So I'm jumping back into the world of MC. "Jumping back in, all you've ever written are one shots?" For OUAT, that's true. BUT, all my tumblr friends (jk, they don't know who I am, but I feel like we should be friends) are writing all these amazing stories and I got the itch. So I'm trying to make this pretty accurate. I'm a student nurse, so it might not all be correct, but whatever I didn't know, I researched. Sorry for any jargon. BP= blood pressure. If you watched House or Grey's, you're used to it. lol. Please review so that I know people actually want to read more of this. Thanks.
It's ten in the morning and Emma needs another coffee. Or maybe like three more. But there's no time for coffee right now, because her to do list is currently long enough to stretch into neighboring states. Mr. Johnson in bed seven needs ice chips and caffeine-free Sprite. Mrs. King in bed three needs to get up and void before rounds or Dr. Whale will never send her home. Ms. Brown in bed four needs her blood pressure medication, Mr. Keating in bed five's IV has been going off for 10 minutes, and her nurse assistant needs help transferring bed six into a wheelchair. She's still behind on charting and her bladder has been at capacity for three hours.
Nursing was something that was hard, really hard. Despite its challenges, Emma felt like she was home in her navy blue scrubs. She'd been a nurse for five years on the medical-surgical floor and she still loved it. There's something beautiful in being able to care for someone at their very worst and most vulnerable. Before getting too caught up in her thoughts, she handed off the sprite to her nursing assistant and went to grab a new bag of saline for bed five, promising to catch up with her in fifteen minutes.
She knocked gently on the door before walking in. "Hey, Mr. Keating! Is this thing screaming at you again?" she laughed as she gestured to the irritating machine beeping.
"Emma, I told you, you can call me Ted. And yeah, damn thing won't shut up." He said with a hint of humor coloring his words as he shifted his arm.
"Okay, Ted," she acquiesced giving him a tenative smile, feeling just a bit uncomfortable. "Don't worry, I'll fix it and maybe you can get some rest before lunch time?" She typed a few things into the computer in front of her while she made conversation.
"Well I hope so. It was another rough night last night…I had that ditzy red head nurse again." He grumbled.
"Take it easy on Ariel, Ted. She just graduated and we all start somewhere. She's a great nurse." she said gently. She never quite understood why nurses sometimes tended to eat their young. She's seen several nurses on her floor berate and bully the students and graduates and frankly, it pissed her off. Every one was new once. And while she meant no disrespect to their experience, sometimes the old nurse Mildred had to be double checked on her dosage, because her eyesight was going out.
"Only for you, nurse Emma." He smiled. It wasn't unusal for her to get a little flirtation from the patients, especially the older ones…especially during bed baths. She remembered ranting to her nurse best friend, Mary Margaret, that she's sure that some of these men really are in fact capable of washing their own private areas. She just smiled back and returned to her task at hand.
"You know the drill, Ted. Name and date of birth" She inspected his wristband as she scanned the information into her computer. Theodore Keating, May 6, 1951. "Any allergies?" When he affirmed no, she clicked the last box and scanned her bag. Making quick work of connecting the bag she hung it up and disposed of the old one. "Alright, should be good for a few hours. I'll be back here around noon to check your blood sugar and do your insulin, okay?"
"Do you have to do that?" He whined.
"Do you like eating?" She said teasingly, promising to return soon.
Off to the next patient. It went on like this for much of the afternoon. Passing meds, changing dressings, emptying catheters, and of course charting. Dr. Whale came by and discharged one of her patients and she had about twenty minutes to silently celebrate, before she got the news via an email from her nurse manager, Regina. She sat at her computer in the nursing station, nibbling on a half eaten cherry poptart she found unceremoniously wrapped in tissue paper in her desk drawer. She reread the email for the sixth time, still not quite grasping what she was reading. Of freaking course, why should she get any breaks?
Regina passed by the nurses station in one of her classic sensible pantsuits. A purple blouse peeked out from beneath the black blazer. She had a look on her face that warned against anyone approaching her. Emma had never been great at heeding such warnings.
"Regina!" She called out from her chair.
The woman stopped in her tracks, almost steeling herself to turn around. Emma shot up from her chair and started to walk toward her and finally Regina turned and approached the nurses station.
