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Post by hank jay grayson on Aug 21, 2011 11:55:47 GMT -5
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The emergency room was most definitely not Graysons favorite part of the hospital. Sure it was usually pretty busy and a lot of excitement went on. It wasn’t the kind of excitement Grayson sought out though. It was likely some doctors got a kick out of saving lives but it really wasn’t Graysons idea of a good time. Especially since where there was an emergency there was also likely to be a lot of bodily fluid. That was just not something he handled well. After thoroughly washing his hands in the bathroom, Grayson looked into the mirror and started to mentally give himself a pep talk before he walked down the hallway and to the waiting area. He was pretty good at covering his paranoia. It was starting to become more difficult though. He reassured himself that he would be alright and that it wouldn’t take long to get in get the signature and get out. Simple as that. Grayson used a paper towel to get the door open and then walked the few paces to a hand sanitizing station. He glowered when he saw it was empty. Someones head was going to roll. An empty sanitizing compartment meant more germs in the area. Instantly Grayson slipped his clip board under his arm and reached into his pockets to pull out the little package of sanitation wipes. He went through at least one packet of these a day. If one looked closely they could see the red patches of skin that he’d rubbed raw. It was painful but he didn’t mind. Anything to keep the germs off. Clearing his throat, Grayson made his way down the hall and pulled on his professional face. He just needed the signature from one of the employees and then he’d be on his way. &&&&&&&& [/blockquote][/blockquote] Muse:Very Good Tag: Open [/size] |
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Post by john marcus claxon jr. on Aug 21, 2011 17:37:14 GMT -5
Jack Claxon had decided an hour ago when he stepped off the elevator that the ER support staff were either on strike or on drugs, because everywhere he looked there were little signs of chaos: he soap dispensers were critically low--if not empty--the crash cart supplies were dwindling, and nurses and CNAs were transporting patients.
He'd been called down to do a mental health assessment on a homeless woman with severe pneumonia. As her breathing was too erratic to speak normally, she'd had to answer his questions with a dry erase board. It had taken a very long time to work through all of the questions, but he was glad they'd called him. As soon as she was stable, she badly needed the services of the psych unit.
When he went to the nurse's station to write up an order for arm restraints (to keep the patient from pulling out her IV again) he found they were running low on paperwork too.
"What is going on here tonight?" the psychiatrist wondered aloud, stifling the urge to curse as he took the third to last form from the filing cabinet.
His answer came in the form of a passing nursing assistant--"Been like this since shift change. The orderlies' carpool got hit by a truck on the expressway--they're in surgery."
Jack felt immediately guilty about his earlier uncharitable assumptions. Hadn't he learned by now the danger of jumping to conclusions? His paperwork filed, Jack turned to head back to the psych ward when he saw a smartly dressed man clasping a clipboard striding down the hall in a businesslike fashion. Jack nodded to him, recognizing the administrator.
"Anybody I can help you find, Mr. Grayson?" he asked, thinking he was probably looking for the charge nurse.
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Post by hank jay grayson on Aug 21, 2011 18:39:28 GMT -5
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Upon reaching the help desk Grayson spotted a familiar face. Dr. Claxon was an esteemed psychiatrist and well known throughout the hospital. What other did not know (Grayson included) was that the sullen look one might catch in his eye was due to the stress that came with a heart condition. Graysons experience with doctors wasn’t a very positive one. He liked the professional mentality of the hospital. However, many doctors seemed to be self-absorbed with their own ability to affect lives, even if they didn’t try to be. Dr. Claxon never struck Grayson as that kind of man. He seemed to be down to earth and level headed. He supposed a man had to been when in his profession. Grayson didn’t think much of metal disorders. He was more of a “if you can see it or touch It then it’s real” kind of man. If you asked him a lot of the people with these mental disorders just needed to get a grip. He didn’t realize how hypocritical this way of thinking was. ”Anybody I can help you find, Mr. Grayson?"Turning to face the doctor full on, Grayson extended his hand to him and returned the nod in greeting. ”I don’t think so. There’s a new nurse that supposed to be on duty this evening and I need a signature.” He glanced in the direction of the nurses station. He didn’t spot her, but he did notice the disarray it seemed to be in and frowned. It wasn’t too busy. There was no reason for the surface of the desk to look that way. &&&&&&&& [/blockquote][/blockquote] Words: 278 Muse: Excellent Tag: Jack [/size] |
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Post by john marcus claxon jr. on Aug 21, 2011 19:45:33 GMT -5
As Mr. Grayson offered his hand, Jack's eyes sharpened for a fraction of a second. He prided himself on being reasonably observant, and the angry red patches adorning the administrator's hand set alarm bells ringing in his brain. The packet of sanitary wipes in his other hand did nothing to silence them.
