darcy inquired.
"No, she met Sharon at the hospital after the accident and tried to help her out that day. As busy as she is, Lizzy always has an eye for people that are hurting and she does everything she can think of to help. She is an excellent nurse...an excellent person"
It was clear to Darcy that Lizzy's sister loved her in much the same way he loved his own sister. He understood this kind of love. He respected this kind of love.
Dr. Darcy reflected for a moment. He asked, "Does your sister live near? I ask because I told the police that I would assume responsibility for getting her home safely and ensuring treatment if needed. If you would allow it, my cousin and I can follow you to your home. Your sister may be correct about being fine, but I'd feel much better if we ourselves didn't assume."
Elizabeth was making her way back from the bathroom to Dr. Darcy and Jane. She felt sure that she had been the subject of their conversation the entire time she had been at the ladies' room. Being talked about always made her feel awkward and uncomfortable. She was thinking of what witty thing she would say upon her return when a familiar knife-like pain struck behind her right eye. Her hand instinctively drew up to hold her eye and she stood, bending over, willing the sensation to stop.
Darcy and Jane were at her side in a heartbeat. She had experienced headaches like this since she was a teenager; she knew that it would go away as quickly as it had come, but they still distressed her. She knew that they were benign, but they were also excruciating. She was comforted in knowing that they disappeared on their own in a moment or two. Sometimes they announced a migraine.
"Lizzy, what's wrong. Tell me what's wrong!" Jane begged. Lizzy held up her free hand and said tightly, "Just give me a second. You've seen me have these before. No big deal. It will be gone in a second. Just relax."
Just as Lizzy had predicted, the stabbing pain behind her eye lessened in severity in a minute or two. She took her hand down and took a deep breath. She leaned on a pew and picked at a piece of lint on her sweater.
Dr. Darcy spoke first, "Miss Bennett, I'm sorry, Elizabeth, your sister and I have discussed while you were in the restroom what we should do...are going to do... next. Clearly, you are having some untoward symptoms that are affecting you. I know that you don't feel that you need to be seen in the ER, and I can understand your reservations. We can make the decision about visiting the ER as the afternoon continues. I have every confidence in your nursing skills, but sometimes we are less than impartial when we are caring for ourselves. Your sister agrees with me that we will take you home, as you have requested, and I will be accompanying you in the event you can benefit from the services of either myself or my cousin, whom you have yet to meet. He is also a physician, an anesthesiologist. As soon as he returns with my cell phone, I will introduce you. He drove me here today."
Elizabeth realized it was useless. With Jane on Darcy's side, she had no chance of winning any argument. It was best, she decided, to agree so she could climb into her bed as soon as possible and close her eyes. She had never in her life wanted anything as much.
Another set of footsteps broke her from her thoughts. "Elizabeth and Jane, I would like you to meet my cousin, Charles Bingley. Charles works mostly out of St. Luke's, but if I do it right, I might be able to convince him to switch over to Cook County."
Jane smiled and said, "Dr. Bingley, it is a pleasure to meet you." Elizabeth extended her hand and replied, "Happy to meet you, Dr. Bingley."
Dr. Darcy spoke next, "I know Elizabeth would like to leave. Let's do this. Jane says your apartment is about ten minutes away. Jane, can you drive Elizabeth, and Charles and I will follow? Are we agreed?"
Jane nodded and wrapped her arm around Lizzy's. Lizzy protested in her ear, "Jane I am fine. Please. This is embarrassing."
Dr. Darcy walked on Elizabeth's left side and Jane walked on her right. Jane was no longer holding Lizzy's arm, but both Jane and Dr. Darcy felt better flanking Lizzy in the event walking to the car was too much for her. She was slowly growing more pallid as Elizabeth tried to imagine a day that had been more fatiguing than this.
Jane and Elizabeth's apartment was on a fashionable street and they had decorated it in a simple yet sophisticated way. Of the most vital importance to both of them was choosing furniture that was well-made and comfortable. That it was visually appealing was an added bonus. Because of the hours they spent on their feet, they had agreed that their home would be warm and embracing when they returned from work at night. Their apartment was spacious and airy. The city views their windows provided were breathtaking. It was their home, and they loved being there.
