8
Tuesday, June 6, 2006 – 6:32 a.m.
Aspen Memorial Hospital – Room 507
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Jiggling and wiggling like an over-sized bowl of refrigerated Jell-O, Hank Maverick’s immense body lay quietly sleeping on the fifth floor of the hospital. Having been moved from the ER the previous night, Hank had been admitted to room 507 in the neurology wing.
Spike had taken care of the admittance, and had chatted some with Hank the night before. Within a half an hour of his being admitted, Spike had had Hank hooked up to the monitors and machines, had checked over his chart, had made Hank as comfortable as possible by bringing him some water, juice and some small snack items from the nurse’s station refrigerator and had asked various questions of Hank necessary to facilitate his recovery despite Hank’s rebellious and gruff demeanor. He then explained that Dr. Slaterbaugh would be in in the morning to check up on Hank and see how he was doing.
It was now 6:32 a.m. and the soft squish of Ken’s Hush Puppies on the highly polished floor was easily audible in the quietness of the morning. Spike, Darcy and Gretchen were all gone by the time Ken arrived. The morning shift was busily working as they compared chart notes, scanned the computers for updates on the current patients and prepared for the day ahead.
“Dan,” Ken called out cheerily. “Good Morning!”
“Morning,” Dan replied, a little slow on the uptake and still nursing his cup of coffee that he’d gotten to help wake him up.
“It’s another beautiful June day outside,” Ken said. “Too bad we have to work inside most of the day.”
“That’s for sure. I’ve got plenty of other things I’d rather be doing than working inside in this nice weather.”
“Me too. But, duty calls. What can you tell me about Benita Noveen this morning? Any change from last night when I saw her?”
“Hmmm. Let me see.” Dan set down his coffee mug on the counter next to the computer’s mouse. A container full of pencils and pens sat behind the mouse pad and an assortment of hospital forms and information was cataloged neatly in several cubbyholes on both sides of the monitor. A photo of Gretchen and some of her grandkids had been turned around facing the back wall. Dan typed in a few key words to logon to his workstation and then pulled up the files for Benita. “Let’s see, it says she had normal vital signs all night. Nothing unusual. There was a small spike in her EEG about 3 a.m., but it lasted only a few seconds and then was back to normal. Other than that, she’s still comatose and appears to be sleeping peacefully.” Dan looked up at Ken. “I checked on her a few minutes ago, and nothing’s changed. Still pretty quiet.”
“Thanks. How about Hank Maverick? He was supposed to be admitted last night.”
“Let me see.” Dan’s fingers jumped around the keyboard like Mexican jumping beans and within a few seconds, he had Hank’s chart on screen. “It says he was admitted around 7:30 p.m. last night. Nothing unusual on his chart either. Just the typical chart notes, occasional readings of the monitors and some info on his condition. Other than that, everything seems okay.”
“Have you checked in on him yet today?”
“No, I haven’t, but I think Sandy might have. I can check with her when she gets back from the lab in a minute.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just look now while I’m here. Thanks, and try to catch some rays today during your lunch.”
“Thanks doctor. I’ll see if I can get out of here for a bit.”
Ken turned and walked down the hallway. Stopping in front of room 507, Ken subconsciously glanced at room 505. He paused momentarily, and then quietly opened the door. A sliver of light followed Ken into the room and slowly made its’ way up Hank’s bed until it stopped just short of his open mouth. Hank was sleeping, a muffled snore escaping from his nose and mouth every few seconds. Ken checked the machines. The EEG and EKG looked good, both within normal range. His heartbeat and pulse were also good, although his heart was doing the work of four hearts because of Hank’s size. If Hank didn’t do something about his weight, his heart would eventually let him know, and it wouldn’t be politely either.
As Ken stood examining the monitors, Hank stirred in his bed. He mumbled something and rolled to face Ken. Looking more like a Grizzly bear than a man, Hank’s eyes began to open. They began blinking open and shut like a dying fluorescent light as they struggled to focus in the dim room. His mind slowly cleared as if he were coming out of a thick fog and after a few seconds, Hank remembered where he was.
In a Grizzly bear voice, Hank grumbled, “Dang, I’m still here.”
“You were admitted last night so we could monitor you,” Ken said quietly.
Yawning, Hank reached up and rubbed his eyes. “You know how hard it is to sleep with these stupid wires and crap attached all over my body?”
“I know. I know. But it’s the only way we can see what’s going on inside. It helps us make a quicker and more accurate diagnosis so we can get you out of here sooner.”
“So does that mean I’m going home?”
“How do you feel, honestly?”
“Fine.”
“You’re sure? No headaches, blurred vision, loss of hearing or memory. No numbness in any limbs or other unusual symptoms?”
“Not really,” Hank managed to say through yawns and stretches.
“Not really? So are you saying you are having some symptoms?”
“Maybe just a slight headache. But that’s about it.”
Ken noticed Hank was still blinking quite often. “And the eyes?”
“They’re okay. Just a little fuzzy. They’ll clear in a minute or two. It’s no big deal.”
“Well, like I mentioned last night, I don’t want to let you go too soon. It would be foolish of me and could be catastrophic to you. I’d like to check back with you in a couple of hours after you’ve awakened fully and do a couple of tests. I want to make sure of everything before I let you go.”
“So do I get some grub if I have to lie around here all day?”
“Of course. I’ll send Dan in to check with you and see what you’d like.”
“I’d rather talk to Spike. He’s my kind of dude, the outfit and attitude and all.”
“Spike’s gone home for the day. He’ll be back tonight at 6:00 p.m. That’s when his shift starts.”
“Well, since I won’t be here tonight, tell him I said ‘hi’ and to drop by The Hideout sometime. That’s where me and the boys go for drinks and chicks.”
“I’ll let him know. Until then, just rest, and Dan will be here in a few minutes to get your order. Breakfast is served at 7:30 a.m.”
Hank just grunted an acknowledgment and reached up and scratched his scraggily beard. His eyes fluttered three or four times and then refocused on Ken.
“I’ll check back around 9:00 a.m.,” Ken said. With that, he turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Walking back to the desk, Ken pulled Dan’s attention from his computer screen.
“Hank wants some breakfast. Can you take his order and then keep an eye on his monitors? I’m still a little concerned about his head injury.” Ken’s brow wrinkled in a slight look of concern. He always took every case personal as if he was the one who had to cure humankind and take away all pain.
“You bet,” Dan said, with more cheer and energy in his voice. “I’ll page you if there’s a change.”
“Thanks Dan. I’ll be back by around 9:00 a.m. to check on him again. I’m also going to check on Benita while I’m here. I’ll see you then.”
“Okay,” Dan said. “See you then.”
Ken turned and headed for his office that was just down the hallway and across from some of the patient rooms. He wanted to do a little research on some nagging questions that were weaving their way through his mind. He was determined to find a cure and solution to his current patients’ ailments.
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