Deadly Dosage (25 page)

Chapter
32

Monday,
February 20th

The Beatles were singing “Good Day Sunshine,” and I
was trying everything in my power to stay on the icy road. The snow had changed
to sleet sometime during the night and though the trees glistened beautifully,
they were not a pleasant sight.

     “You asshole!” I swore as an old man cut in front
of me. “Turn in your license, you old fart.”

     The speed limit was forty. My speedometer read
thirty. I know I was leading a parade, but whenever I increased my speed, my
car fishtailed.

     Less than a block to go and I was home safe. I
wondered if Sam’s 4x4 handled better in these conditions. The Kia’s front wheel
drive worked in the snow but not this stuff.

     Finally, I pulled into the lot without a major
accident. I did a silent prayer of thanks and parked. In spite of leaving twenty
minutes early, I still arrived five minutes before start time.

     Phyllis wasn’t in yet, so I made a fresh pot of
coffee before I opened the front desk. I unlocked the front office door and
turned on the copier. I changed the date on the postage meter to February 20
and went back to the front desk to sort the weekend mail. It was President’s
Day, so there would be no mail today.

     Usually I left this for Shantel, however I was
still waiting on a check from Mrs. Jablonski’s family and from Mr. Schroeder’s
daughter.

     I flipped the phone off night ring and had five
minutes of peace until the first call came in. The word hate wasn’t strong
enough for the way I felt about Mondays.

In the span of twenty minutes,
ten nurse aides called off and three nurses rang to say they had calls into
doctors and would I kindly let them know when the calls were returned. I took
down each name, and the doctor they were waiting on.

     Saturday’s mail produced no checks. I put the
resident mail in one pile and sorted the rest. I took a few minutes to put each
letter in the proper cubbyhole. The administrator needed to pick up her mail. I
could barely squeeze anything else in the little space.

     Coffee stopped brewing, so I poured a cup and
added my usual helping of cream and sugar. I tasted it. Foul. I added another
packet of sugar. Semi-Foul. It would have to do. I needed the caffeine.

     The end of the month was coming, which meant I
needed to call insurance companies for coinsurance monies and make collection
calls. I hated doing both. Neither could be done at the front desk.

     I turned on the computer. I could run a few
reports up here and find out who owed the most money. Trying to collect money
required a certain amount of finesse. It required a dose of compassion followed
by a suggested payment plan. Can I pay $20 per month? On this balance, I
require at least ten percent or $30 I would counter. I would settle on $25.
Lots of people told me the care sucked and they’d sue me.

     The phones were busy until Shantel arrived, ten
minutes late. By that time, I had highlighted all of the delinquent accounts
and made a list of all the insurance companies I needed to call. I put my pile
of reports in a stack and waited for Shantel to return with her vending machine
breakfast of chocolate donuts.

     She opened the door and came in, putting the
donuts on the desk.

     “Just let me get some of that nasty old coffee,
Sunny.” She strolled over to the coffee maker with her mug.

     I answered two more calls while I waited.
Monday’s were typically busy days. Everybody ready to work after the weekend,
hoping to finish everything so they could relax by Wednesday and coast to the
next weekend.

     “Okay, Sunny, I’m ready. Go do your census before
The Hawk arrives.”

     “I was just thinking the same thing.”

     I grabbed my coffee mug and my pile of reports
and went back to my office. I printed off a few census sheets and wrote down
the beginning numbers from Friday morning.

     Today, I needed the numbers based on the midnight
census for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night. I knew Donna was expecting a
couple of new admissions as well.

     I took my pages and my mechanical pencil with the
new eraser and went off to the Medicaid wing.

     The residents were watching
Ellen
in the
lounge area. I’m guessing it wasn’t programming of their choice. Half of them
were dosing in their wheelchairs, while the nurses were glued to the television
screen. I walked to the nurses’ station and checked the census sheets I
supplied for them on Friday. Only one form was completed. I looked around and
spotted Susan, the unit LPN. I waved her over and she took her good-natured
time to walk back to the desk.

     “What?” she said rudely. “I’m kind of busy right
now. Can you come back?”

     “No. I need to get the census done for Phyllis.
Only one of these is filled out.”

     “We had agency staff this weekend.”

     “Fine, but I need the numbers. Can you tell me
who went out to the hospital this weekend?”

     She dug through some paperwork before doing a
head count in the lounge.

With pen in hand, she wrote as
she spoke. “Mrs. Moore went out Friday before midnight and hasn’t returned. Mr.
Knox was discharged home Saturday. And...” she shuffled a few papers, “Mr.
Clements expired Sunday morning.”

     She shoved the papers at me.

     “Thanks,” I said but didn’t mean it.

     I made my way quickly through the Alzheimer’s
wing. Some of the residents were milling about but I avoided eye contact.

     I learned quickly to avoid wearing white or to
make eye contact in the residents’ living space. Too many residents assumed you
were a nurse and asked for assistance. For liability reasons, I could not offer
mine. The residents thought I was indifferent and/or rude.

     One wing left. I strolled down the wallpapered
hallway and opened the doors to the Medicare wing. I stopped at the nurses’
station and gathered the forms. For the most part, they were completed. The two
new admissions were listed and poor Mr. Schroeder had gone back to the hospital
on Sunday. I needed to find out how many times he had gone out in total.

     As I was passing Mr. Harper’s room, he waved me
in. “Hi, Mr. Harper,” I said with genuine affection. “How was your weekend?”

