Deadly Dosage (8 page)

I skimmed through the aging
and found that his coinsurance was outstanding. Later I would call his
insurance company and find out why they hadn’t coughed up the reimbursement. If
I remembered correctly, he had a decent policy.

Going to the admission sheet
tab, I found that he was a retired industrial electrician who worked for the
Red Star yeast factory. I noted to myself to check his financial information
for a pension. Past experience taught me that there were family members more
interested in the parent’s money than their health.    

     Deep in research, I didn’t notice Shantel’s
arrival until she tapped me on the back. I jumped in surprise.

     “Hey Sunny, what’s Phyl got you so busy on?” She
leaned over my shoulder. “Mr. Schroeder, huh? I tell you, that there man’s got
more problems than a Pentecostal church without a modesty blanket.”

     I stared at her dumbly, clueless.

     “You know girl, for tossing over the women when
they get to rolling around on the floor while speaking in tongues.”

“If you say so.” We were from
different worlds. “Phones are nuts today. Did you clock in?”

     “Un huh. Morning meeting, right?”

     “Yeah, in five minutes. Just enough time to use
the restroom.” I gathered my notes and returned them to my office. I pulled my
census binder off the shelf, took a yellow legal pad, and headed for the
conference room. It was empty, so I dumped off my books and left to visit the
restroom. I still returned before anyone else arrived. I poured myself a cup of
coffee and took a donut off the platter sitting in the center of the table. I
chose a cream-filled, powder sugarcoated one that would have me belching the
rest of the day. At the moment, it seemed worth it.

     I bit into the donut and cream oozed out the
side. I licked it before it got all over my fingers and made a sticky mess.
Just then, I heard my name paged over the intercom. Shantel knew about this
meeting, so I didn’t know why she didn’t just put the call into voice mail. I
swallowed, nearly choked, and punched line 5.

     “Summer Kramer,” I said wiping my mouth on a
napkin.

     “Sunny, hi, it’s Lloyd Harper.”

     My heart beat faster. Be casual. “Hi, Lloyd, what
can I do for you?” That was a loaded question.

     “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said sweetly.

“Same to you,” I replied
happily.

“I enjoyed your company
yesterday afternoon, and was wondering if you might be available on Friday.” He
paused. “Um, I have two tickets to a hockey game… Philly Flyers vs. Milwaukee.
I’m not a big fan but I thought it could be fun.”

     Hockey? This is played indoors, I hope? My
enthusiasm usually didn’t extend to sports, but I’d make an exception in this
case. “Sounds great,” I said. “What time?”

     Some nurses and Betty, the therapist funneled
into the room, unloaded their arms and grabbed a napkin and a donut. Once, the
administrator brought in bran muffins in a futile effort to switch us over to
healthier treats. No one ate them. The same could not be said of the
crème-filled donuts. Since the majority of the nurses around here smoked
heavily, I figured the carcinogens would do them in well before the fat-laden
donuts.

     “Game’s at seven,” Lloyd said cheerfully. “Give
me your address, I’ll pick you up.”

     “Listen, my meeting is about to begin, is there a
number I can call you back at?”

     “I’m currently at a hospital. I have to keep my
cell phone turned off.” I wondered how he managed this call.

     I rattled off my cell phone number and asked him
to call back tonight. He agreed and hung up.

The phone rang once,
indicating it was an inside call. I picked up the receiver.

“I knew it was him,” Shantel
gushed, “I want the scoop when you’re done in there.” She hung up and I
returned to my seat a second before Phyllis entered the room.

Phyllis Potter is an
intimidating woman. At close to six feet tall, she towers over most of the
staff and likes to micro-manage. I heard it told that she worked her way up
from the receptionist position; she now held the title of administrator. A
beady-eyed, workaholic, she expected nothing less of the staff. She had few, if
any friends in the building. Even the residents feared her. I wasn’t frightened
of her, I just found her annoying and pushy. Donna nicknamed her ‘The Hawk’ and
the name caught on. The Hawk sat to my left, and pushed my binder out of her way,
nearly spilling my coffee.

