Page 2 of Love and Other Mental Health Concerns
Keith is making the rounds to visit with each table. The hospital is so small that he does genuinely know most of his employees, which has its benefits and challenges. How the room has managed to stay civil upon his entrance is really mind boggling to me. God bless the ‘Minnesota nice’ instilled in the people of North River. I am struggling with my composure as he makes his way toward our table. I wasn’t afforded the ‘Minnesota nice’ mindset as part of my upbringing and am mentally kicking my dead mother’s ass (again) for the oversight. Is he trying to swagger?
“Hey Lauren, Marcy! How are things in the emergency department today? Heard it was a little busier than usual!” Ishe serious? Lauren is no help and appears to have frozen to her chair with a crazed look on her face.
“Yeah, busy busy!” I manage. “Ya know, a couple regulars stopped in and there was that accident on Grant Street this morning involving that young couple. Never dull Keith.” He likes being called Keith instead of Mr. Watson. He had explained to me at a cookout, raising money for fetal heart monitors, that it made the employees feel like they could connect with him more. At this moment, it seems like he is trying to connect by creating traumatic flashbacks of when MTV celebrated spring break.
“Marcy, I’ll be emailing you about some availability to meet later this week. Some exciting opportunities on the horizon!”
“Okay great, Keith, thanks!” I try to sound enthusiastic, but I’m pretty sure even Keith could sense the sarcasm. Although maybe the hair bleach is running interference on some of his available brain power.
Keith finishes making his way around the room and lands himself at the podium, mid-life Crisis on full display. “Hey everybody, if you all can quiet down, we can get started! North River Hospital, so happy to see your smiling faces on this glorious afternoon!” He welcomes the room like this isThe Price is Right. Lauren and I share our first eye rolls. “As you know, I usually have a lot to comment on at these events, but I plan on being brief for a change. I have a couple quick updates and reminders, followed by an introduction.”
An introduction? Curious. The Hospital has been looking for a new chief operating officer after the last one exited a few months ago following some aggressively open differences in opinion from Keith. As was the case for the COO before that, and the one before that. Not surprisingly, the Backstreet Boy wannabe CEO has some trouble keeping his c-suite satisfied with his management style. Perhaps the next victim willing to risk their sanity has been selected.
“Let me start by saying thank you to everyone that showed up in the town square this past weekend to celebrate Baby Safety Month. The money raised will be donated to the North River Community Center. They will be using those funds to obtain and distribute diapers, wipes, and other essentials to some of our families in town that could use the extra support.” Despite his nonsense, I can’t fault Keith for his enthusiasm for local causes. The same can be said for the North River community in general; they will show up for a cause, no matter how trivial it may sound at times, and they will celebrate, educate, or riot as needed. Although the town is small, the population is well educated, largely due to a small university that calls this place home. This contributes to an overall sense of justice and purpose that hums through the community.
“The upcoming weekends include celebrations for Hispanic Heritage Month, National Preparedness Month, and Suicide Prevention Month, so please check your emails for those tantalizing details!” He continues. “A couple more important reminders, teammates. As Halloween approaches and you are all picking your costumes for the annual hospital party, please consider the following: We are a hospital, and costumes with excessive blood and/or fake organs may be confusing to both staff and patients. Please refrain.” This was an important reminder? Slow news month in North River Hospital. “Also, due to some complaints that HR has started to receive, we will be reviewing the policy implemented last month that states all hospital employees can only drink coffee out of personal reusable mugs, so keep your eyes and ears peeled for some exciting updates on that front as well!” Exciting updates on the coffee mug policy? This meeting is more painful than usual.
Just as my mind starts to wander toward ducking out early and hopping on my bike back to town, Keith’s tone changes. “Without further ado, I want to get to the meat and potatoes oftoday’s gathering and introduce an individual that the board of the hospital is very enthusiastic to have join our team for the next few months.” Board of the hospital, as if to clarify that he is not feeling enthusiastic. “As you know, North River Hospital, like so many small hospitals around the country, is struggling to find footing in the current payor and political climates. To give North River the greatest opportunity for success, we have teamed up with Clubhouse Consulting out of Ohio, to help get us on a clear and strong path.”
Lauren huffs and quietly comments, “Great. Another robot contingent to swoop in, make their observations on a hospital and community they know nothing about, and leave. They will take a huge check with them, though!”
“What do you mean?” Although I have lived in North River all my life, this is only my third year at the hospital as the only social worker, so I’m not exactly sure what is happening.
