Free All For Anna by Nicole Deese Page B

wasn’t exactly instructional or helpful, she wasn’t a total
stick-in-the-mud like Stormy had been either. Bev’s main focus was on a doctor
by the name of Thomas, a doctor who I was fairly sure was married.
    I wondered how much
longer I’d have to be “supervised” as I administered my third IV for the
afternoon while Bev stood in the doorway and texted on her phone. Apparently
whatever was happening on that tiny screen was far more important than the lady
who was crying from her kidney stones. Thankfully, the woman’s morphine kicked
in within twenty minutes and she was now resting peacefully, waiting for the
doctor.
    The last six hours of
my shift were filled with college students who were drunk beyond measure. Many
needed treatment for alcohol poisoning, while the other obnoxiously noisy frat
brothers filled the waiting room. Hospital security was higher on evenings and
weekends, usually due to this exact scenario. Drunks didn’t seem to follow the
rules as well as the old lady with a rosacea flare-up did. Being surrounded by
several universities came with its perks—and its annoyances.
    “I really don’t think I
need to be here...I’m just a tad woozy.” One twenty-something frat boy had
slurred to me. He had practically passed-out on me before we even got to his
outpatient room.
    “Just lie down right
here, if you need a bucket-”
    Too late.
    Vomit was now all over
the floor and bed. Thankfully, I was standing a good three feet away at that
point.
    With breath like a
sewer plant he said, “Whoops, I’m think I’m gonna need a-”
    I gave him a
vomit-catcher just in time for the next round. After I administered his IV and
the CNA cleaned up his mess, he looked almost gray in color. He was also
sweating.
    His story was similar
to the other ten-plus college students who had arrived here via car or
ambulance. A Ping-Pong binge drinking game at one of the frat houses a few
miles away had been their demise. Though this guy was still conscious and
breathing, it was quite obvious he had consumed more than just a few shots. I hooked him up to the necessary monitors.
    Trying to make him as
comfortable as I could, I gave him an extra pillow. Time and fluids were the
only antidote for him at this point. He was beyond any other intervention we
could offer.
    I checked in the hall
for Bev a few times to ask where various supplies were located, but she was
nowhere to be found.
    I’m sure Dr. Thomas
knows where she is…
    I made do fine on my
own though, as usual. Turning to leave so I could update the doctor on my
patient’s condition, my wrist was yanked behind me. I stumbled to find my
footing. In an instant, I was pulled to the bedside of my inebriated patient.
My wrist ached under the strain of his tight grip.
    “Nurse, you sure are a
pretty little thing.”
    He breathed hard in my
face as his head wobbled left and right. His eyes were still glazed-over, but
even still, they held in them a sickening focus.
    “Thanks, now please
release my wrist...Travis,” I said, trying not to agitate the look of
aggression on his face.
    I learned once that
using a person’s name could shock them back into reality, but now I questioned
if that logic worked on drunks. I doubted it. His grip didn’t loosen in the
slightest. The strength of the intoxicated never ceased to amaze me. “If I
wasn’t so attached to these ma-chines, I’d show you a real good time darlin’,”
he said. His emphasis on the word machines sounded like rocks in a
dryer—hideously annoying.
    His face contorted as
he spoke, not like that of a predator per say, but of a boy who had played the
field at least a few dozen times and wasn’t used to rejection.
    “I’m not interested,
please let go of my wrist.”
    My voice was stronger
now—more intense. I pulled and twisted, fighting for release. Suddenly, he was
sitting upright at full attention. His other arm came around my backside,
bringing with it the monitor wires and his IV bag.
    I was