cups.
“Thanks,” Jenna said, gratefully accepting
the additional caffeine. She blew
over the surface of the mug and cautiously took a sip.
“Don’t mention it.” Tom walked around to Jenna’s side of the
desk and pulled a chair up next to her. Right away, Tom took in the images on the computer screen and asked,
“Who the hell is that? Please don’t
tell me that’s our next nanny.”
Jenna was too mortified to appreciate Tom’s
humor. Instead, she responded with
a barely audible whisper, “No Tom, it’s not our next nanny. Say hello to Hillary Martin.”
Tom took a closer look at the pictures. He had not yet noticed the tears
spilling down Jenna’s cheeks. When
Tom finally glanced at his wife, Jenna was nearly catatonic. Her mouth was agape, her eyes wide, and
her pupils dilated.
“Jenna,” Tom said as he pulled his wife into
his arms. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Whispering shallowly, Jenna confessed, “I
remember working with her! There
was this patient I took care of a while back that had a clit ring. During the surgery, we were all
commenting on it. Hillary Martin
was the scrub tech for that case. She told us she had one, too. It stands out in my mind because who would
admit to such a thing? Especially
to people you don’t know very well.”
Tom looked at his wife
and asked, “Do you remember anything else?”
Jenna tried to think back, but it had been
many months ago. Like a bolt of
electricity, a memory struck her. Jenna stood and started pacing, shaking her head as she muttered
repeatedly, “Oh no! No, no, no.”
The world crashed in upon Jenna. The lights in the room swirled around
her. A tingly, buzzing sensation
enveloped her body. Her heart
raced, her mouth went dry, and she gasped for air. An immovable lump in her throat made it
impossible to speak. She could hear
Tom’s voice, but it sounded distant and distorted. Everything she had worked for seemed to
be in jeopardy. Worse, what if her
patient was infected? Jenna was
drowning in guilt, grief, and fear.
Tom shook Jenna by the shoulders and forced
her to focus on him. “What? Jenna, what’s wrong?”
Jenna’s heart sank. “I remember she disappeared before the
start of the case. I went to see
the patient, and when I came back, she was gone. They had to track her down. Tom, what if she stole my drugs?”
Tom did not answer. He did not have the heart to tell Jenna
what he was thinking.
CHAPTER 9
Later that morning, Jenna fought to clear
her head as she prepared for her first case. However, as she drew up drugs for her
patient, she was reminded of the devastation that Hillary Martin had left in
her wake. For the past week, Jenna
had been struggling to adapt to new hospital rules. Anesthesiologists were no longer allowed
to draw up controlled substances until the patient physically entered the
operating room. Serving as a
constant reminder, a copy of the policy was taped prominently to the front of
every Accudose machine. At first,
before the story broke, Jenna thought the new policy was the result of some
government regulation. Only now did
she understand its significance.
Jenna glanced at the memo, and it struck her
that it was dated June 7, 2010. This was a week before she, or any of her colleagues, had any knowledge
of Hillary Martin’s crimes. Coincidentally, it was also two days after Hillary Martin turned herself
in to the authorities.
The timing of the policy left Jenna feeling
deceived. Her new reality consisted
of a world where the operating room was no longer considered safe, and the staff
could not be trusted. More
troubling, it was not only the staff that Jenna could no longer count on. She strongly suspected that the hospital
administration, including Rob Wilson, was controlling, withholding, and
possibly covering up information.
The nurse wheeled in Jenna’s first
patient.
“Thanks,” Jenna said, gratefully accepting
the additional caffeine. She blew
over the surface of the mug and cautiously took a sip.
“Don’t mention it.” Tom walked around to Jenna’s side of the
desk and pulled a chair up next to her. Right away, Tom took in the images on the computer screen and asked,
“Who the hell is that? Please don’t
tell me that’s our next nanny.”
Jenna was too mortified to appreciate Tom’s
humor. Instead, she responded with
a barely audible whisper, “No Tom, it’s not our next nanny. Say hello to Hillary Martin.”
Tom took a closer look at the pictures. He had not yet noticed the tears
spilling down Jenna’s cheeks. When
Tom finally glanced at his wife, Jenna was nearly catatonic. Her mouth was agape, her eyes wide, and
her pupils dilated.
“Jenna,” Tom said as he pulled his wife into
his arms. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Whispering shallowly, Jenna confessed, “I
remember working with her! There
was this patient I took care of a while back that had a clit ring. During the surgery, we were all
commenting on it. Hillary Martin
was the scrub tech for that case. She told us she had one, too. It stands out in my mind because who would
admit to such a thing? Especially
to people you don’t know very well.”
Tom looked at his wife
and asked, “Do you remember anything else?”
Jenna tried to think back, but it had been
many months ago. Like a bolt of
electricity, a memory struck her. Jenna stood and started pacing, shaking her head as she muttered
repeatedly, “Oh no! No, no, no.”
The world crashed in upon Jenna. The lights in the room swirled around
her. A tingly, buzzing sensation
enveloped her body. Her heart
raced, her mouth went dry, and she gasped for air. An immovable lump in her throat made it
impossible to speak. She could hear
Tom’s voice, but it sounded distant and distorted. Everything she had worked for seemed to
be in jeopardy. Worse, what if her
patient was infected? Jenna was
drowning in guilt, grief, and fear.
Tom shook Jenna by the shoulders and forced
her to focus on him. “What? Jenna, what’s wrong?”
Jenna’s heart sank. “I remember she disappeared before the
start of the case. I went to see
the patient, and when I came back, she was gone. They had to track her down. Tom, what if she stole my drugs?”
Tom did not answer. He did not have the heart to tell Jenna
what he was thinking.
CHAPTER 9
Later that morning, Jenna fought to clear
her head as she prepared for her first case. However, as she drew up drugs for her
patient, she was reminded of the devastation that Hillary Martin had left in
her wake. For the past week, Jenna
had been struggling to adapt to new hospital rules. Anesthesiologists were no longer allowed
to draw up controlled substances until the patient physically entered the
operating room. Serving as a
constant reminder, a copy of the policy was taped prominently to the front of
every Accudose machine. At first,
before the story broke, Jenna thought the new policy was the result of some
government regulation. Only now did
she understand its significance.
Jenna glanced at the memo, and it struck her
that it was dated June 7, 2010. This was a week before she, or any of her colleagues, had any knowledge
of Hillary Martin’s crimes. Coincidentally, it was also two days after Hillary Martin turned herself
in to the authorities.
The timing of the policy left Jenna feeling
deceived. Her new reality consisted
of a world where the operating room was no longer considered safe, and the staff
could not be trusted. More
troubling, it was not only the staff that Jenna could no longer count on. She strongly suspected that the hospital
administration, including Rob Wilson, was controlling, withholding, and
possibly covering up information.
The nurse wheeled in Jenna’s first
patient.
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