“Physically, better,” he said. “But I did some reading. This drip is for ischemia, and I’ve got a classic heart attack picture.” “And where did you get your medical education?” Elena asked. “My neighbor,” he said. “She was in here recently.
People talk. They say this place gives everybody the same thing.” “Mr. Sanders,” Elena said patiently, “if you walked around this floor and compared charts, you’d see every treatment plan is different.
Our attending tailors each one to the patient. You’re worrying for no reason.” “Well, for some reason, I trust you,” he admitted. “Would you look at my chart anyway? Just so I can sleep tonight.”
“Gladly.” She scanned the chart. “Everything here is appropriate. The doses are right.
You can relax. And didn’t you just tell me you’re already feeling better?” “Fair point,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. I get harder to live with every year.”
“It’s fine. If you have concerns, come to me directly. Deal?” “Deal.” Once she finished with the immediate work, Elena headed upstairs.
She stepped quietly into ICU and approached the bed of the man from the bus stop. He was awake, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently.
“Ah, my rescuer,” he said. “Because of your initiative, I’m now spending quality time under an IV. How long am I stuck here?” “That’s up to the attending physician.
“Too bad. I had plans to visit the cemetery.” “The cemetery can wait,” Elena said. “If I hadn’t been there, this could have ended very differently.” “I felt fine,” he muttered.
“This happens. I was going to tidy up my wife’s grave while I still can walk. Let me take a look at your chart, and I’ll come back later.”
Elena turned to leave. To herself, she noted that this stubborn old man was going to be a handful. Then she heard a quiet word behind her.
“Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” She turned back and gave him a warm smile.
Out in the hall, she nearly ran into the same young man from the car. He was holding the old man’s worn bag. “I forgot to bring this in,” he said.
“Where should I leave it?” “Could you take it to admissions downstairs?” she asked. “Sure.
How’s our passenger?” “He’s getting treatment. He’s going to make it. He’s in good hands.”
Elena smiled again. “You really helped today. And I never even asked your name.”
“Mike.” “I’m Elena. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” “I’d better get back to work. Take care.
And I hope he recovers quickly.” Mike turned and headed for the stairs. “Thanks again!” Elena called after him.
She went straight to the attending’s office and learned that the patient would likely be moved to a regular floor the next day. His vitals had stabilized, but his underlying cancer had triggered serious cardiac complications, so he still needed close monitoring. Elena felt a strong urge to make sure he didn’t feel abandoned.
She decided to ask what could be done. “What’s the best plan here? We can’t just discharge him to nowhere.” “Hard to say.
Does he have family?” “I don’t know yet. He only mentioned he was on his way to visit his wife’s grave. Give me a little time. I’ll find out.”
“Do that. On our end, the best option may be transfer to palliative care. He’d get proper support and medication there.
We actually had a bed open up today. I can hold it for him.” “That would be wonderful.”
Relieved, Elena hurried back to ask him gently whether he had any relatives. “I’m alone,” he said. “My wife died a year ago.
Long, hard decline. I’ve got a couple of sons, but they’ve been overseas for years and don’t come around. They have their own lives.
I’m just one more problem.” “You’re not being left on your own,” Elena said. “We can arrange a transfer to hospice. A bed just opened up.
The room only has three patients. It’s bright, comfortable, almost homey. You’d be well cared for.”
“They got a TV?” he asked. “Not in the room. But there’s a big one in the common area. I think you’d like it.” “Well, all right.
Maybe I won’t argue. Better than sitting alone in an apartment.”
“I’m really glad you said yes. I’ll come see you whenever I can.” “You’re a good kid.
I’ve already forgotten your name.” “Elena. And yours?” “Peter. Peter Simmons. You a doctor here?”