"Miss Swan, surely I don't have to remind you that keeping food at the station is both unsanitary and also not permitted." Regina said with an exasperated sigh. "You need to keep the food in the break room."
Emma shot her a pointed look. The only time she ever went into the break room was for those five blissful moments at the beginning of her shift and again at the end of her shift. Her thirty minute lunch break consisted of walking all the way down to the cafeteria, grabbing a grilled cheese and a piece of fruit, waiting in line to pay for it, then walking back up to the floor eating as she goes.
"I know, I know" Regina replied throwing her hands up to assuage Emma's frustration.. "It's not so long ago that I was in your shoes, Miss Swan. In any case, did you read my email?"
"Uh, yeah. I did. Why does it say that I'm getting a new admit?"
"Because, Miss Swan, you are" She said with a sarcastic smile.
"Clearly. But my point is that my patient load is already pretty heavy with the six patients I have and so a new admit is just, I don't know, a lot. Lauren only has 4 patients, can't she take the new admit?" She asked, knowing it was a long shot.
"What can I say? We're understaffed and overbooked. The ER is full and patients have to go somewhere." Regina sighed and ran her manicured hand through her raven hair. "Besides, if I were you, I might consider it a compliment that you're being chosen over her. It might say something about our trust in your abilities. Have we misplaced that trust, Miss Swan?" She quirked an eyebrow, challengingly.
"Well, no, of course not." Emma interjected. "It's just, I'm super busy today."
"Lauren is on light duty and this patient is definitely not a light duty patient. It's a little involved. I chose the nurse I think will take care of this patient the best."
"Alright. Just remember this when it comes time for my raise, okay?" Emma said letting a smile overcome her face.
It actually felt nice to be appreciated and even to be given additional responsibility. Although, administration had a weird way of showing their appreciation. Extra work and a chocolate chip cookie once a year hardly screamed of their undying gratitude. She had known that they were trying to groom her for hospital administration for quite some time, but she just couldn't give up patient care. She vowed she'd be on the floor until the day she keeled over.
"Oh, how could I forget?" Regina laughed sardonically. "So, do you want to wait for report from PACU or do you want me to fill you in now?"
"Fill me in now." she said immediately. She had cringed thinking of Regina's comments on 'not a light duty patient' and thought maybe she needed as much time as she could to prepare for it.
"Okay. 35 year old male presented by ambulance to ED with traumatic injury to left hand at 0630. Went in for surgery at 0800 and is now in PACU to wake up. Surgery was successful in reattaching the hand, but had complications in reattaching some of the nerves. The site is closed, but of course, make sure you're checking those dressings often. BP is slightly decreased 107/74, oxygen sats at 88%–he's receiving 2 liters per nasal canula. Temperature, heart rate, respirations all within limits. Patient is awake and alert, but not quite oriented yet. They said he's still a little out of it. He's on a cipro drip to prevent infection. He's a full code. High fall risk."
"Great, thanks!" She replied as she dismissed Regina and went to prepare his room.
She always appreciated the way the room looked right after housekeeping left. Neat corners tucked nicely into the bed sheets. She admired the view from the seventh floor overlooking the little suburbs and parks. The autumn leaves looked beautiful with their various hues of orange and red. The wind plucked them from their trees and carried them through the breeze. She spotted little children playing in the park in the distance, their mothers chasing after them when they wander too far away. She imagined the cool breeze blowing her hair as she listened to the symphony of children laughing, leaves rustling, and crickets chirping. She really wished she had more time to just sit and enjoy the view with a nice hot chocolate. Wistfully sighing, she turned and adjusted the thermostat and readied a welcome basket for him.
"Killian Jones." She said under her breath, as she often did when alone. She idly wondered what type of patient he would be. She could generally make it work with anyone, but if she could avoid having one of the rude types that would be freaking great. She tried really hard to connect with all of her patients on some level. She wanted to make sure every one knew that they weren't just a bed number to her. They weren't just bed seven with the COPD or bed five with the poorly controlled diabetes. They were names and faces and stories. They had lives before this moment, things that lead them to her care. They had lives to go back to, families and friends who loved them and made them cards. Her heart both ached and warmed every time she saw those handmade cards with the sloppy handwriting and stick figures littering the white walls of the hospital room. How sweet it must be to be loved so dearly. The hospital can be such a lonely and scary place for some people. She resolved to make it a place where people felt safe. Validated. Heard. Genuinely cared for. She tried to make a difference in whatever way she could. "How about you, Mr. Jones? Will I be able to help you?"