“This is textbook Keith. Every few years he will pay a bunch of money to have some company come in and tell us information we already know, just to appease the board and show them he wants to make strong changes in the name of patient care and hospital viability. We get watched by hawks in suits for a few weeks, who will barely say a word, and then vanish into the wind before the holidays. Don’t want to be stuck here for our shitty endless winter!” Lauren rolls her eyes and pops some nicotine gum in her mouth.
I haven’t seen this process play out at North River Hospital but am intelligent enough to put the pieces together and to use Google. “They are paying this firm six figures!?” I squeaked.
“Uh yeah, nice right?” Lauren sympathizes.
“But think of all we could do with those funds,” I whined and sunk back into my chair. “Keith doesn’t want to pay for coffee cups, but he would throw half a million dollars at some out-of-touch know-it-alls to play Mr. Fix it?” I start to spinthe several simple, silver rings adorning my hands. When I am anxious, I spin those babies like tops to try and still my nerves. I have turned my hands into fidget spinners for adults.
“Sums it up pretty well. While getting a firm pat on the ass from a board, which is probably the most physical contact he has gotten in a decade.” We both get a decent giggle out of that thought.
“Well, shit.” I mutter to myself. While I dream that the board understands the immense need for social services in our community, I also understand that if choices start to be made between the desires of the surgical team and my goals for expanding mental health care, I will quickly kiss my pennies good-bye.
I scrap my plan to leave early and decide I should pay attention to this stranger that will potentially determine my future as a social worker in this town. Let’s be honest, there isn’t a ton of opportunity here if the hospital decides I am no longer imperative.
Keith is still rambling as I re-gain my focus and sit forward. “So here he is, Mr. Nicholas Anderson. Nicholas, take it away!”
And with that signal, a set of broad, suited, shoulders rise above the crowd and make their way toward the stage. Wait…who is this and how did I not notice him earlier? I’m tall, but he is much taller, with a neatly styled mop of short, dark blond hair, and a tidily maintained beard. Even from the back of the room, I can see his eyes were a brilliant blue, highlighted by the navy in his jacket. He is built like a rugby player but dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. As he approaches the podium, his pants catch just tight enough against his ass to spark some inconvenient thoughts in my brain.
And then he smiles.
Oh god, like he’s trying to power the damn sun.
“Holy shit, “Lauren breathes. “I take back anything negative I said about the consultants. That man is divine. He can stay as long as he wants. In fact, he can share my chair at the nurse’s station.” She fans herself dramatically with a pamphlet on blood donation.
“He’s okay I guess…If you are into that tall and devastating type.” I had to get it together. This guy is here to seek and destroy, to cut programs and spending, and meet a bottom line. He isn’t here to do what is best for the hospital or the patients, certainly not regarding any mental health or social service objectives. I need to immediately forget the pressure I am suddenly feeling in my lower stomach.
“Good afternoon, everyone, thank you so much to Keith for that introduction. As he mentioned, I am here to help get North River Hospital functioning at its optimum capacity, while improving patient care and not losing sight of the bottom line. I’m aware you are all thinking I am here to slash and burn, and let me be clear, that is not the goal. I want to make sure the funds available are spent most effectively, and I want to see where we can make more money for this hospital system. During these next few months, please think of me as a partner in shared goals, and don’t hesitate to reach out with any questions or concerns you may have. You will see me wandering your halls, dropping into meetings, and hopefully I will be getting some one-on-one time with most of you. I don’t bite, so don’t be afraid to say hello and introduce yourself when you see me. Also, the name is Nick. Thank you for your time!”
“He doesn’t bite? That’s too bad,” Lauren whispers into my ear and I can’t help but feel a blush in my cheeks as we both hold back a laugh.
He finishes by flashing a smile, and I hate to admit it but there was genuine glint in his eyes. He delivered his speech with an annoyingly positive demeanor, all sunshine and rainbows.The room offers a quiet and awkward smattering of applause, no doubt due to everyone feeling on edge with his presence.
As the stranger, now known as Nick, turns from the podium, my brain is reviewing all the ways in which this man was a risk to me, my livelihood, and necessary services for the people of North River. My anxiety revs to high gear, rings twirling on my fingers a mile per minute. Simultaneously, my damn curiosity is encouraging me to pretend to read one of these pamphlets on blood donation, while I lean across the table just enough to get another glimpse of his ass as he approaches his seat. With my loss of appropriate concentration and overall decorum, I manage to tip myself out of my chair and create a horrifying scene of flailing limbs and disturbingly loud groans as I land firmly on the floor, the contents of my work bag flying everywhere around me.
Before I can get a grasp of what just happened, the glare of the fluorescent lighting is blocked by a figure that I can only describe as solid.
