A Series of Unfortunate Events

Disclaimer: These are not my characters they are fully James Duffs. I just love them so much and love to play with them.

Chapter 17

Warning: some disturbing scenes involving the use of force during a medical procedure.

Actually, the people taking her clothes off were Nurse Angie, and her partner Gus, a male nurse from the Psych Ward. They had read her name off her bracelet and were sure they had their psychiatric patient. Unfortunately for Sharon due to human error, the wristband on Sharon's arm said Isabel Beckett, not Sharon Raydor.

As they undressed her with the purpose of putting her a hospital gown, she fought them, kicking and flailing her arms. Even trying to bite them, all the while her eyes were closed. They finally restrained her, tying her hands and legs to the bed rails. In the dream world of Sharon's mind's eye, she was defending herself against he attacker. However, the nurses' perception was quite different. They viewed her as combative and felt justified for tying her down. They thought she was a mental patient they had to take a test in radiology. Unfortunately for Sharon, the nurse who had put the wristband on her had been at work for thirty-six hours straight. She was very tired distracted and harried. She had been on her way to punch out and get changed to go home when Carmen had begged her to help her out and put the last two wristbands on her last two patients.

Both women were in cubicles side-by-side. It would only take a minute she reasoned. Carmen had been called back home by her neighbor because her mother had been hurt and her children were alone with her. Her mother was her babysitter, who had fallen down the steps of their little house on her way to chase after her two-year-old who delighted in running around the house naked. Her four-year-old had run over to the next door neighbors house. The neighbor had alerted Carmen through the 911 dispatcher who was also her friend. Otherwise, she wouldn't have heard for hours.

The harried nurse, wanting to get home to her own family, had not been paying as much attention as she should have. She had put the wristbands on the patients and left to go home. Isabel Beckett was in the cubicle next door to Sharon's. She, in turn, had Sharon's name on her bracelet. Isabel Beckett was a patient with schizophrenia and psychosis which was aggravated by a urinary tract infection and early onset dementia. Of course, due to the craziness of a very busy ER, that was dealing with computers that refused to stay online, too many patients to handle and not near enough nurses or doctors to handle them all, the mix up fell through the cracks.

Sharon was only vaguely aware of moving, as Nurse Angie and Gus her partner rolled her on the gurney towards radiology. They were so focused on getting this assignment completed, so they could go home after a long thirty-six-hour shift. They forgot to alert the charge nurse they had a dead body, in the cubicle next to Isabel's. As they rolled towards radiology Sharon drifted in and out of sleep and only partial wakefulness. She started waking up a little more and began to squirm and fight them when she was held down and her legs were restrained in stirrups pulling them painfully wide open. She didn't remember being undressed, but she apparently had been at some point. The draft she felt in her lower regions made her feel exposed. She tried desperately to get out of the restraints.

"Mrs. Beckett, you must lay still," said the nurse sternly.

Even groggy Sharon realized they were calling her by Bella's name. "That's not my name!" she said in a panic. "My name is Sharon Raydor. Isabella Beck is my four-month-old ward." She tried to stay calm, and keep her eyes open, but it felt like she was in the middle of one of those nightmares where you can't open your eyes and you have to run away from danger. You know something bad will happen to you if you don't get away, but your eyes won't open and your limbs feel like lead. So, instead of running away from danger you can't move and the danger gets you. Sharon was still groggy from the meds she'd been given in the ambulance, not to mention the exhaustion from the trauma of everything leading up to being shot by Gary.

To add to everything else, she could feel herself getting breathless again and the pain in her hips was increasing as the male nurse, Gus pulled her legs further apart to get better access to the area he needed to anesthetize and catherize. Sharon finally pried her eyes open for a minute and saw the huge male nurse between her legs and a fission of fear overtook her. He didn't say much, he didn't have a good handle on the language. He was from Africa but he was white or mixed. He was the size of a mountain and bald. He had a goatee, his eyes were black and fathomless. His face was expressionless. His dark eyes and lack of expression made Sharon feel a bit frightened. "Stop! You're hurting me! This can't be a treatment plan for stitches in my forehead! Why are you doing this to me?!"

Angie scanned the first page of Isabel Beckett's file. "It says here that you, Isabel Beckett fell because you refused your medicine and got dizzy. When you fell, you hit your head on the corner of the dresser. It says you got five stitches in your forehead, it also says that this test was ordered because of several UTI's you've had."

"I'm telling you, I'm not her! This Isabel Beckett is someone else, not me! I'm Commander Sharon Raydor! Of the Major Crimes Unit of the LAPD!" She thrashed around some more trying to get away. The nurse Angie was becoming impatient with Sharon's protestations. She started to help Gus renew his efforts to catheterize her, so the dye could be administered for the test. Desperate to make the nurses understand they had the wrong patient, she started to protest in a reasonable voice, but then she saw the male nurse preparing a syringe. "Nooooo! Please! Listen to me! I'm not who you think I am! My name is Sharon Raydor, I am a police Commander for the LAPD! I did not fall because I didn't take my meds! I was shot in the head by a home invader! I want you to call my husband! He'll tell you who I am! His name is Lieutenant Andrew Flynn! He's somewhere in this hospital with my ward Isabella Beck, his number is 555 um... 2345." Her breathing was becoming labored, and since she couldn't figure out where her rescue inhaler was she tried to concentrate on keeping from hyperventilating. Slow and easy, in and out. She tried to tell the nurse she needed her inhaler.