Stealing another moment of calm, she took a deep breath, hugged one of the pillows to her chest as she set up the extra pillows on the blue pleather recliner near the hospital bed and then turned on her heel to make sure all her other patients were set for the next hour or so. She briefed her nursing aide and then asked nurse Lauren to help out in case one of her patients needed something while she was admitting Mr. Jones. It could take a while, especially if he's still loopy.
It was about twenty minutes later when transport brought him up. She came into the room just in time to assist with transferring him from a gurney onto the hospital bed. She hung the IV bag on the appropriate pole and straightened the lines as best she could. As she turned back to introduce herself, she suddenly froze. Regina had certainly not included this in her report. Killian Jones was hot. Her cheeks flushed, because it was extremely inappropriate to have such thoughts about her patient who is literally putting his life in her hands.
"Hi, Mr. Jones. My name is Emma Swan. I'm going to be your nurse today. Are you doing okay?" She asked. She wasn't sure how lucid he was. Could he understand her? Did he know where he was? Did he even know he'd had an accident?
"I'm doing a lot better than I was five minutes ago, that's for sure." He said in a low, husky voice with an unmistakeable lilt. Of fucking course he's British. Of fucking course. Like he doesn't have enough strikes in the hot column.
"That's good to hear! And why's that?"
"You're absolutely bloody beautiful. We're going to get married!" He replied in a slurred sing song voice. Her face immediately turned red and a few of the other staff members snickered under their breath. He continued muttering about nuptials and their supposed wedding.
"Looks like you've still got some of that anesthesia in your system." She joked half heartedly. She didn't want to take advantage of his altered state and humiliate him like she'd seen done in some viral videos. But she also didn't want to freak him out , so she kept a pleasant smile on her face as she went about the admitting process.
"No, I've not." He argued a little louder than he'd probably intended. "You are a bloody marvel. So gorgeous. Are you an angel?" His eyes seemed to bug out a little as she heard the slur coming into his voice.
"Oh, you're sweet. I bet you say that to all the nurses." She remarked. One of the nursing assistants from PACU huffed.
"Not really, but he's got a lot of pirate lore to tell of." the woman said. Emma was thankful for the distraction.
"Pirate lore? Are you a pirate then?" She smiled.
"Aye. I'm the most fearsome pirate to ever sail the seas." He said, giving her a 'no duh' expression.
"Hmm. What's your pirate name?" She asked thoughtfully, tapping her finger on her chin.
"I reckon I'd make a good Captain Hook" He smiled.
"No curly mustache or perms though? Interesting choice, Hook." She teased. She vaguely thought about the implications of her patient comparing himself to a one handed pirate while being treated for a quite similar hand injury. She didn't want to touch that one with a ten foot pole. Maybe when he was lucid, she could get him to open up and explore those feelings, but certainly not at this point.
"Still devilishly handsome, love." He tried to wink at her, but ended up squinting both eyes. "Betcha don't know 'm really good with a sword" he seemed to be trying to make an innuendo, gesticulating wildly with his uninjured hand, but whatever allure he might have was overshadowed by how hilarious it was when a grown man is when put under heavy anesthesia. He was cute, she caught herself thinking.
"Haha, well okay, Captain Hook. Let's say goodbye to our friends so we can start getting you all checked in, okay?" She laughed, waving the other people off.
"Finally, lass. It's about time." He slurred as he reached down to his shirt for buttons that weren't there. "Argh, what the devil is going on?" He asked as he kept violently grasping at the front of his gown as if buttons would magically appear.
"You're in a hospital gown." She explained helpfully. "Do you know you're in the hospital?"
"Are you quite sure I'm not in heaven?" he quirked an eyebrow and scratched behind his ear.
"Hook, you've got to help me here. Do you know where you are?" She made a point to enunciate very clearly.
"I'm in a hospital" He said quietly.
