Page 27 of Broken Dreams

She nodded. “I know Mr. Cooper has had a few rough days lately. Will you keep an eye on my patients for me? This shouldn't take too long.”

“No problem.”

She remembered the last time she'd gone down to the gym, when poor Mr. Goetz had suffered his seizure. As she took the stairs down to the first floor, she wondered if Roland even realized Mr. Goetz had died. Or if he even cared.

She found Mr. Cooper using the parallel bars, trying to walk with his new prosthesis. He had lost one leg due to problems with circulation and he often complained of phantom pain in that leg. It was a common phenomenon, suffered by young soldiers, and those who were more elderly. Once Mr. Cooper had mastered walking with the new prosthesis, he'd be able to return home.

“Hi Mr. Cooper. Here's the pain medication you requested.” A female physical therapist by the name of Emily stood nearby, watching to make sure Mr. Cooper didn't fall. She handed him the paper cup with the pill in it then said, “I'll get you some water, then let you get back to work.”

She turned and caught sight of Nick, lifting weights with his injured leg on the weight room equipment located on the other side of the gym. His green T-shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to his chest and biceps as he fought against the resistance of the weights. Another physical therapist hovered nearby, keeping an eye on him.

After supplying Mr. Cooper with his water, she smiled and approached Nick. He stared at a spot on the wall behind her and made soft grunting noises as he lifted his leg up then down.

“Hey, how are you,” she greeted him. “Are you heading up to the unit later?”

He didn't smile, barely looked at her to even acknowledge she was standing there. With a slight nod he continued to remain totally focused while he exercised his muscles like a man possessed.

She wasn't sure if he'd responded to her question or had simply acknowledged her presence, but clearly, he was too preoccupied for conversation. Swallowing a flare of disappointment, she turned away, leaving Nick to face his demons alone.

Upstairs, Irene was having a tough time working with the social worker to have one of her patients transferred to a nursing home. For the next several hours, Amber was too busy to agonize over Nick.

She finally sat at the computer to complete her documentation when she heard a loud thunk.

What was that? She jumped to her feet and hurried to the room directly across from the nurse’s station, where the emergency light was flashing.

Blood splatters stained the walls, the sheets of the bed, the linoleum and the patient lying on his side on the floor near the foot of the bed. The bed alarm shrilled loudly, and she snapped it off then fell to her knees beside her patient her heart and her throat. “Mr. Krantz! What happened?”

“Ohh,” he groaned and rolled onto his back. Dark brown stains smeared his sweatpants.

“Oh, no, you had diarrhea again, didn't you? You poor thing.” She knew Mr. Krantz continued to be plagued by these episodes where he needed to get to the bathroom in a hurry. But the diarrhea didn't explain where all the blood had come from.

“Please stay still, don't move.” She placed a hand on his arm to hold him in place. Then she reached up to her portable phone. “Page Dr. Roland.”

“Paging Dr. Roland,” the mechanical voice repeated.

Of course the guy didn’t answer. She left a terse message. “Mr. Krantz fell. Please come up to the unit right away.” She ended the call, then raised her voice to be heard in the hallway, “Wendy? See if there are any physicians on the floor, okay? Mr. Krantz fell on the floor.”

“Okay.”

She turned her attention back to her patient. The cut on his forehead had bled, but not much. She moved down to the red spot on his hospital gown and found it. He must have gotten his hand tangled in his IV tubing and pulled it out.

She glanced back over her shoulder. The tail end of the IV catheter was lying in his bed, where the linens soaked up the medication that should have been going into his veins.

“Mr. Krantz, wiggle your fingers and toes for me.” She was afraid to move him in case he'd fractured his hip or his spine. Leaving him on the floor though, bothered her. She threw an impatient glance toward the doorway. What was taking Roland so long? “Tell me what hurts.”

“My hip. I landed on it funny.” The older gentleman's eyes were full of apology. “I know I was supposed to call first, but I didn't think there would be enough time...”

“Shh, it's okay. Don't worry, we'll get you cleaned up and off the floor in a jiffy.” She felt bad for the poor man. Wendy and Irene rushed in, carrying a long backboard.

Between the three of them, they carefully log rolled Mr. Krantz onto the backboard and then lifted him up onto the bed. Amber sent Wendy for a fresh patient gown and sheets so they could get the worst of the blood and diarrhea cleaned up.

“What happened?” Nick’s deep voice made her glance over in surprise. What was he doing here? After his mute act in the physical therapy gym, she assumed he had the day off. But here he was, freshly showered, wearing a green shirt and gray slacks rather than his sweaty gym clothes.

“I’m afraid Mr. Krantz tried to get up by himself to go to the bathroom while he was getting his IV antibiotic. He fell, hit his head on the floor, and may have fractured his hip.” She paused, then added, “He also pulled out his IV.

Nick's brows drew together in a concerned frowned. “Where does he hurt the most?”

“His hip. But I think he'll need his several X-rays to be sure. Maybe of his spine, pelvis and hip. We will need to replace his IV before he goes to radiology unless you think it's OK to wait until after.”

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