"There is nothing in this report about you having asthma," Angie said sternly. She was stubbornly refusing to believe she'd made such a grievous mistake. "Wait a minute, wasn't Sharon Raydor the name of the dead woman in the next cubicle?"

"That's because I'm not Isabel Beckett, you moron! My name is Sharon Raydor! I was in two bomb explosions, I inhaled smoke and C4, I got pneumonia from it. It caused me to develop temporary stress-related asthma." She coughed after practically screaming at the top of her lungs.

The radiologist had entered the room and had stopped to look at the nurse. "What's going on? Is what she is saying the truth?"

Nurse Angie was starting to worry that she or someone else had made a mistake, the woman's story sounded so plausible. Could someone else have put the wrong wristband on the wrong patient? No, that couldn't be. Could it? To make sure she decided to read more about this Isabel Beckett. She scanned further down to the description of the patient. She read the description which sounded a lot like the lady before her. Dark auburn hair, green eyes, and freckles. Then she read the notes about her mental diagnosis and suddenly relaxed. "It says here Isabel Beckett is very confused… She's forty-nine and schizophrenic.

"I'm not forty-nine, I'm fifty-five and I'm not confused or schizophrenic. I tell you I'm Sharon Raydor, a police commander for the LAPD. Please believe me!" Sharon's voice held a note of panic.

Angie continued on unconcerned, "She also has early onset dementia. It says here she has delusions that she isn't who we say she is. She's always someone else. One of the people is a woman with a baby or a husband or both. Another is a police captain. Every day a new name, a new identity. Lately, she has been presenting behavior that is consistent with a UTI and she has been having trouble with pain while going to the bathroom. So, she's here to be given the cystourethrogram." She then lowered her voice. "I know one thing, if she becomes any more combative we're supposed to give her a butt shot of midazolam."

Sharon was too busy to hear. She was once again trying to fight the male nurse who was still trying to catheterize her. She tried to kick him and managed to get him near his family jewels. He narrowed his eyes at her and picked up the syringe of Midazolam, already prepared and plunged it into her bottom. She roared with rage and pain then tried harder to escape her confines, but suddenly she lost all her energy. "Please… please believe me… I'm Sharon Raydor, not Isabel Beckett," she sobbed, as she fell back to sleep.

The radiologist did not have a good feeling about this. "Look, I'm not sure we should do this. She sounds pretty convincing."

"Look, she's sedated now. She's already got the catheter and the dye in her. You can't not do it," Angie said with attitude.

"Well, I'll do the cystourethrogram, because she's already set up for it, but I'd double check her identity if I were you. She sounded too alert and clear-minded to be this person you think she is. This Isabel Beckett."

"She's a nut job, Leo they all sound convincing!" Angie said not willing to consider any other scenario. Leo shook his head. Angie was hard-headed and hard-hearted.

They started doing the test. Gus helped them position her throughout the test. Then just as they were completing taking the pictures, the radiologist was called away to pediatrics. Angie and Gus removed the catheter, then wheeled their charge to the psych ward on the 4th floor. After putting the code in they were buzzed in. They wheeled the gurney up to the front desk of the unit. "Who do we have here?" asked the charge nurse.

"Her name is Isabel Beckett, she's a patient from the psych hospital Austin Riggs. She's here for medical observation and to get some tests done. They did the cystourethrogram, but they want her evaluated before she goes back. She's running a low-grade temperature and she's been really combative. She keeps insisting she's some lady named Sharon Raydor and that she has asthma and needs an inhaler because she was in a bomb blast. She says she, not Isabel Beckett. She claims she has a ward named Isabella Beck who is an infant, but her packet says she's delusional and often thinks she's other people."

The charge nurse was a tall brunette, named Cora Hartley. She had a pale olive complexion with long narrow black eyes, generous lips sporting very red lipstick and a birthmark next to the corner of her mouth. Her heart-shaped face had a straight delicate nose. She had a well toned sexy body, long legs and was wearing an old-fashioned white nurses uniform. The nurse pursed her lips. "Hmmm, we'll see. Okay, go I'll buzz you out. Is your shift over?"

Angie nodded, "and I'm going. I've been on thirty-six hours straight."

"Well, then go," she said and let her out of the unit.

Then she turned and went to the gurney. She pushed the woman's bloody hair out of the way, to see her face and gasped. It was Sharon Raydor, she'd know that face anywhere. Her husband had been a beat cop in LA shortly after Sharon Raydor had become the head of FID. He'd been brought before her for taking protection money from the store owners on his beat. One of the people he was trying to extort money from refused to pay. Joe had had him beaten to death. The other store owners had united and reported him. Her husband Joe had been found guilty and put in jail. He had died in jail. She, Cora, his wife moved to get away from LA and had come here to the armpit of the California Desert to get away from the shame. She'd made a life for herself, and it wasn't too bad. She and Joe had been kindred spirits. They were both mean and cruel people, but they could put on a good show of being nice to fool people. Cora Hartley had become The Desert Hot Spring Medical Center Psychiatric wards' own version of Nurse Ratchett.

Cora smiled, somewhat evilly. She'd heard the Wicked Witch of FID had changed divisions and had been promoted to Commander. This little-unscheduled visit to her little world would give her the opportunity to pay Raydor back for what she'd done to her husband. "Well, well, you're not so high and mighty, now are you?" She asked bitterly and then laughed.

TBC...

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