As Jack shook his hand he scanned Grayson's features for further evidence of the burden he suspected him of carrying, trying not to let his own concern write itself across his features. He wasn't sure how successful he was. He had seen these kinds of marks before, and they were usually symptomatic of a much greater problem. While was too soon to make any judgments, he was beginning to suspect this man was in real trouble.
The deep urge to leap in and make it better which had called him to his profession had stirred within the psychiatrist, but he knew this was a complicated situation. Mr. Grayson didn't seem the type of man who would take kindly to being confronted about his demons in a public place, surrounded by the rest of the staff. Jack would have to handle this as delicately as possible.
Jack sighed, running his hand through his hair. "It's a bit of a zoo down here tonight," he said, stating the obvious. He shrugged a little, following Grayson's gaze to the nurse's station. "But I've got to come down every couple hours to check on the patient in 147 anyway. I'm sure I could flag her down for an autograph if you'd like."
Jack was hoping he could get a moment of privacy with Mr. Grayson to voice his concerns, but inventing a reason, like he normally would, probably wasn't as wise with a man who could terminate his employment. Still, now that he has his suspicions, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't at least attempt to help. He supposed he would have to play this one by ear and hope for the best. "Actually, Mr. Grayson, I'm glad I ran into you. Do you have a moment?"
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Post by hank jay grayson on Aug 21, 2011 20:04:42 GMT -5
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Zoo was an appropriate word to describe the area, but it was the nursing station that held onto Graysons attention. He glanced back at the Dr. when he spoke to him before looking back to the desk top. Almost as if it were second nature, he quickly plucked a wipe from the little packet and wiped at the hand that had just shook Jacks. He told himself it was only natural to want to keep his hands sanitary. He was around sick people after all, and who wanted to get sick. It didn’t occur to him that someone might consider it an insult. He dropped the napkin into the nearest trashcan. "But I've got to come down every couple hours to check on the patient in 147 anyway. I'm sure I could flag her down for an autograph if you'd like."Again Graysons attention returned to the Doctor. He nodded, ”Her name is Maria Velez. She’s a health unit clerk. I was told she was stationed here but perhaps I was mistaken.” He started to make his way to the nurses station, expecting the doctor would stay near. ”His is your practice Doctor?” Reaching the station Grayson noticed the nurse behind the desk shrink away. He wasn’t surprised. One of the head nurses and he did not get a long at all and he knew she liked to talk badly about him. It didn’t matter though. He was still capable of firing her. "Actually, Mr. Grayson, I'm glad I ran into you. Do you have a moment?"He had no idea that the doctor noticed his hands. Before answering Grayson picked up a pen that lay down on the counter and dropped it into the little pen cup. He couldn’t believe how sloppy the nurses were getting. ”Yes. Of course.” With that being done he was able to relax a little. He turned to face Jack. ”I have about twenty minutes to spare. If you need more time than that I could probably drop by sometime later this evening. Or even tomorrow morning.”&&&&&&&& [/blockquote][/blockquote] Words: 343 Muse: Very Good Tag: Jack [/size] |
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Post by john marcus claxon jr. on Aug 22, 2011 6:58:44 GMT -5
If anything Grayson's hand sanitizing inspired concern rather than offense. Jack fell into step with him and made for the nurse's station. He walked half a step behind to allow for a little subtle observation. There were no visible signs of distress that Jack could mark--certainly nothing out of the ordinary. Truly, if Grayson's hand-washing ritual and the evidence it left behind hadn't betrayed him, Jack might not have questioned his state of mind at all.
