Mr. Peter Chapman Pt. 01

Peter replies, "I own a set of scrubs. I will buy a Sharpie."

I'm annoyed with him, "You can tell me to shut up, but you stroll into town. You seem to have the knowledge of a doctor, take low-level jobs, and won't talk to anyone. All the women want you, yet you act like you bat for the other team. Many suspect you ran away from something, yet you have no history. How the hell do you ace an impossible test? It's frustrating to like you when we don't know anything about you. Did you kill someone as a child?"

Peter loosens up and laughs good and hard.

When he calms down, he tells me, "No, nothing sinister. I have not hurt anyone. You are right; I did run from my old life. I was a resident surgeon. Key word, WAS. It's hard to talk about still."

Tears are running down his face as he says, "I was married with a one-year-old child."

My exact words are, "Oh fuck."

Peter chuckles, "Yeah. That word 'was,' is a bitch. How about I get two drinks in me before you make me recount my story?"

I reply, "It sounds like I will need two myself."

Peter nods his head yes. I am nearly in tears. He had a wife and child. There is no way this ends well. It was so bad he ran until he got tired and stopped.

+++++

We're early still; there is plenty of seating, so we're in no rush to leave. He's been nursing his first drink; I'm on my third. Dinner was splendid. I talked about the city and my family. He seemed interested.

After a lull in the conversation, the dishes have been removed, and coffee is on the way out; Peter starts his story.

Peter tells me, "I don't want this spread around. Two weeks before I got here, I was a textbook author and a promising young surgeon doing his residency in Kansas City. My wife went to Missouri, where her parents live. It was my son's first birthday. I was working a thirty-six-hour shift, so she went home to see her parents.

"On. On. On the way home. She ... fell asleep ... at the wheel." A river of tears is running down his face. "I didn't recognize my own wife on the table; she was beaten up so bad. I'm doing the operation because the on-duty surgeon had too many to drink."

He pauses to collect himself. He blows his nose. People are looking at us.

Peter continues, "I couldn't save her. My child was dead on arrival. My family was wiped out in just one night because I wasn't there to drive them."

Because he's crying, I move to his side of the booth and hug him hard. The owners know me; I have been here enough with their daughter. The mother grabs my shirt to pull me out of the booth. I, in turn, grab Peter's shirt, so he follows me.

She pulls us out of the front room and into a small party room. No chairs or tables. Why are we here?

The mother has tears as she looks at them and then hugs Peter, "We all heard your story. I'm sorry for your loss. As a widow myself, you must move on. The fault doesn't matter, it happened, and it's not getting undone. I'll bet that the whole hospital wants you. Tala is a good girl. Move on, Peter. You won't ever forget them, but your wife would want you to be happy again."

I hug Peter from the opposite side. My breasts aren't nearly as large, but I know men love them. I have one on each side of his arm. When Peter stops crying, we're guided to the back door.

The mother says to Peter, "That was enough of a show tonight; let's give you some privacy, huh?"

He hugs her back, and we start to leave.

Peter stops and looks at the mother, "Hey, I still owe you for dinner." He starts to pull out his wallet.

The mother puts her hand on his, "Not tonight. Go home and think about my words."

She kisses him on the lips and then goes back in. He then turns and looks at me. He tilts his head. What the hell is he thinking?

Peter shakes his head, "Wow, you take me out on a date. Another woman kisses me, and you let her walk away. I'm not sure how to take that.

I smile at him, "You just paid the bill."

He looks at me some more and then laughs his ass off. He is so infectious that even I grin at him. He puts his arm around me, and we return to his car. It's a quiet ride back to the hospital. He drops me off by my car, jumps out, and opens the door for me. I take my time getting out of his car, forcing him to look at me.

I look deep into his weeping eyes and try, "I could help you join humanity tonight. No baggage or expectations, just some good honest sex."

His eyes look so sad as he says, "It's definitely not you. I'm not ready yet. I appreciate what you did tonight. You got me to talk about it. That was a good first step. Thank you."

As I walk to my car, he yells out, "Hey. Tala. You know. I'm doing you a favor."

I look at him as if he's an alien, in complete bewilderment. He laughs at my reaction.

Peter continues, "With all the women trying to get my attention, your life expectancy would have decreased tremendously if I stayed over tonight. Good night!"

He jumps in his car and is off. So, he has a playful side to him. Interesting. He's definitely coming out of his shell.

