October - Chapter Two

I stood beside a heap of blue and white linen sheets. They looked warn out and rough, not like those on my own bed at home. My soft fragrant sheets were ruby red, not faded and barely ironed. It’s a luxury that cannot be afforded in hospital. You’re there to recover, in most cases, and return home to your own comfy bed. You’re not there to relax and enjoy the stay, even if sometimes you never do return home. 1

“You know how to make the beds, don’t you Katelynn?” hollered Polly’s voice from behind the nurses station.
“Yes, I’m ok thanks,” I yelled back in an unconvincing voice. I did know how, and Polly knew I did, she had just seen me gawping at this pile of linen and thought she better snap me out of it. I’m glad she did.2

After wiping down the turquoise plastic mattress, I picked up the first sheet and began folding and tucking it in like I’d done many times before as a trainee. One thing I could never get use to was the thought of the many patients who’d laid between the sheets before. I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to them, and if they recovered, or if these sheets, the faded cotton sheets I held in my hand, were the same ones a poor old man lost his life beneath. They’d have been washed thoroughly of course, but it was just something I’d always wondered, and it was a question I could never respectfully ask. 3

I’d just finished patting down the top sheet when they wheeled him in. He sat limp, like that poor robin I’d found that evening. His head rested on his chest, his hands rested in his lap, his legs hung and his feet fell onto the foot rest below. I couldn’t help feel terribly concerned and touched my the obvious discomfort of this poor man. I discreetly moved away, and stood by the nurses station secretly observing the other nurses’ and consultants’ movements. 4

“Hello, I’m Dr Alan Pinter, you’re our new staff nurse aren’t you?” Spoke a brawny voice directly behind me. It startled me, and as I turned around it became apparent my stares must have been more obvious than I first thought.
“That’s Mr Edward Gray, over there. He‘ll be your first patient staff nurse…”
“It’s Katelynn, Katelynn Redwood.” I added.
“Staff nurse Redwood” he continued. “Here’s his notes, you should read through them thoroughly, and sister nurse Polly will give you further guidance as you need it.”
“Oh, thank you Dr Pinter” I replied, taking the brown folder and grasping it close to my chest. He just nodded and started to make his way over to Polly, presumably warning her she’d need to keep an eye on me. 5

I don’t know if it was his deep, husky voice, his jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, or his know-it-all stance, but Dr Pinter was the perfect handsome stereotypical doctor, as seen on tacky TV shows, and it was sickening. It made me want to pace up to him and with pathetic farce music echoing in the background, slap him with a wet fish and laugh as cartoon birds circled his head chasing flashing stars. 6

Instead, I watched him stride through the double doors into the neighbouring ward, even his walk seemed artificial. At six foot, he towered over the staff nurse holding the door open for him. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the door window, and proceeded through adjusting the back of his hair. It was then I knew, this pompous pig would be more trouble than I’d care for.7

Polly strolled over to reassure me her guidance was there should I need it. She then added I should not feel intimidated by Dr Pinter, and if I ever felt unhappy with something he’d said to me, I should notify Polly and she would ‘deal with it.’ I didn’t know exactly what that meant, nor did I want to ask, but I felt a little easier for knowing it. 8

It occurred to me how different Polly and Dr Pinter were, yet they worked together and seemingly made a good team. I pondered that it must be the cosmic balance of yin and yang, the seasons and even day and night that pulled them together. Polly was the positive side of a magnet; spring and day time. Dr Pinter on the other hand was the negative side; autumnal and night.
This was another aspect of the universe and nature I just didn’t understand, why for every yin must there be a yang? It confused me just like how my cat thought killing an innocent animal constituted as a gift, or why water swirls different ways at opposite sides of the world.9

Looking at the smooth brown file in my hand, I noticed the name label at the very top left hand corner; ‘Mr Edward Gray.’ I slipped my thumb nail between the cover and opened his file. The first page stated his basic information including date of birth, next of kin, and allergies. I noticed he was allergic to penicillin, just like I was. At the bottom of the page it stated current illnesses; Mr Gray’s said he had diabetes and peripheral neuropathy, a disorder affecting the peripheral nervous system. I remembered what my lecturer told me once; at least half of all people with diabetes got some form of neuropathy. I’d trained specifically to work in neurology and had seen the effects from mild to acute that came with the syndrome, but somehow this case had touched me already.10

I felt a pity sigh part my lips as my eyes moved over just in time to see the nurses lifting Mr Gray into bed. He let out an excruciating yelp, and as the nurses reassured him, he squinted his eyes in discernable agony.
“We’ll get you some more pain killers” I heard one nurse whisper to Mr Gray.
I looked closer at his notes, he was taking regular doses of Neurontin, an anti-seizure drug often used to relieve the pain of peripheral neuropathy.
Mr Gray had been moved to us from the O’Ryan ward, a less advanced neurology ward. If he was being moved to us it meant signs weren’t looking good. 11

As I finished flicking through the various charts, and test results in Mr Gray’s folder I could see a swaying movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up, and as my eyes came into focus I saw Mr Gray laying in bed waving his dark oak walking stick at me, and beckoning me with his eyes.12

“Where are my painkillers, young lady?” he grunted.
“I’m not sure, Mr Gray” I said, “Hang on one moment and I’ll find out for you.”
“Hang on, ha, to what, my youth?” he smirked. “Who are you?” He questioned with a wise-old-man hook in his eyebrow.
“I’m Katelynn” I replied with a intrigued and somewhat confused smile.
“I’ll just go and see where your painkillers are Mr Gray” I added.
“To you dear Katelynn, it’s Edward…“ His voice faded out into a husky murmur, and his eyes began to close. Turning around I saw the nurse from O’Ryan ward who’d promised him the painkillers, but before I could asked her what she was doing with them, she stepped over with a beaker of water and a pot containing two tablets.
Handing them to me she instructed, “For patient Gray” then she turned and exited out of the same double doors Dr Pinter had done.13

Mr Gray, or Edward as he had me call him, was a short man; frail with grey wispy hair that sat in a halo around his bare crown. His skin was wrinkly like he’d spent the previous hours in a warm bath and it was thin like delicate peach tissue paper. I’d looked into his eyes when I’d spoken to him, I saw his pain. But deeper, beyond the emerald and the bronze flecks that glimmered at me, sat a knowledge and a hope that contrasted one another, just as Edward and I contrasted each other. I saw the years of knowledge and experience fighting with the knowledge of the inevitable. Then the hope and vulnerabilities of a cure and a way out. 14