In a way this was the good thing. By the time clearer symptoms manifested the case was usually fairly dire. Mental illness had some odd parallels to cancer that way. The question he didn't dare ask was how far into the rest of Grayson's life the malignancy had spread. OCD--if this was OCD--was an ironically messy illness to treat. The therapies available were very effective, but weren't without
Jack's eyebrows rose minutely as the nurse shrank from Grayson's approach as if she expected to be struck or shouted at any moment. Oh really? There was always the usual workaday grumbling about the administrators and their edicts, but outright fear was unusual. The psychiatrist made a mental note to make some casual inquiries on the subject later in his shift.
"How is your practice, Doctor?"
Expanding by one, hopefully, Jack thought wryly to himself. Aloud he replied, "It's everything I'd hoped and feared it would be." Jack chuckled. Despite his sardonic humor he made no attempt to disguise the fondness in his tone. Like the rest of his family, Jack was a workaholic right down to his bones. "And how are things going up in admin?"
He watched with clandestine interest to see if Grayson would sanitize his hands after touching the pen as well. It could be a valuable clue. There were different kinds of compulsive hand-washers with OCD. It could be triggered by a compulsive fear of germs, be specific to certain environments, or simply be a sense of "the hands must be washed" independent of germs. He'd read of many more complex and bizarre reasons, though he'd never seen any in person.
"No, I think twenty minutes should be perfect." He wasn't looking to dole out any long-winded lectures. Lectures rarely accomplished anything when it came to matters like these anyway. If anything, they made the situation infinitely worse.
"Mind if we head up to the third floor?" he asked, cocking his head slightly to the side. "I want to be in shouting distance if I'm needed."
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Post by hank jay grayson on Aug 22, 2011 21:14:59 GMT -5
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While Jack answered his question, Grayson felt the annoying tingling at his fingertips that set of wild alarms in his head. There were germs there and he could feel them. The urge to grab another wipe from his pocket was strong but he resisted it. He knew that would look pretty silly. So he stood as he was, the offending hand hanging at his side. He held it as still as he could. Subconsciously he thought if he didn’t move maybe the germs wouldn’t spread quicker. He had images of a tiny army of bacteria multiplying on his fingertips and marching their way up to one of the orifices in his head. The idea was almost unbearable and the discomfort started to show on his face. ”Mmmhmm.” He said quickly in response to whatever it was the doctor had said. He shifted on the balls of his feet while the arm that held the clipboard moved up to his chest, holding it against him. He quickly ran the words he’d heard through his head again and realizes he’d said something that was meant to be funny. Quickly Grayson pulled on a smile and gave a partial laugh. "And how are things going up in admin?"This sentence he’d listened to and Grayson tried to annoy the way his stomach turned when he thought about the germs on his hand. ”Been better.” He admitted, talking quickly. ”We’re working on a few grants and one of them doesn’t look like it’s going to go through. Apparently we have too many qualified doctors. You’d think the government would want to give us money for that sake.” "No, I think twenty minutes should be perfect.Mind if we head up to the third floor? I want to be in shouting distance if I'm needed."Grayson quickly nodded. He was glad for the excuse to get away from the ER. ”Yeah of course.” He said, already moving towards the doors that lead to the elevators. Right outside was another sanitizer dispenser and he pumped it quickly and started to rub the foamy liquid all over his hands before continuing on. At the elevators he turned around to wait for the doctor. He wasn’t about to push the button. &&&&&&&& [/blockquote][/blockquote] Words: 374 Muse: Excellent Tag: Jack [/size] |
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