Chapter 4 -- Nursing

Beth's point of view:

An hour before our official shift starts, we have rounds where the incoming nurses learn about the carry-over patients from the previous shift nurses. We discuss any news or management issues. It's 8:00 AM, and Peter won't be here until 9:00 AM.

I start the meeting, "Good morning. I have big news for us today. Yesterday a new nurse was hired." Nobody's excited. The last few sucked. "I'm sure you have heard about the new guy in billing. You know, the beefcake."

Tanya offers, "Oh yes. I've seen him at lunchtime. He's seriously good-looking. Wait. He was in billing, and now he's a nurse? Are we that desperate?"

Beth asks Tanya, "What did you score on your RN test?"

Tanya responds, "Eighty-six, but there are a few trick questions."

Beth smiles, "Peter scored a 100. Gail, I want you to train him. Let's ensure he knows what he's doing and is not a test memorizer. Don't push him, ladies. He is quiet, shy, and humorous, and rumor says that he's run away from something. I say rumor because he's not talking about whatever his issue is. DO NOT PUSH him, or you'll be on nights again for a year. I'm serious about this. Ok, let's go see Mrs. Howard. She's ninety-three and recovering from appendicitis."

Right on time, Peter is in my doorway at 9:00 AM.

I ask Peter, "Come in and shut the door."

He came in and sat down in my tiny and messy office.

I start, "I have six nurses here during the day. I should have ten. I have no idea where your skills and experience are, so I am pairing you with Gail, my best nurse. Rumor has it that you're a quiet and private man. I'm not going to push you personally. However, we need to be happy, upbeat, energetic, and helpful when it comes to the patients. You need to be on the lookout for the common issues and anything that doesn't look right.

"I'd rather you question something and be wrong than do nothing and let someone die. That and being rude are two things I won't stand for. Any questions?"

He stands up and is ready to go. I wish he talked more. We walk around until I find Gail. She's doing vitals.

I knock on the door, "Gail, I got Peter here for you. Let's get him going."

+++++

Gail's point of View:

I order Peter, "Ok, Peter, let's see what you know. BP, temp, O2, and chart it."

The first thing he does is take her physical chart. Why? He logs on to the local computer and brings up her chart. He scans the notes quickly and looks at the last test results.

As he presses the button on the blood pressure machine, it starts to inflate. He attaches the oxygen sensor and puts a sheath on the thermometer before placing it in Mrs. Randolph's mouth. He hasn't said anything yet. After gathering the results, he adds them to the system and paper, then he addresses the patient.

Peter smiles, "Wilma, your stats look good. I'd like to see some improvement, but your vitals are leveling out with your historical numbers for having surgery just yesterday. Do you have any pain?"

Wilma answers, "Just a little, but I don't want pain pills."

Pet is smooth, "I can appreciate that, Wilma; I don't want you addicted either. I do want you to get good rest. As soon as you get back home, you will be standing and working too much. I don't want you coming back. If you're in pain, I want you to take something.

"Pain medicine is like chocolate cake. Sometimes, you only need a tiny slice, and sometimes you need a quarter of the cake. The pain pills work the same way; I have small and big ones. We'll start small, so you don't take too much."

As we walked out of the room, I asked, "Pain pills are like chocolate cake?"

I stop and explain, "It's simple enough a child can understand. That means one phrase works on everyone."

Two patients later, Peter took the vitals, reviewed the notes, and it was time to give Mr. Jenkins his shots. Peter is distressed.

I ask Peter, "You look concerned; what's up?"

Peter seems to have a dry mouth, "The prescriptions for the shots. It makes no sense. Their polar opposites. The first drug increases one of the blood factors of someone that's had a heart attack, and the other lowers the same blood factor.

I take out my phone, "Easy, you let Beth handle it. BEEP. BEEP. Beth, please. BEEP BEEP.

I hear, "BEEP. BEEP. Yes Gail. BEEP. BEEP."

"BEEP. BEEP. I have a Drug issue with Mr. Jenkins, 308. BEEP. BEEP, "is my message to Beth.

I hear, "BEEP. BEEP. On my way. BEEP. BEEP."

Peter comments, "With all these beeps, it sounds like a Star Wars movie."

Peter helps Mr. Jenkins use the washroom while Beth looks at the charts, Googles the drugs, then leaves for the hallway, where I hear an animated conversation that trails off.

