Healing through story

Tag: ER nurse

shortfiction24 – shot dead in the ER

Riley Rowan did not expect to die in her own ER. The spirits were ready to escort her to the afterlife. Riley had other thoughts.

I hope you enjoy the short story. Comments and Likes are always welcome. And for all you short-film makers out there, my stories are available for rights.

Shot Dead in the ER

Bob Gillen

Riley Rowan’s spirit hovered over her body. Her bloody, lifeless body. The scene in the ER was chaotic. A gunshot victim had succumbed to his injuries, despite the efforts of Riley and the rest of the trauma team. As Riley had been covering the body with a sheet, a security guard escorted an already distraught brother of the victim into the ER bay. Riley had turned to the brother, said “I’m sorry,” when the brother whipped out a handgun  from the waistband of his pants. He shot Riley three times in the chest before the security guard wrestled him to the floor, kicked away the gun and handcuffed him. 

The trauma team rushed to Riley’s side. The trauma doctor found her unresponsive, no pulse. The overhead florescent lights gleamed against the pool of blood spreading across the floor. The doctor called the time of death. 

As the trauma team stood in shock, some in tears, a spirit appeared at Riley’s side. “Hello, Riley. I’m here to escort you to the afterlife.”

“Who’re you?” Riley’s spirit asked.

“I am Jonny Angel. Your escort.”

“Jonny Angel? Seriously?”

Jonny’s spirit took a step back.

Riley ignored Jonny Angel, watched as a degree of routine settled on the ER. 

“Riley, it’s time to move on.”

“No, no. I’m not ready. They need me here.”

“Riley, you’re dead. You can’t do anything for them now.”

“Don’t spirits hang near loved ones? Talk in their ears?”

“Doesn’t happen as often as you think.”

“I gave eighteen years of my life to this ER. I train new RNs. I have to stay.”

“Riley, I repeat. You’re dead.”

“Says you. I can still help here.”

Jonny Angel swirled around Riley.

“Look,” Riley said. “This is my life. Saving people. I don’t want any part of the afterlife.”

“You don’t have a choice. You’re already on your way.”

“Nope. I’m not the kind to sit around all day listening to harp music. I need to be doing something.”

“First of all, there’s no ‘time’ in the afterlife. No one sits around all day, as you say. They simply are.”

“Boring.”

“It’s pure joy…forever.”

Riley’s spirit shook its head sharply. She pointed down to the ER. “This is pure joy. Saving lives.”

“And you did it well. But it’s time…”

“Not yet.” Riley swirled off to the hospital’s operating room. A man lay on a gurney in pre-op, his left leg black with gangrene. She moved close to him, whispering in his ear. “It’ll be okay. No worries.” The man did not react.

She swirled off again, this time to the ICU. An elderly man lay alone in a cubicle, tethered to multiple IVs and lines. Riley hovered next to him. The man opened his eyes. Sensed Riley’s presence. He took a breath. Closed his eyes. Died. Alarms went off and staff rushed to his side. His spirit was already apart from his body. Hovering. Then gone.

“See, Mr. Angel. I can help patients with their illnesses. I can make a difference.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Riley.”

“I’m not going with you.”

“You don’t get to choose.” Jonny said, “Come with me.”

The two spirits moved to the oncology unit. Jonny lead them into a room. A twelve year old girl lay in the bed, her bald head covered with a scarf, tethered to multiple IV lines and monitors. The gir’s mother sat next to the bed, holding the girl’s hand.

“Her name is Meghan. She will pass any moment now.”

Riley saw another spirit appear next to Meghan. Jonny said to the spirit, “I got this one.” The spirit disappeared.

Monitor alarms beeped as Meghan passed. Her mom rushed away tears, got up and stroked Meghan’s cheek. An RN rushed in but it was too late. Meghan’s spirit appeared to Jonny and Riley. 

“Hi, I’m Meghan.”

“Hello, Meghan. I’m Jonny. I will assist you as you pass to the next life.”

“Who’re you?” Meghan asked Riley.

“She’s transitioning too, but somewhat reluctantly.”

“I just died down in the ER. I’m trying to convince Jonny I’m not ready to go.”

Jonny said, “Riley was an ER nurse for quite a while. She was shot by a distraught relative of a gunshot victim.”

“Oh, wow. Right here in the hospital?”

Riley nodded.

“Did you like your job?”

“I loved it. I lived for the thrill of saving lives.”

“You were lucky.”

“Yeah, I was.”

“I was twelve. I never got to reach any of my goals and dreams.”

“What was your dream?”

“To  a marine biologist.”

“That sounds exciting.”

“Who knows? I never got there. And look at my mom. She never got to see me graduate with a degree. Never got to see me work. She didn’t even see me get to grow proper boobs!”

Riley smiled. “I did okay in that regard…And yeah, I was lucky with my life.”

Jonny said, “It’s time.”

Riley said, “Can I see the ER one more time?”

Jonny shook his head. “Afraid not.”

Riley said, “Jonny, I guess you got me. Meghan, see you on the other side.”

The three spirits disappeared.