Dr. Darcy, Dr. Bingley and Jane escorted Lizzy out of the elevator and to the door of their apartment. Lizzy knew she was close to her bed now; she could barely contain herself as Jane put her key in the lock. The four of them walked in and Jane invited their guests to make themselves comfortable. Dr. Darcy noticed that the apartment was impeccably clean and beautifully furnished. It wasn't ornate or flamboyant, just solidly attractive.
Lizzy couldn't believe how this day had evolved. It seemed like it had been days since she had left the apartment, instead of hours. She excused herself and hoped that Jane would take up responsibility for small talk. Entering her bedroom, she shut the door behind her and leaned on it. She slipped off her pumps and pulled down her skirt and hose. Her favorite sweatpants and Northwestern sweatshirt were folded on her dresser, waiting to be put away. "Finally, something has gone my way," Lizzy murmured to herself as she pulled the warm fleece shirt over her head and tied the drawstring of her sweatpants. Next, she pulled warm, white crew socks onto her feet.
Once she was in more comfortable clothing, she walked into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. She wanted something for her headache that was now beyond throbbing. She opened a bottle of ibuprofen and shook out a tablet. She decided she would double her usual dose. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Her hair needed a brushing, and she undid the clip holding her ponytail. Her hair was dark and glossy and her curls tumbled and relaxed.
She was finally alone in her own bedroom. As much as she loved her Jane, she was glad to have just herself for company. Dr. Bingley turned out to be very nice and cheerful, and Dr. Darcy had been almost doting in his attention. She knew they were there to help, but she hadn't had a chance to sort through everything that had happened with Collins yet. She could feel her emotions catching in her throat. It was so surreal. She felt bombarded by so many different feelings she didn't know what to do with them. At least she was out of her dress and heels. That was a start.
As far as her "company" out in the living room, Lizzy was conflicted. What was expected of her? Should she act as a polite hostess and prove to them once and for all that she had emerged from her experience unscathed? Should she stay in her room and rest? Would that seem rude after the time they had spent to watch over her? If only that ibuprofen would kick in. She ached, not only in her head, but also where Collins had grabbed her arms and dug in his nails.
Unsure of what to do next, she decided to check her appearance once more in the bathroom mirror and rejoin her sister and the gentlemen in the living room. The longer she stayed in her room, the more she was afraid they would continue to think something was the matter with her.
She carried herself into the living room and surveyed. Jane had, indeed, acted as a good hostess and provided Dr. Darcy and his cousin with iced tea and a plate of muffins. The three of them looked a bit stiff as they were sitting around the kitchen table. They looked more like they were at a hospital meeting than at an apartment. Dr. Darcy and Dr. Bingley rose when Elizabeth entered.
"Are you more comfortable, Lizzie?" Jane asked. Elizabeth nodded and sat down at the kitchen table's empty seat. It was very quiet. Elizabeth was hoping someone would say something. Dr. Bingley smiled warmly at her. "Um, Miss Bennett, my cousin mentioned that you are one of the administrators at the hospital. Do you enjoy it?"
Lizzy smiled as much as her headache would allow her and said, "I do enjoy it very much. I supervise the ER and I'm blessed to work with wonderful, professional people. And you are an anesthesiologist?"
"That I am. I mostly do OB, and that is how I manage to spend so much time with William, here. We used to spend a lot of late nights together, but now that William is seeing so many patients at Cook County, I need to make appointments to see him, it seems."
Dr. Darcy had been watching Elizabeth and noted that her face was growing pale once more. He asked, "Miss Bennett, it is long past lunch. Would you like to eat some crackers or a piece of fruit? You might sleep better later if you have something in your stomach." Elizabeth had turned to look at him and saw the corners of his mouth turn upward in the smallest of encouraging smiles.
She looked at the fruit bowl near the refrigerator. She didn't immediately see anything that looked appetizing. "I think you are right. I'm not really hungry for much right at the minute, but I'm sure I'll be starved before long." She looked at Jane and Darcy and Dr. Bingley and smiled wanly. "Actually, to be very honest, I think I would like to lie down. I'm just so tired. I can barely keep my eyes open. I hope you understand."
Jane looked at Dr. Darcy and Dr. Bingley. Again, Lizzy thanked them effusively for their assistance and their time. She truly was grateful, but she was so taken aback by the day that she felt muddled and confused. Dr. Darcy stood up and followed Elizabeth as she left the kitchen. When they entered the living room, he stood across from her and spoke, "Miss Bennett...Elizabeth...before you go to rest, there was something that I did want to ask you."
