Page 11 of Broken Dreams

Hours later Nick didn't have any concrete answers. After a shower and a change of clothes, he'd made himself at home in the hospital library, using the computer to find out what he could about standards of practice regarding physician rounds. The only thing he'd learned for certain was that a rehab was a step down from acute care, and as such, the physician was only expected to make rounds every two days, whereas daily rounds were required for inpatient physicians.

Amber had a right to be concerned about the care her patients received, though. He wished there was something more he could do to help.

He did another search and found Roland's boss, the chief of staff, listed as a Dr. Rick Johnson. There was also an opening for a temporary hospitalist in the department of physical medicine. He stared at the job posting for a long time. Interesting. Maybe he could fill in for a while, to give him something constructive to do. And perhaps help Amber at the same time. Of course, he'd have to run this idea past his boss back in Virginia first. Somehow he didn't think Steven White would mind. Before he could chicken out and change his mind, he placed a call to his boss. Steven wasn't in so he left a brief message.

Turning his attention back to the computer he did another search under Dr. Douglas Roland all he found out was that the guy had apparently been at the hospital here in Milwaukee for the past six years, the last two as the medical director. How had the guy managed to get promoted was a mystery. Unless he'd only started to slack off once he'd obtained the medical director role.

Glancing at his watch, he was surprised to note the hour was already past noon. Amber’s shift probably ended at 3:00 if they were doing eight-hour shifts, rather than twelve. There had been a mishmash of schedules back in Virginia, so he couldn’t be sure. He’d grab something to eat in the hospital cafeteria, then wander up to the rehab unit to find her.

Anticipation tightened in his belly even though he knew better than to think of Amber on a personal level. She was far too good for him. He was impressed with her skills as a nurse. That morning she'd been all business, her grave expression betraying her genuine concern for her patient. He'd gathered from her letters how seriously she took her responsibilities, which was the main reason he'd expected someone older.

One of my patients died three days after we discharged home. He took his own life, Shane. I can't stop thinking about it. I should have looked harder to find a hint of his depression. I even went back into the system to review all the nursing notes, but I wasn't the only one who missed it. We all did. Or maybe we simply didn't want to see how depressed he was, I don't know. There is no way to go back and fix things now, but this young man's death weighs heavily on my conscience. I pray for him and others who may be suffering the same illness, every night.

For some reason her brief story stayed with him. Maybe because he could relate to the depression that kid must have felt. With the help of Amber's letter, he had been able to recognize his own feelings and fight off the black cloud when it loomed too close.

He was secretly relieved she didn't have any clue how much he'd hung on her every word.

The cafeteria was crowded. He tried to skirt around a group of medical students, and nearly dropped his tray on the floor when he tried to balance the thing with one hand while leaning on his cane with the other. He managed to set the tray down on the nearest vacant table, but his chest burned with pent up frustration. He was barely self-sufficient. How much longer would he have to limp around before he'd be back to his normal self?

Maybe forever.

Bile rose into his throat and he forced it back with several deep breaths. No, he refused to believe the worst. He was truly thankful for his life, but was it so wrong to want his old career back?

Ignoring the hospital employees seated at various tables around him, he concentrated on swallowing each bite of his food without tasting a thing. Protein equaled strength, and strength would lead to building and repairing his torn and injured muscle mass. He didn't dare miss a meal, no matter how much he didn't feel like eating. He pushed away the haunting thoughts about his career, or lack thereof, and focused on what he needed to do to get through the day.

The hour was close to three when he finally made his way upstairs. He stopped at the information desk in the lobby to find out where the rehab unit was located. He assumed it wouldn't be too far from the physical therapy gym and, in fact, the unit was located just one floor above it.

He didn't see Amber in the hallway, but the familiar clinical scent stopped him cold. Ugh, how could he have forgotten? Hospitals always carried the strong scent of antiseptic, but this was different. The scent of urine was stronger here, probably because many of the patients were unable to take care of their most basic needs.

His fingers tightened on the head of his cane. A few short weeks ago, he'd been one of them. The smell brought back a flood of memories, none of them good. Forcing himself to move, he walked slowly down the long hall toward the nurse’s station. He noticed a few patients, mostly men, sitting in wheelchairs in the hallways, or in the doorways to their rooms. But he didn't see anyone from the nursing staff.

Then he understood why. Change of shift meant nurses were giving report to each other, as they transferred care from one shift to the next. He stood awkwardly, feeling stupid and trying not to dwell on the horrible memories of being a patient himself.

All his instincts shouted at him to leave, to get out of there before someone realized they'd made a mistake by discharging him too soon and tossed him back into a hospital bed.

He licked his dry lips and tried to remind himself he was a doctor, not a patient. He'd have to get used to being in the hospital environment again. Difficult to be a physician if he wasn’t working in a hospital setting. He needed to put those painful memories of being a patient aside once and for all. Better to start now in a different rehab unit than the one he'd spent time in.

Despite his internal pep talk, standing amidst the rehab patients was far from easy.

Amber finished her report, then walked out to the front of the desk. Now that her eight-hour shift was over, she wanted to head over to the ICU to check on Mr. Goetz. During her lunch break, she'd gone to see him but he'd been down in radiology, having an MRI scan of his head. All day, she'd wondered how he was doing.

“Hi, Amber.”

Surprised, she glanced over to see Nick standing on the opposite side of the nurse’s station. Her pulse kicked up a notch when she saw him. He'd showered, shaved and changed from the gray sweat pants and T-shirt into khaki pants and a dark blue polo shirt. It seemed wrong that he had the power to take her breath away. No matter what he wore. She tried to sound casual. “Hey, Nick. What are you doing up here?”

“Just being nosy, I guess. Do you have a minute to show me around the unit?” Nick held her gaze with his.

Part of her wanted to refuse. She needed, for the sake of her sanity, to check on Mr. Goetz. But if there was a chance Nick could help her get someone's attention about Dr. Roland, she decided she'd better take it.

“Sure. Just give me a minute to grab my purse.” She turned back to the report room to fetch her purse from her locker. Then she rounded the desk and approached him. As he had that first night, he stood painfully straight, holding onto his cane. Up close, the tangy sent of his aftershave teased her senses. She almost leaned forward to inhale more deeply, then caught herself. What was wrong with her? She cleared her throat. “We have a thirty bed rehab unit.” She gestured to one hallway. “The brain injury patients are normally housed in the center wing, the musculoskeletal injuries are on the right.”

Nick frowned. “What happens if one of the head injury patients wanders off?”

“We have alarms that sound if a patient leaves the unit unattended,” she assured him. “We use a wander guard type of system. Trust me the alarm is loud. Every staff member would be alerted if someone left the unit.”

Seemingly impressed, he nodded. “Good.”

“The dining room is at the end of this hall.” She headed down that way, although there weren't too many patients seated in the dining room area at this hour. “We think it's good for them to get out of their rooms to eat in a common place.

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