Read Online Nightshifted by Cassie Alexander - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cassie Alexander
Ads: Link
fairy-infested cave.
“And over there?” I gestured to my second patient, in a crib on the other side of the room.
“Downs syndrome and RSV.”
“Ahhhhhh.” What the hell was RSV? Some pedidisease. In my mind, I scanned through lecture slides. Respiratory-something-virus, my brain pulled up, relieved. I walked over and peered into the crib. The baby was surrounded by teddy bears that actually seemed cheerful. She had a nasal canula taped to her cheeks and an extra tube, like a ventilation duct in miniature, pointed in front of her nose, with air hissing out, taped atop a teddy bear’s arm. “No lines?” I asked, after scanning nearby for IV poles.
“Nope. Just oxygen. You gotta watch her oxygen saturation—when she sleeps too deep, or rolls away from the blow-by,” the nurse said, waggling the duct-taped teddy bear pressed into service, “she drops.”
Desats, I knew about. “Okay. Got it.” I looked around the room. Not bad so far. I almost felt as confident as I sounded. “What’s up with the German?”
She shrugged. “I think it’s his grandfather, some philosophy professor. He likes to listen to it before he goes to sleep. Also”—and here she scratched at her own cleavage, in a way that indicated she was talking about my own—“he’s a bit of a perv. Hormones and all. His trach is uncuffed so he can talk around it in whispers. He likes it when you lean over a lot. I suggest you pin up.”
“Heh. Thanks.”
She smiled warmly at me, happy to be going home. “Have a good shift.”
A girl could hope.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The two pedi rooms faced each other, like the mirrored sides of a clamshell. Each room was lined with privacy curtains, but I knew if I closed these I’d just make the charge nurse nervous.
The sinks, monitors, and standard room items were at the perimeter of the rooms: ambu bags, pediatric-sized, suction pumps, and the oxygen pumps that were already in use, the baby with her nasal canula, and Shawn with his ventilated trach. Bed right, crib left, and in the far rear corner of each room was a small bathroom for guests. The back wall had two couches if parents were spending the night; thank God both were empty.
I assessed the baby first. Dry diaper, nothing doing. She had spiky dark hair like a troll doll and she was contentedly asleep. I wasn’t going to change that.
I went over to Shawn’s side and waved down at him. He regarded me with the sort of disdain only a preteen can muster. “I’m Edie, your nurse tonight.”
He made a soft noise in response that I couldn’t hear over the rising German. I leaned over. “Duh,” I heard, more clearly.
I did my assessment under his bored gaze. “Do you need anything?” I asked at the end of it.
He cocked an eyebrow. “A blow job?”
“Nice try. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Mom’s dead. Same accident.”
“Um. Sorry to hear that.”
His eyes rolled. “Right.”
After coming to this amazing détente, I felt sheepish. “Well, I’ll be over here if you need anything.” I backed out of his range of view, and did my charting.
Between the sliding glass doors that led into each room was a stretch of desk with a computer and … the Internet.
I sank into the chair and checked to see if the charge nurse could see me—not if I didn’t lean out too far. The night was looking up! Two patients who ought to sleep all night long, and an Internet connection. How lucky was I? Pretty damn lucky, at least until someone needed a diaper change.
I started clicking away on the Web, reading local news, catching up on the things I’d missed while I’d been incapacitated. The murder rate didn’t seem to have gone up, and if there was an uptick in the number of cats going missing, it hadn’t been worth reporting on.
I got into a routine of clicking on a page, reading a paragraph, then glancing over my shoulder at both monitors. Half an hour passed idly by, and Shawn’s German philosophy-loving
“And over there?” I gestured to my second patient, in a crib on the other side of the room.
“Downs syndrome and RSV.”
“Ahhhhhh.” What the hell was RSV? Some pedidisease. In my mind, I scanned through lecture slides. Respiratory-something-virus, my brain pulled up, relieved. I walked over and peered into the crib. The baby was surrounded by teddy bears that actually seemed cheerful. She had a nasal canula taped to her cheeks and an extra tube, like a ventilation duct in miniature, pointed in front of her nose, with air hissing out, taped atop a teddy bear’s arm. “No lines?” I asked, after scanning nearby for IV poles.
“Nope. Just oxygen. You gotta watch her oxygen saturation—when she sleeps too deep, or rolls away from the blow-by,” the nurse said, waggling the duct-taped teddy bear pressed into service, “she drops.”
Desats, I knew about. “Okay. Got it.” I looked around the room. Not bad so far. I almost felt as confident as I sounded. “What’s up with the German?”
She shrugged. “I think it’s his grandfather, some philosophy professor. He likes to listen to it before he goes to sleep. Also”—and here she scratched at her own cleavage, in a way that indicated she was talking about my own—“he’s a bit of a perv. Hormones and all. His trach is uncuffed so he can talk around it in whispers. He likes it when you lean over a lot. I suggest you pin up.”
“Heh. Thanks.”
She smiled warmly at me, happy to be going home. “Have a good shift.”
A girl could hope.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The two pedi rooms faced each other, like the mirrored sides of a clamshell. Each room was lined with privacy curtains, but I knew if I closed these I’d just make the charge nurse nervous.
The sinks, monitors, and standard room items were at the perimeter of the rooms: ambu bags, pediatric-sized, suction pumps, and the oxygen pumps that were already in use, the baby with her nasal canula, and Shawn with his ventilated trach. Bed right, crib left, and in the far rear corner of each room was a small bathroom for guests. The back wall had two couches if parents were spending the night; thank God both were empty.
I assessed the baby first. Dry diaper, nothing doing. She had spiky dark hair like a troll doll and she was contentedly asleep. I wasn’t going to change that.
I went over to Shawn’s side and waved down at him. He regarded me with the sort of disdain only a preteen can muster. “I’m Edie, your nurse tonight.”
He made a soft noise in response that I couldn’t hear over the rising German. I leaned over. “Duh,” I heard, more clearly.
I did my assessment under his bored gaze. “Do you need anything?” I asked at the end of it.
He cocked an eyebrow. “A blow job?”
“Nice try. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Mom’s dead. Same accident.”
“Um. Sorry to hear that.”
His eyes rolled. “Right.”
After coming to this amazing détente, I felt sheepish. “Well, I’ll be over here if you need anything.” I backed out of his range of view, and did my charting.
Between the sliding glass doors that led into each room was a stretch of desk with a computer and … the Internet.
I sank into the chair and checked to see if the charge nurse could see me—not if I didn’t lean out too far. The night was looking up! Two patients who ought to sleep all night long, and an Internet connection. How lucky was I? Pretty damn lucky, at least until someone needed a diaper change.
I started clicking away on the Web, reading local news, catching up on the things I’d missed while I’d been incapacitated. The murder rate didn’t seem to have gone up, and if there was an uptick in the number of cats going missing, it hadn’t been worth reporting on.
I got into a routine of clicking on a page, reading a paragraph, then glancing over my shoulder at both monitors. Half an hour passed idly by, and Shawn’s German philosophy-loving
Similar Books
