students.
Classes had resumed at Miami, so she expected all her students at the hospital for their clinical. And by 6:45, all were there. Cheryl Beth met them at the nurses’ bay. She was proud of her group, having watched them grow in skills and confidence over the semester. Each one was now good enough to care for as many as three patients at once.
Yet now everyone was subdued and the absence of the two girls, even of Noah, was an unspoken weight as they gathered in a semicircle. She thought about leading a prayer, but settled for a moment of silence. It wasn’t much silence, with all the hospital sounds around them, but it would have to do. That only brought her back to her conversation last night with Lauren’s sister: an older bald man was stalking Lauren. The students had been here all semester for their clinical work. Was there any way he had first seen her here?
After the silence, she handed out assignments for the day. Then they listened to report, as the off-going shift briefed the oncoming shift. She tried to concentrate: what went on overnight, what of note occurred the evening shift before, the status of IVs, when the last pain meds were administered, which post-op patients had voided or eaten or been ambulated. The status of wounds. Anything to be expected this shift. She watched the young faces and knew they were struggling to focus, too. She would have to keep a close eye on them today.
She was happy to have heard from Will Borders. That was the best news of the past twenty-four hours. He sounded so shy and tentative, this man who had been so good in the worst situations. It was an attractive feature, considering the usual demeanor of doctors who hit on her and especially of the one she had foolishly had an affair with. Was it an affair? It lacked the fun of a romp. Maybe a fling. Whatever, it had been bad news. With doctors, there was always the undercurrent of power and class when they had relationships with nurses. On the other hand, she knew friends who had dated and married cops. Those hadn’t always worked out happily, either. But this man seemed different. And she realized she was getting way ahead of herself with Will.
She cocked her head at one student to make sure he was listening. They had all heard her lecture. Report was a sacred rite and a critical issue that was too often watered down or violated. When that happened, it was a sure path to get misinformation or no information or to miss vital clues about a patient’s condition. As the quality of care had deteriorated at Memorial, she traced much of it to sloppy report. But she was a stickler.