***

shortfiction24 – luke dumped me last night

Morgan Ward is blindsided by her boyfriend dumping her. It’s all mind-numbing, he had said. All too easy. Morgan doubts herself. Is it me?

This is another story resulting from a story prompt I found last month. I hope you enjoy it. Does it resonate with you? Comments welcome.

Luke Dumped Me Last Night

Bob Gillen

Morgan Ward slumped at her kitchen table, head in hands. The oven timer dinged. Morgan slid her dinner out and plated it. Packaged chicken Marsala and mashed potatoes. The red neon sign on her kitchen wall cast a pinkish glow on the potatoes.

She and her partner Luke had found the neon sign at a garage sale. It read Vacancy.

Luke Perrault dumped Morgan after almost a year together. Now he was gone. Vacancy was a harsh reminder, staring her in the face.

Last night Morgan and Luke had spent a pleasant evening over ribs and beers at their favorite bar. Actually, Luke’s favorite bar, because they served Molson’s Ale. During dessert Luke told her he was leaving. Leaving Southern California. Leaving her. Moving back to his native Montreal. Morgan had felt blindsided. She had no hint of a breakup. 

Luke had told her he missed his native city.

“I miss the struggles in my city. I miss the cold. I miss snow, ice, rain. The challenges to my daily routine. I miss working my way through it all. Life here is too easy.”

“Too easy?” Morgan gulped her beer.

“Yes. Life in Southern California is mind-numbing. Nothing ever changes.”

“Are we too easy?”

Luke nodded. “Yes, we are.”

“Isn’t that the point of a good relationship?”

“Perhaps, for some, but not for me.”

Morgan had wiped away her tears with a greasy napkin. “Give me some time. I can go with you.”

“No, Morgan. I need to do this alone.”

“This is crazy. Why is it wrong for love to be easy?”

“I can’t explain. I have to do this.”

And earlier today Luke had left his furnished apartment behind, and flown to Montreal. Flown back East to immerse himself in the changing seasons. And perhaps a tumultuous relationship with someone else.

Leaving Morgan devastated.

Devastated and uncomprehending.

Vacancy. A welcome sign for many travelers. For Morgan, Luke’s sudden absence created an unwelcome hole in her heart, in her life. Pushing her to wonder why ‘easy’ did not work for Luke. For them. 

Luke had said it was all about him. Morgan wondered, is it about me too? Am I settling for ‘easy’ in my life?

Morgan pushed the food around on her plate, managed to eat some of it. She washed it down with a beer. The last Molson’s Ale left in her fridge. 

My life is not easy. What is Luke talking about?

There was a knock on the back door. Morgan let her friend Debbie in.

“I’m on my home. I only have a minute. Rod said the kids are off the wall today.”

They hugged. “Good to see you. Want a beer? Wine?”

“One beer. Then I go. I heard about your day in the ER. That’s why I stopped.”

They sat. “We lost two patients. One gunshot wound. The other a car accident.”

“I keep telling you. Transfer up to Med Surg with me. Long shifts but we rarely lose anyone.”

Morgan sipped her beer. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you. Luke dumped me last night.”

“Oh shit. No. Why?”

“Life was too easy for him. He suddenly hates LA. He thinks our relationship was too easy.”

“Too easy? Seriously? That MFer!”

“Debbie, am I too easy?”

“Hell no. You have an easy-going personality, but you got a few rough edges too. Who doesn’t?”

Debbie turned to face the neon sign. “Speaking of rough edges, that thing has to go.”

“I was going to keep it. Kind of a fuck-you to Luke.”

“It has to go. Too much of a reminder.”

Morgan shrugged.

Debbie finished her beer. “I gotta go.” She stood, hugged Morgan again.

“Think about transferring. Reduce your emotional stress.”

“Today I couldn’t stop compressions on the car accident victim. She was in her twenties. Dr. Felice had to pull me away. He told me not to come in tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that sounds like you. No way you pick the easy way.”

Debbie left. Morgan got a stepladder and took the neon sign down. She set it outside the back door.

She tossed the empty Molson’s bottle in the trash.

“Easy isn’t me,” she muttered. “It was not me killed this relationship.”

The following morning she showed up for her shift in the ER.

***

shortfiction24 – out of the game

What I’m Writing This Week

Mike Santiago is forced to take time off from his ER shifts to care for his own kidney injury. Being out of the game is not an option for him.

For all those who have to deal…

Out of the Game

Bob Gillen

Mike Santiago took a deep breath, settled back in the treatment chair. “Sorry to be late,” he said to the dialysis tech. “We were slammed with patients on my ER shift.”

“No worries, Mike.” The tech pierced Mike’s non-dominant arm with two needles and started the blood cleansing process. Blood out to the machine, back into his arm.

Mike leaned his head back. 

“Hey,” the man in the chair to Mike’s left said. “My name is Al. I’m here every Monday, Wednesday, Friday at this time. Looks like we’ll be neighbors.”

“I’m Mike. Yeah, this is my first treatment. New to this whole thing.”

“There was a woman in your chair for the last couple of months. Her name was Ellie. She fell down the stairs at her home. She’ll be in the hospital for a while.”

