Page 104 of Wicked Proposal
“I’m a nurse practitioner,” I answer without looking at her. The words roll right off my tongue from how used I am to saying them. “And right now, I’m treating this patient.”
“You should still wait for the doct?—”
I ignore her and stick the syringe in.
The patient’s eyes flag, then his body goes limp.
“There,” I tell her. “Much better, yes?”
Dr. Kitagawa rushes over. “What’s wrong with this one?”
“Pupils are clean,” I inform her. “He doesn’t have a concussion, but his leg’s broken. He’s also feverish and delirious. Had to sedate him.”
“Good call,” she approves, examining the leg. “Yep, not gonna go two-stepping anytime soon. No head injuries or internal bleeding, though. Lucky guy.”
“Pays to wear a helmet.” The EMT shrugs.
“Less work for all of us,” she agrees. “Alright, take him to ortho and?—”
“—put him on a cycle of antibiotics,” I finish for her, smiling as I hold up a fresh syringe. “Got them right here.”
Dr. Kitagawa’s shoulders slump with relief. “Thanks, Mia. You’re a lifesaver.”
Then she zooms off to the next stretcher.
“Sorry,” the new nurse mutters as we roll our patient into the elevator. “I didn’t mean to question you, it’s just?—”
“Your first day?”
She sighs. “Yeah.”
“Welcome to your fire baptism.” I smile at her and pat her shoulder. “I promise it never gets better, but you do get used to it. Sort of.”
The elevator dings. We head to ortho, where a dozen other stretchers are lying around, waiting to be sorted into rooms we do not have. By the looks of it, it’s gonna be yet another slumber party in the hallway.
“How do you do it?” my new fan asks, starry-eyed. “It was like you knew exactly what to do.”
“I’ve got my secrets.” I wink. “Stick around long enough, and maybe you’ll learn some.”
It’s a lie. Alright, maybe only half a lie. Truth is, when you quit medical school a year shy of graduation, the knowledge tends to stick anyway.
But medical school would have meant a residency. It would have meant years before I got a real salary. Years I did not have.
Not with a tiny life growing inside me.
Still, the E.R. nurse life isn’t so bad. It’s just way less money than I’d have made in the long run. Plus a constant battle to be taken seriously.
Oh, and overtime. Lots and lots of overtime. So much overtime, it barely registers anymore.
Which is why, when I check my watch, I almost have a heart attack.
7:45 P.M.
Shit.
I rush to find Gwen, who’s barking orders left and right at the E.R. entrance. “I am so sorry, but I really have to?—”
“Go.” She waves me off briskly. “We’re sorting the last ones. We’ll manage.”