     “Oh fine. Lloyd came by with his mother on
Saturday. Dropped her off and stopped in for a short visit. Brought me some
nuts. My other son is always too busy to stop in.” He motioned for me to come
closer. He reached behind his pillow.

     “I took this Sunday morning, before Rodney’s
daughter left. She went out to talk to the nurse and I swiped it off the table.
I told Rodney to say he drank it.”

     Mr. Harper handed me a full bottle of orange
juice. I took it from his outstretched hand.

     “He drank a bottle on Friday and Saturday before
I could stop him. I didn’t want him to drink this one, but I guess it didn’t
matter. Did you know he’s in the hospital?”

     “I just found out. Listen, I’m seeing Lloyd
tomorrow, I’ll give this to him, and maybe he can give it to John Tarver, the
guy who works in the lab.”

     “Is Lloyd coming here tomorrow? He didn’t say
anything to me.”

     My cheeks reddened. “Um, no, he and I are going
out for a bite to eat tomorrow night.”

     “Are you now?” He beamed. “Good girl. Tell him
his dad says he better treat you right.”

     I laughed. “Okay, I’ll do that.” I waved the
bottle at him. “Thanks for this. I have to go back to work now.”

     “Bye, Sunny. Don’t let them work you too hard.
Keep the sunny side up!”

     I gave him a little wave and left. I didn’t know
much if anything about poison, so I didn’t know if the OJ should be
refrigerated. It probably was a moot point, since the OJ was warm already. I
decided to store it in my desk drawer. Chances were if I put it in the work
refrigerator, someone would drink it.

     I considered going back for Mr. Schroeder’s
medical chart, but decided to read the nurses’ notes on the computer. If they
were missing, I could always come back. Right now, I had to get the census done
before The Hawk was breathing down my neck.

     It took me almost three hours to complete the
weekend census and update the new admissions in the system.

     “Sunny?”

     I picked up the phone. “Yeah, Shantel?”

     “You have a flower delivery here.”

     I smiled as I hung up the phone and tried to hide
it when I reached the receptionist desk.

     “Open it here,” she said loudly, “looks like
roses.”

     What I wanted was to open them in my office, but
I untied the ribbon and opened the box. Shantel had guessed correctly. One
dozen long stemmed red roses with baby’s breath.

     “Oooo honey. Those are fine. Expensive this time
of year too. Who sent them?”

     Yeah, who I wondered. I opened the card.

Sweetheart -

I’m reasonably sure I can
top yesterday afternoon,

if your answer is yes.

Love, Sam

     I laughed. It was pure Sam, incorrigible as
always, and as he knew, it would make me ache to repeat the events of yesterday
afternoon. No fair Sam.

     “So who sent them?”

     “Sam,” I said to Shantel.

     “Red is the color of love.” She smelled them.
“They sure smell nice. There’s a bunch of vases in that cabinet in the
bathroom. Why don’t you put them in some water?

     “Yeah, I will.” I took the box into my office and
went in search of a vase. Sam had succeeded in one-up-man-ship on Lloyd’s pink
roses. However, I thought both were equally lovely.

     The bathroom stunk to high heaven when I walked
into it. I covered my nose, found a vase, and left before I got blamed for the
smell.

     I used the bathroom in an unused resident room to
fill up the vase. I saw Phyllis coming, so I hid until she turned the corner.
So I wouldn’t pass her, I came around front and entered through the reception
area.

     In my office, I arranged the flowers nicely and
tucked the little card in its envelope into my handbag. I didn’t want everyone
in the building asking what Sam’s message meant. That would be our little
secret.

      I had about an hour before Shantel left, for
lunch, so I made a quick call to Sam at work.

     “Sam Sheridan, Engineering,” he said confidently.

     “Hi, handsome,” I said flirtatiously.

     “Hi, sexy lady.” Lowering his voice he said, “Did
you call for phone sex?”

     “No, but I’m not opposed to it,” I said
suggestively.

     “Love to, but I’m afraid it will have to wait. No
privacy around here. I can’t exactly beat off at my desk or in the men’s room.”

     I laughed into the receiver. “You kill me, Sam. Actually,
I called to thank you for the beautiful roses. I like the card.”    

     “I only write the truth.”

     “I’ll hold you to that.”

     “I’d like to hold you now. But, my boss is
coming. Give me a kiss.”

     I kissed the receiver and said goodbye and he
hung up.

     The sweet smell of the roses hung in the air and
the playful repertoire with Sam sent me into fantasyland. The sound of
Shantel’s voice broke the spell.

     “Mmm hmm,” I said.

     “Lady here to talk to you about her mother’s
bill.”

     “Send her back,” I said disdainfully. I looked at
my roses and pouted. I stood up and went to my door.

     I greeted the woman and showed her to a seat.
“How may I be of help?”

     “My mother, Ester Jablonski passed earlier this
week and I received this bill. She had Medicaid, so I don’t know why I’m being
billed.”

     “Donna Dombrowski, the admissions director, told
me your mother was denied for Medicaid. You failed to supply the caseworker
with the needed documentation in a timely manner. I called you and left
messages and I sent out a letter.”

     “I had too many things to do. I didn’t have time
to collect all of that financial paperwork they wanted. Why couldn’t they call
the banks and IRS themselves?”

     “Because it’s not their job. They have literally
hundreds of cases each. That’s why they send you a list of items they need. I
already supplied them with the income amount that I was aware of from her
Social Security check.”

     “So now what?”

“Well, Medicaid will go back
three months from the approval date of an application. You can gather all the
needed information and reapply quickly to see if at least some of her expenses
will be covered.”