The meeting began and ended
with suggestions for improvement by Phyllis. For thirty minutes, we discussed
the low census, keeping residents on therapy longer, progress updates on the
Medicare residents, discussion of a discharge date for Mr. Harper by Betty, and
an upcoming in-house seminar on hand washing. Oh goody, it’s about time I
learned how to wash my hands.

I picked up my binder, tossed
my used foam cup in the garbage, and headed back to my office, wondering if
Lloyd would call me once his father was discharged. I mentally shook a Magic 8
Ball, turned it around, and the word ‘doubtful’ displayed in the black liquid.

After I returned my stuff to
my desk, I stopped to chat with Shantel. The news of a Friday date impressed
her. She promised to give me some pointers before the week was over. I couldn’t
wait. I noticed Donna greeting a family and I gave her a small wave. They were
sure to occupy her time for at least twenty minutes or more. Shantel handed me
a stack of mail. I frowned and returned to my office.

I ripped through the envelopes
and sorted the mail by urgency. Most of it was stuff to file and I placed it in
my in box. A scathing letter regarding the care of an Alzheimer patient, I
would place in the administrator’s mailbox. Let her deal with it. Another
letter claimed I billed too much. That one would require further research.
Chances were my figures were accurate and they just didn’t want to pay. 

Time was ticking away and I
knew I needed the census done in the next hour. I took yesterday’s census form
and started my rounds. I zipped through the Alzheimer’s wing first, leaving the
Medicare wing for last. It seemed everyone was in the hospital lately. There
seemed to be a direct correlation between the increase in agency nurse staff on
third shift and the number of hospital admits. I couldn’t prove it, but it was
there just the same.

Chapter
12

In the Medicare wing, Betty assisted Mr. Schmitt down
the hallway. Mr. Schmitt came in a few days ago and his attitude was inspiring.
A cute, gray haired, little German man of eighty, he stood not much taller than
Betty’s 5’0”. He smiled at me and I gave him a thumbs up. His family adored
him, and his grandchildren covered his door with crayon pictures of the family
dog and cat. In no time, he would make a full recovery and return home.

No room changes to note. I
stopped in to say hi to Mr. Harper. I was hesitant about relaying any
information about my upcoming date with his son.

“Sunny,” he said all smiles,
“nice to see you.” He gestured for me to sit down in the chair next to his bed.
Mr. Schroeder was sleeping soundly three feet away.

“How’s it going? Looks like
you’ll be leaving here soon.”

“That’s what they tell me.
It’ll be good to get home.”

“I’ll bet your wife will be
happy.”

“Just between you and me, I
think she’s enjoyed having the house to herself. I snore something terrible.”
He snickered, followed by a cough.

“Maybe so, but I’m sure she
misses you. Is your son coming tonight?” A little fishing never hurt.

“Lloyd? Nope. He’s busy
tonight.” 

Baiting a little more, I
added, “Working overtime?”

“Think he’s got big plans for
tonight,” he yawned and stretched his arms over his head.

I felt my heart snap in two.
“You look like you could use a nap,” I said. I needed an excuse to leave.

He nodded towards his
roommate. “He’s better since his trip to the hospital.” He lowered his voice,
“Are you checking into his situation?”

“Secretly,” I confessed.

“Good girl,” he said
reclining. He closed his eyes.

Instead of returning to my
office, I turned right and headed for the vending machine. I needed a diet soda
to cool down. I was smoldering, just imagining Lloyd and his big date. Bet it
was that hussy I saw him with. Exactly when did he plan to call me tonight? I
guess if he didn’t care enough to see his own dad, what chance did I have. No
better than Sam. Of course, my feelings might be a tad irrational. I mean, I
just met the guy and for all I knew, he was engaged. Right now, I had to forget
Lloyd and get back to work before I was fired.