Our next room is Billy Smith, an eleven-year-old boy that was in a farm accident. They saved his leg, but he's stuck here for a while. His parents only come in the evenings because they have a farm. Peter is entirely different dealing with Billy.

Peter walks in, looks at the charts, and then does the vitals.

While working, he asks, "So, Billy, do you follow any sports teams. I grew up in Kansas City."

Billy looks sad, "My family is a Kansas family; we suck at football."

Peter laughs, "That's not how I see it. You said your family is a Kansas family. You didn't say KU. You know that Kansas State's a pretty good team, and they're in Kansas as well."

Billy says, "Yeah, but their basketball team blows chunks."

Peter laughs, "Yes, they do. See, I follow the Chiefs and Kansas State for football and KU for basketball. Is it our fault we live in a great state with two great colleges?"

Billy excitedly says, "NO!"

Peter looks at him seriously, "Are you taking care of your leg?"

Billy, "Yes."

Peter softly says, "Why do I see red on the inside of the cast."

Sheepishly, Billy says, "It itches, and I sweat, causing it to stick to the sock thingy inside."

Curiously, Peter gets up and gets a hair dryer from the washroom. What is he doing?

Peter explains to Billy, "Back when I was ten, I broke my arm. I had the same issue. My mom is a doctor, and she took a hair dryer like this one and set it to the lowest temperature. In a pinch, a fan could work. It will cool the cast on the outside and blow some air on the inside. I don't want you getting cold or wet as that makes it worse.

Five minutes later, "I must go, buddy, but I will be back later to check up on you. You're doing great. I got a whole hallway of women that want to meet me. Take care."

I comment, "Let go, Casanova."

+++++

Beth grabs me on my way to lunch. I'm thrown in her chair, and the door is closed.

Beth leads with, "So, how did he do?"

I sit back, exhausted already, "I don't understand him. With the other nurses and me, he's a quiet, meek man. He walks into a patient room and evolves into this larger-than-life persona. Men, women, children, he's great with everyone. I'm not teaching him; he's teaching me. He has a system he follows precisely the same way every time. I mix things up to keep it interesting. He is consistent, so he doesn't miss anything.

"The drug problem, he was the one that noticed that. Those were surgical drugs, and he knew about them. He's been a doctor, and I would bet a surgeon at one time. There is no need for him to follow me." I laugh. "I would like two of the others to follow him. Maybe see if he rubs off on them. Rather than me, he is now your go-to nurse. He's the best we have."

Beth doesn't seem happy, "I need to find out more about this man. Don't get me wrong, I love having a quality nurse, but I am worried. What if a patient died and he overreacted and left? Will that happen again? He doesn't get any patients that might perish until we know more. You can use him as a resource. If he is a doctor, that's a big benefit. I will dig deeper. Thank you, Gail; go have lunch."

I go down and grab a chicken salad sandwich and a soda. I see Peter at a table by himself. I plop down across from him. He looks irritated to see me.

Time to have some fun.

I tell him, "Beth stopped me. She wanted to know if you were any good. I told her you were adequate."

He looks at me with a pained expression as if he doesn't know how good he is. That surprised me. He doesn't know. Oh fuck, I can't break him. Time to shift gears.

I follow up, "I also told her I could use a few more bums like you. You know, just some average guys. The rest of us could watch TV and rate you, men, as you walk down the hallways swaying your hips to entice us."

Peter snorts, how cute, then says, "I never have, nor will I ever, sway my hips. Men can't do that, and sorry, but there are no other men like me. I'm the family reject. I wasn't good enough for them."

He has tears in his eyes. He sets down his fork, stands up, picks up his tray, and says to me, "Sorry. I need to walk for a bit." He threw away half his lunch.

With tears running down my face, I text Beth, "Peter has several painful issues. He just explained one partially. Can Cara help him? A psych might help him talk through his issues."

Chapter 5 -- Cara

Point of view, Cara Matthews, Psychologist:

4:00 PM, HR conference room #1. I note Beth's attendance, head of Nursing, Tara, HR, Camilla Sanders of Billing, and myself. This group has never assembled before, and I have no idea why they need me nor what they have in common.

I start the meeting, "First thing is legal. Nothing discussed here leaves this room. Your job would be the least of your issues. Are we clear?"

Everyone nods.

I continue, "So, why have you asked me to come here?"

Tala lays it out in one easy step, "Mr. Peter Chapman."