Mike nodded. “I hope I won’t be here too long. Blunt trauma to my kidneys in a car crash. This should be temporary till my kidneys get a rest.”

“Good for you, man. I’m in this for the long haul. Kidneys are shot. My diabetes went undetected for too long. Screwed me up.”

Mike squirmed in his chair. “Three hours of this.”

“What do you do?”

“ER nurse. Dealing with COVID patients all day.” 

“Shit. Hope you stay healthy. We need guys like you.”

Mike closed his eyes. His phone buzzed.

“Mike here…no, I can’t cover anyone. I’m getting dialyzed.”

He hung up. 

“Won’t let you rest, huh?” Al said.

Mike licked his lips. “Haven’t had a day off in four months.” Mike pointed to his abdomen. “That’s how I messed up my kidneys. I fell asleep at the wheel.”

“You need to chill.” Al held up his iPad. “I’m watching TV. I can turn it up if you want to watch with me.”

“I left my tablet home. Sure. What’s on?”

“The Mandalorian. Know it?”

“Heard of it.”

“Sit back. Enjoy.”

Mike turned his head to watch the iPad Al held out for him to see. Al turned up the volume.

I know that voice, Mike thought after a time. The Mandalorian character. That voice? 

Half an hour into the episode it came to him. He said to Al, “That’s the same voice as the The Lone Ranger. Not the Johnny Depp film. The original TV series with Clayton Moore and Jay Silverheels.”

“You’re too young to know that show.”

“My dad watched the reruns all the time.”

 “You’re right, it’s the same vocal tone. Firm yet soft-spoken.”

“If I close my eyes, I see the Lone Ranger.”

Al smiled. “I’m guessing it’s deliberate on the part of the Mandalorian creators. He’s supposed to be a kind of lone ranger, roaming the universe looking for his people. Righting wrongs along the way. Both have their faces masked.”

“You sound like you’re in the business,” Mike said.

Al cocked his head. “Was in the business. A character actor. Retired a few years ago. Had to. Can’t do dialysis and be available for roles.”

“Enjoying your retirement?”

“As much as I can.” Al paused the iPad screen. “I got a small farm up in Ojai. Raise goats.”

“Any money in that?”

“I rent out the goats for brush clearance before fire season. They’ll eat through a whole hillside in a few days.”

I needed to be out of the game.

Mike nodded.

Al continued. “I got the farm early on in my career. I learned that I needed to be out of the game when I wasn’t working. Refreshing myself in nature. If you don’t have boundaries, you’re screwed in the entertainment industry.”

Mike leaned his head back. Without boundaries you’re screwed in any industry.

The tech came over to check Mike’s machine. “Want a blanket? It’s chilly in here today.”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

Al gestured around the expanse of the treatment room. Twenty-five treatment chairs, all occupied. “Look at this. See those faces. How many of them look healthy?”

Mike sat forward, studied the room. “Not too many.”

“Right.”

“You’re talking about quality of life.”

“Yes, I am. I feel pretty good. But man, three days a week, three hours each time, sitting here hooked up to a machine. For the rest of my life.”

“And…”

“And if I stop, I’ll be dead in a week.”

Mike closed his eyes again, leaned back in the chair.

A beeper went off at Al’s machine. The tech stepped over, tweaked a few settings. 

Al kept talking. “You know what I fear the most?”

“I’ll bite. What?”

“When I’m gone, all my memories are gone too.”

Mike sat up and turned to Al. “Don’t you have kids to pass them on to?”

“Yeah, I got kids. Grandkids too. And boxes full of old photos, old family films. That’s just stuff.”

Mike shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

“I got all these memories stuck in my head. Bits and pieces of my life. Stuff that means something only to me. It all goes when I go.”

“Can’t you talk it all into a recorder? Save it for your family.”

“Mike, you don’t get it. It don’t mean anything to anyone else.”

“Like what?”

 Al hesitated. “Here’s one. Years back I was living on the east coast while I auditioned for roles. One night, it was frigid out, almost below zero. I went out to meet a few guys at a bar. Just ahead of me a guy gets hit by a car. He’s lying in the street, his head bleeding. From his clothes, he was probably a homeless guy.”

Mike nodded.

“I go over to see if I can help. I see blood pooling around the guy’s head on the street…but he was lucky. It was so cold his blood was freezing. It stopped some of the bleeding. An ambulance pulled up in a few minutes. They took him away.”

Mike looked at Al. “And…?”

“That’s it. A scrap of memory. I got lots of these scraps. But they got no meaning. See? I spot a guy bleeding in the street one night. That’s it. Nothing more. When I’m gone, so is the memory.”

“Thanks for cheering me up, Al.”

“Just keepin’ it real.”

Mike smiled. “I think I get it, though. Maybe I’ll end up with lots of memory scraps too. Jeez, all the COVID patients who died on my shifts. I’ve already forgotten most of their names, but I see their faces. Their eyes, in their last moments. Dying alone…”

Al gestured to Mike in the treatment chair. “Like I said about myself, buddy, you need to be out of the game when you’re not working.”

Mike tilted his chair back, closed his eyes, took a long breath.

Out of the game when I’m not working…

***

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