"That's right. Do you know who I am?"
"You're a nurse. Emma." He replied, saying her name like he was tasting it. It was unfamiliar on his lips. He smacked his lips on the second syllable. He repeated the smacking syllable a few times, apparently amused with the sensation. She tried not to laugh.
"That's me. Do you know your name?"
"Killian Jones."
"Do you know what day it is?" She asked as she began her series of questions. She asked about pain and he'd reported a three, due to the heavy dose of hydrocodone he was on. He answered all of her questions correctly for the most part. She took her penlight and examined his (very blue) eyes, mouth, nose and ears finding nothing really amiss. She was, however, quite impressed by his oral hygiene.
"Okay, Mr. Jones" She paused. His face scrunched up. "What? What is it?"
"You should call me Killian. Killian's fine." He said. "I don't really like being called by my surname"
"Oh, okay sure. Killian, I need to listen to your heart, lungs, and abdomen, okay? So I'm going to need to uncover some of your skin. But this is a private room and I'm going to respect your privacy, okay? Is that alright?" She pulled at the red stethoscope she'd draped over her shoulders.
"Love, if you wanted me to defrock, all you had to do was ask." He grinned. "I'm more than willing to oblige."
She shot him a stern look then placed her stethoscope earpieces in her ears and placed the cool metal diaphragm on his chest carefully listening, then moving onto the next place trying to ignore the sensation of running her fingers through his chest hair,
"Sounds good. Can you roll over onto your side for me?" She ran her fingers down his toned back and placed a thumb on each side of his spine at the base of the lungs. He shivered a little at her touch. "Sorry about the cold hands. Take a deep breath for me?" He breathed in and she felt her thumbs move just a little in each direction. "Good job, go ahead and roll back over." She looked and listened to his abdomen to see if the anesthesia had worn off enough to hear anything yet. "Killian, I'm going to touch your abdomen, is that okay? You tell me if it hurts"
"I don't mind one bit love, don't be afraid to you know, really get into it." She snorted at that and pressed down on each of the quadrants of his abdomen, not feeling anything of concern. Other than some very impressive definition in his abs. She mentally shushed this part of her that seemed to be cataloguing his attributes. She was a professional, dammit.
"You're doing a really great job, Killian. I'm almost done." She encouraged him.
"No rush, Swan."
"Tell that to the other patients." She said as she checked pulses. She inspected his injury site closer, noting the weak, but present radial pulse. His skin was a soft pink color juxtaposed to the rest of his really very tan body. He sutures were well approximated and only leaking very little fluid. She wrapped him back up and went back to the hand. Careful not to move it too much, she pinched the skin of the back of his hand and pressed down on the tips of his fingers. They blanched for a few seconds and then turned pink again. She breathed a silent exhale of relief. That was what she wanted. Blood flow. She grabbed his hand and held it for a moment to assess its warmth.
"Holding hands already and we haven't even had a first date. I'd say it's going remarkably well." He smirked in an irritatingly cute way.
She dropped his hand, deciding it was plenty warm. "Oh? I thought we were getting married? Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now" He flushed a little in the tips of his ears.
"Offer's'not off the the table" He grinned. His slurring running the words together in a strangely child like way.
"Alright let's get you some of these extra pillows for your arm." She said as she gently lifted his arm and placed the pillows under it. "Make sure you leave this elevated, okay? It'll help you heal faster."
"Aye aye." He nodded.
"Alright Hook, I'm going to get some heparin for you, but do you think you need anything else?"
"Just maybe some pants please? It's not exactly comfortable in this bloody gown." He asked politely in a small voice. His blue eyes looking innocent and so kind. Honestly, if he kept looking at her like this lost little boy, she would do literally anything for him. He was a grown man. A very attractive grown man, her mind instantly corrected her. She resented herself for that thought yet again. It wasn't often that she felt that kind of immediate connection with someone, let alone a patient.
She thought of the clothes pantry in the break room. She'd discovered it after one too many coffee spills. It consisted of donated scrub tops and bottoms for men and women, free to take.
"No problem." She smiled warmly.
She walked out of his room and into the break room to get his things. Taking a moment to breathe deeply, she pondered how completely fucked she was.
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