Yup, I knew it. That man is so sexy. He has starred in several of my fantasies at night already. They all want him.

According to the background report, Tala starts, "He has two last names. I don't see anything in Google for either name other than the accident report he told me about."

Beth and Camila look at her with a quick look of fright.

Tara says, "At dinner just last night, he admitted that his wife and child were out of town, came back, and were in an accident. He operates on his wife and couldn't save her. The child was DOA."

Beth adds, "Damn, Gail suspected he was a doctor and possibly a surgeon. He noticed a patient getting drugs with the opposite effects. That should be a criminal investigation if he's writing RX to pad his numbers. Peter also told her that he was the family reject; he wasn't good enough."

I ask, "Camilla, why are you here?"

Camilla replies, "He worked for me for a while. I care about him. I suggested he should be a nurse. I'm beginning to wonder if I have helped or hurt him. He's a quiet and private man. He doesn't interact with others but is always polite and has a kind words. He showed up at the front door looking for a job. If anything, I think he's lost in life.

"Honestly, I'm not sure we have the right to fix him. The problem is, if not us, who? It appears he has nobody else left. Cara, I think you can help him. If he told Tala and Gail, I think he's reaching out in the only way he knows how."

I reply, "Tala, I want what you can share with me anything from the background report. I know people. I agree with all of you. He needs help, and I think he's trying to reach out. I will make contact and see if he wants help or not. I can force two sessions; let's see where it goes. You will not get progress reports on this unless he allows it for obvious reasons. I'm going to suggest he doesn't. I want him to tell you in person.

"If he reaches out, it might be because of me. Take any brass ring he offers; it will probably mean a lot to him. I know why you're doing this. He's a handsome man. Please don't push him to date. Also, know that he may be gay, non-sexual, or will need lots of time. Even then, only one lucky woman will win. Four of us are here, but I can assure you that many others have noticed him. I got what I needed; thank you all for being kind and caring. It shows a lot about how special all of you are."

+++++

Thursday, 9:15 AM in Cara's office.

A tall, ruggedly handsome man is standing in my doorway. He looks embarrassed and sad at the same time. I can see why these women swoon for him. He's cute without being cocky. Oh my, he's the best boyfriend I would ever have. Nobody in this area and maybe the state is as striking as he is.

When my face lights up, and I smile at seeing him, he blushes and almost has a smile on his face.

I stand up and wave him in, "So. You're the man that practically every woman in the hospital is talking about. Please close the door for us. Thank you." I shake his gentle hand. "Please, have a seat."

We both sit.

Now I can start, "Let me first say, these first two sessions are mandatory. You are in an area that will see death. That brings you to me like every other nurse and doctor here. They may not be your family, but it's hard not having feelings after treating them. The second reason is, frankly, the way you handle yourself. You have hinted at your past to people that care about you and are worried about you. You're not outgoing and happy. You seem to be going through the motions.

"This is NOT a problem by itself. However, your natural personality with patients has shown through. You are kind and have a lovely sense of humor. Your smile melts hearts. From what I know, it appears you're dealing with some serious issues. I am a resource at your disposal. You have the right to refuse help. However, the people that know you, care deeply for you, but they don't know how to help you. They came to me. I can help you if you let me. Would you like some help?"

Peter almost laughs at me, "It feels strange to be on this side of that statement. I've seen suicidal and abuse victims where I used those exact words. I can't believe I'm here. I can't believe what brought me here. Almost six weeks ago, my life exploded, and chaos ensued. I am lost in life, and I will listen to my own words and say, 'yes,' I want help. The people here have been great so far."

I say with soft, gentle, caring words, "We will discuss specifics later. Right now, in your own words, what's causing you to be unhappy?"

With a river of tears running from his eyes, he still jokes, "Wow, going for the jugular already."

He wipes his eyes and continues, "I had a trifecta hit in one day. Any one by itself is enough to do me in. It started on a late Wednesday afternoon. Both of my parents are doctors. Both have been involved in lawsuits they're likely to lose. Their insurance rates were going to hurt them hard. It was so bad; they were discussing retirement. Anyways, they're arguing between the two of them. I was checking my email and got my first royalty check.

To help get more nurses, I created an online course that handled all lessons in sample patient cases. All dialog is in conversations rather than dry text. There are links to videos and pictures to help explain things. I also created an adaptable test that based on wrong answers will hammer them with more of the same to verify deficiencies or mistakes."