Saigon, Illinois by Paul Hoover

Author:Paul Hoover [Hoover, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4804-5693-8
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
Published: 2013-10-09T16:03:00+00:00

12

I MET MARTIN BAUM when Romona walked down the hall of Orthopedics with him in tow. He wore a tan manager’s smock, and looked suave and old-fashioned, like Rudy Vallee. His black hair had a spectacular rolling curl, and his clothes and shoes were expensive. Romona said Martin would be taking over Ed’s position on the eleventh and twelfth floors. Dr. Rocks and Normal Cane had wanted Ed’s head because of the missing equipment during the carotid blow, but she’d managed to get him transferred to other units. There was also a problem, she said, with missing drugs. Since so many people had access to the drugs, it was difficult to determine who the culprit was, but suspicion pointed to Ed Grabowski.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Ed doesn’t take drugs. All he cares about is corpses.”

“I know that, and you know it,” she said, “but Norm Cane and the boys from Security have their own ideas. They’re going to be snooping around, so watch your step.”

Romona’s warning was given from the heart. All of us took home some extra drugs now and then, especially those left over when a patient was discharged. They were supposed to be sent back for credit, but usually they would gather for a couple of days at the back of the unit before anyone got around to doing so. Meanwhile, they were open game, and nurses, doctors, clerks, and everyone else helped themselves. Usually it was sleeping pills, and Romona filched them, too.

“How do you like the job so far?” I asked Martin.

“It seems very interesting,” he said, barely disguising his boredom.

Romona wanted me to break Martin in, so she left and I walked him around. I showed him where the supplies were kept, both medical and clerical, where the linen cart was supposed to go, and how to hide from work in the office if you’d had enough for the day. The idea was to bring a good book and close the office door. If anybody wanted you, they could use the paging system.

One of the first things to do on the evening shift was to check the dinner trays. It was mostly a courtesy, like the maître d’ going from table to table, but now and then a patient would have a real complaint. One day, for example, the fresh fruit was an apple, and a patient had his Macintosh delivered with a bite taken out of it. He said it didn’t inspire much confidence in the rest of his food. Our job was to agree with such patients.

We hit the sixth floor first. It was the first time he’d been in a patient’s room, and he entered with cautious reverence, almost tiptoeing through the door. One of the first things you learn when you work in a hospital, I told him, is to forget the patients are sick. After all, they don’t want to be reminded of it, and there’s no real privacy anyway. Just open the door, stroll in, and take care of your business.

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