"Yes?"
"I'd like to ask you to roll up your sleeves for a moment."
"Elizabeth eyed him warily. "Roll up my sleeves?"
"Yes, I want to look at your forearms. It seemed like Mr. Collins was rough with your arms. May I please look at them?"
Not wanting to appear ungrateful, and being too tired to convince him it wasn't necessary, she pushed up her sleeves. At once, he saw the deep, purple bruising in the middle of each forearm surrounded by swollen, puffy red skin. He saw numerous, deep fingernail scratches in the middle of the bruising and swelling. He could see where Collins had obviously twisted this delicate, fragile skin in all directions.
Even though his hands were much larger than Elizabeth's, they were just as soft as hers were and they were soothingly warm. She noted his surgeon's manicure. Dr. Darcy took each of her hands in his and turned it over slowly and carefully. He flexed each finger and inquired if there was any pain. He slowly rotated each wrist and held her arms at the elbows and led her arms through a full range of motion. He absent-mindedly stroked her hand for a moment and set it down at her side.
Elizabeth was surprised at his tenderness, in light of how she had spoken to him in front of so many people at the hospital. Surely, he must resent her to the depths of his soul. How could he not? How could he be so decent and so compassionate after she had attacked him with her words?
Dr. Darcy reached into his coat pocket and took out a pad and started writing. "I'm writing you a scrip for Darvocet in case you need it. If you can't take Darvocet, we could do Vicodin or codeine. Is Darvocet o.k.?
Lizzy nodded.
Dr. Darcy continued. "Your arms may be very sore in the morning, perhaps even your back or shoulders. You know this, but remember about taking the Darvocet with food." He tore off the top sheet and continued writing on the next sheet. "Here is my office's backline number, and my cell and home numbers if you were to need them. Can you think of anything else that you might need? Oh, and you should not go into work tomorrow. I can call for you if you think that might be a problem. You should probably take at least a few days off."
Elizabeth didn't know what to say anymore. She took the two slips from his prescription pad, and raised her eyes to him. At this point all she could manage was a grateful nod of her head and a soft "thank you."
She walked to her bedroom door, turned and said, "This has been a hard day for me. Thank you for everything you have done. I...am in your debt. Thank you, and goodnight."
Dr. Darcy nodded his head and smiled, "Goodnight, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth closed the door behind her and crawled under the heavy covers. She could hear the three of them in the living room speaking in hushed voices. Dr. Darcy was talking about her work schedule. Dr. Bingley was saying something. Jane was asking about hospital something-something." Elizabeth's last thoughts as she drifted off were of Dr. Darcy's warm hands touching hers and the strength of them: the same strength of his hands that had led her away from Bill Collins just hours ago.
Lizzy had slept for only an hour before she heard the insistent knocking on the apartment door. She opened her eyes and instantly closed them. The blazing inside her forehead and behind her eyes was excruciating. She curled herself into a ball and covered her face with her hands. She was sick to her stomach. Dr. Darcy was right - she should have tried to eat something before going to sleep. Lizzy didn't know what felt worse, the nausea or the headache.
She could hear voices in the hall. She recognized them. She started to cry and as the tears fell she prayed, "Please, let them know that I don't want to see anyone! Please tell them I can't do it right now."
Lizzy pulled herself further into a ball and couldn't stop her sobs, but she tried to muffle them. The door to her bedroom opened, and Matt let himself in. Lizzy couldn't open her eyes. The headache overpowered her if she opened her eyes, even though the room was fairly dark.
"Lizzy, it's Matt. I came from work when Jane called. Meegan's here, too.
Lizzy didn't respond. As bad as she felt about it, she wanted him to think she was asleep and talk to him later...tomorrow maybe.
"Elizabeth, it's Matt. Can I turn on a light?"
"Please, Matt, please don't turn on the light."
"Okay, I'll leave it off. Your head?
Lizzy muttered, "My head has never hurt like this. This is the worst one yet."
"When did it start?"
"It started getting bad yesterday."
As carefully and lightly as he could, Matt sat on the bed near his best friend. He took one of his hands and stroked her neck. He could feel her sobs through her back.