On my return, I bumped into
Donna. “Hey, got a minute?”

“Sure,” she said and followed
me into my crummy office. She sat down on the chair stained with I don’t know
what, and I closed the door behind me, checking first for anyone milling around.
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s up?” she said softly, “Are you quitting or
something?”

“In my dreams,” I retorted.
“Have you ever met Lloyd Harper?”

“Can’t say that I have. I met
Eugene and his wife Helen. Friendly people. Why?” Her expression was so serious
I almost laughed.

“Nothing bad, in fact it’s
good. At least it was good.” 

“What are you yammering
about?” she said impatiently, “Spill it!”

“I have a date with him,
Lloyd, this Friday night. Hockey game.” I blew out a sigh.

“That’s good, great! What’s
the problem?”

I summarized the events
leading up to our little parking lot adventure including details of the bimbo
from the restaurant. She gave it some thought before answering. While I waited,
I pulled out my census forms and started filling in figures from the previous
day. 

“So he had a date planned
before he met you, big deal. Happens all the time. It would have been rude for
him to cancel it. Right?” She gave me a palms up gesture and a slight shrug of
her shoulders.

“That’s plausible.” I said, still
feeling doubtful.

“Does he have a nice ass?”
Donna checked out every guy’s ass, and I thought it bordered on a fetish. Her
boyfriend Chuck had well-toned cheeks, not that I notice that kind of thing—much.

“Excellent! The rest of him
measures up pretty nicely too.”

“Forget the chick,” she said,
“he sounds promising.”

There was a rap on my door and
I saw the doorknob turn. “The Hawk!” I whispered in a panic. Donna jumped up
and pretended to be interested in my census form.

“So, did you include Mrs.
Penske, in the Medicaid wing? I admitted her yesterday after five,” she said
louder than necessary.

The door swung open and
Phyllis stared at us. “Where’s the census?”

“Ah, Donna was just giving me
some last minute up..updates,” I stuttered, “I’ll have it on the wall in about
ten minutes.”

“Donna,” she said crossing her
arms over her flat chest, “a family is waiting for a tour in the front lobby.
We don’t make money ignoring potential admissions.”

“I’m on it,” Donna said. She
gave me a grimace and skedaddled out the door.

“I’d appreciate you not
closing your door unless you have a family member in here,” Phyllis
reprimanded.

“What if I’m on a call and
it’s noisy in the hall?” I inquired.

“Fine. Just don’t make a habit
of it.” She turned and stormed out of the office. I enjoyed my small victory
and toasted myself with a drink from my icy cold, can of soda.

Shantel rang me at 11:30 to
tell me she was off to lunch. I took some of my paperwork with me to her desk.
Manning the front desk was also a necessary evil during the lunch hour, however
the inflow of calls was much lighter and more sporadic then the early morning
hours.

     I hummed along to a song on the radio, while I
posted some cash in the computer. The work could be brain numbing at times, but
posting payments eliminated balances, thus making it look like I was doing a
swell job.

     A cough thick with phlegm startled me. I looked
up at Mrs. Ethel Cerwinski. She had oxygen tubes in her nose and always made
gross gurgling sounds. She couldn’t help it but it made me gag. She handed me a
letter, and I thought of the hand-washing seminar. She asked me to mail it. I
agreed and she left. It already had a stamp on it, so I threw it in the
outgoing mail bin. Shantel kept a bottle of hand sanitizer on her desk, so I
helped myself to some. It made me feel a teeny bit better.

     I went back to my cash entries but stopped when I
felt someone staring at me. Once again, I looked up, this time to see Mabel
Zirkowski grinning at me. Her red lipstick was smeared on in two straight lines
and she wore a vest weaved out of plastic grocery bags. I bit my lip to hold in
the laughter.

     “Hi sweetie,” she said.