Wanting to quiet her with his hands, he kept the one on her back and one on her shoulder. He looked over to her face. Seeing her hands across her eyes, he moved one of his hands on top of hers. He felt her pulse. Her heart was racing.
He sat that way for four or five minutes. Then he spoke softly, "Lizzy, I need to see you. The only way I can see you is with the light on. Could you handle it for a minute or two?"
Talking through her hands, she murmured, "Just don't move my hands."
After Jane's call, Matt had immediately left the ER and rushed to Lizzy and Jane's apartment still in his scrubs. He lay his fanny pack and stethoscope on Lizzy's bed. Warming the end of his stethoscope with his breath, he placed it under Lizzy's sweatshirt and listened. He moved it to different areas of her back and listened to her heart working so hard. Matt carefully guided Lizzy slowly out of her fetal position and helped her straighten out. Lizzy kept her hands covering her eyes, and Matt let her keep them there. He rubbed his hands together to warm them as he had done with his stethoscope and carefully palpated different areas of her abdomen. Her muscles were taught and rigid. He listened to her stomach with his stethoscope. He asked softly, "Your stomach is upset? Nauseated? Vomiting?"
Lizzy responded, "I'm nauseated, but no vomiting."
Matt continued, "Lizzy, I need to see your retinas. I know it hurts; I'll do it fast, but I need to see them. "Would it be better, Lizzy, if I turned off the table lamp? I don't need it to see your eyes."
"I don't care...just get it over with."
Matt decided to turn off the nightstand light and he flicked on his handheld opthalmoscope. Working as quickly as he could, he moved the light back and forth between Lizzy's eyes. He spoke as he examined, "Your nerves are fine, and the retinas are good. No signs of a bleed. I can tell you are having the headache of your life, though."
Elizabeth asked, "Are you done with the light, Matt?"
"Yes, I'm done with the light. I just need you to take your sweatshirt off."
"Matt, no. There's no way."
"Lizzy, I need to see your torso and your arms. You know the routine. You've seen me do it thousands of times."
"I have slight bruising on both arms, nothing bloody. Please, Matt."
"Lizzy, I need to see... to know you're okay. You can leave your bra on." Matt's voice was gentle and supportive. Lizzy hated this, but fatigue and her friend conspired against her. She had long been his friend; she had never been his patient.
Matt had to help Lizzie with her sweatshirt. It was almost impossible to remove it one-handed and she didn't want to take her other hand away from her eyes. Matt was so experienced at looking for injuries inflicted by others that he completed his exam quickly and helped Lizzie put her sweatshirt back on.
"Are you done now," Lizzy asked?
"I've seen what I need to see. Is there anything else you want to tell me, my friend?"
"I have lots to tell you, but I just can't now."
"You can't because you are tired and you can't, or you can't because you just can't right now?"
"I can't because I can't."
"Okay, Lizzie."
She curled back up into her ball, and Matt rubbed her back. Lizzy started feeling her throat choking up and getting tight. Feeling her dear friend comforting her brought out so much emotion in her that she started sobbing once more. He drew himself closer to her and said, "Lizzy, I'm gonna help you."
Lizzy released her sobs and knew her friend was there for her. His hand massaged her back as she cried. He whispered into her ear, "Lizzy, I'm so sorry. I'm really sorry."
"It's not your fault."
"Oh, my Lizzie. I'm so sorry," he repeated.
"Matt, you didn't do anything. Don't apologize."
"Just relax, Lizzie. It'll be okay. I'm sorry." As soon as Matt finished his sentence, Lizzy felt the sting of the needle into her bicep. She could feel the burn of the medication as he pushed the syringe plunger down."
"What did you do?" Lizzy's voice was flat.
Matt wrapped his arms around her and replied, "I gave you one of my favorite cocktails."
Lizzy was already feeling warm. "What did you give?" she asked, as the warmth intensified.
"I gave you 100 of Demerol and 50 of Vistaril."
"I won't be able to work tomorrow. How...am...I...go...work...tomorrow?"
Matt wrapped his arms more tightly around Lizzy and said, "Don't worry about tomorrow. You are off for the next week. Just close your eyes. You're doing fine. Just close your eyes, Lizzy."
Matt didn't leave her until he was sure she was comfortable. He watched her breathe with a rhythm that showed her pain fading away. He thought about what he wanted to do to Collins.
Both he and Meegan slept at their friends' apartment that night. He checked on her every hour.