Welcome to the Madhouse

Welcome To The Madhouse: Chapter Three

Chapter Three: The Great One

"Dr. Lord, I am Head Nurse Virginia Conti," the severe-looking woman almost spat out, biting each word as if it were tough leather. She scrutinized Grace, from head to toe, as if Grace was some repulsive unpleasantness she had just discovered on the bottom of her spotless shoe. The nurse did not bother to hide her disappointment at what she saw.

As Grace was about to respond, a booming voice blared into the nurses' station, yelling, "Nurse Conti, is that new surgical fellow here yet? What the hell is she doing? Taking a tour of the entire facility, while we are slaving away here? Hunt her down and remind her why she is supposed to be here!"

Nurse Conti just rolled her weary eyes and sighed in vexation. She switched the sound of the intercom off with a definitive slap of her palm. Raising her thick, curly eyebrows, Nurse Conti shot Grace 'the look' that communicated louder than words, 'Do you see what I have to put up with?'

"Welcome to Surgical Ward M7, Dr. Lord . . . I hope," Nurse Conti said, in the least welcoming voice Grace had ever heard. Nurse Conti gave another annoyed sigh.

"I am afraid Dr. Al-Fadi has called, at least three times in the last few minutes, to ask if you have arrived yet. Fourth, now! He is impatiently awaiting you in OR 1, in case you hadn't heard.

"The patient he is operating on was brought in from the far outposts near Dais, where there has been a lot of action lately. This patient arrived with hundreds of other casualties, in cryopods, many with very serious injuries, with the ridiculous expectation that we, here at the medical station, put them all back together nice and neatly so the Conglomerate can send them all back out to fight again!

"May all the gods that exist and even those that don't, give us strength!" Nurse Conti snarled, grinding her teeth and huffing out her cheeks. She rolled her expressive eyes, again, and shook her grey-haired head.

Grace could not help but stare at this woman, in wide-eyed astonishment. Not only had it been a while since Grace had seen anyone with grey hair, but she would not have been the least bit surprised if the Head Nurse suddenly began to change into a wolf, right before her eyes. Most people, nowadays, had their scalps genetically manipulated to prevent greying but, in the case of this woman with the severe, sarcastic demeanor, the grey hair pulled stiffly back into a tight bun lent an air of unquestioning authority and no-nonsense. She just demanded respect.

Grace imagined this woman tamed every last wiry, curly, defiant grey hair on her head, just to make a point. In a flash of intuition, Grace realized this was probably why Nurse Conti sported it. She probably viewed each doctor she met, as one of those hairs to be aligned and controlled.

"This way, Doctor," the head nurse scowled. The word 'Doctor' sounded more like an insult, than anything else. Conti spun around, abruptly, and marched off, not waiting to see if Grace was following or not. Grace suspected that Nurse Conti did not appreciate interruptions in her day - including the sudden appearance of a new surgical fellow, who had to be orientated - nor did she seem to have any patience for demanding, screaming, impatient surgeons.

Head Nurse Conti showed Grace to the women's change room, where Grace could lock up her gear and change into operating room scrubs, the universal horrid-green uniform of the OR. Grace was told, sharply, to: "Make it quick and not keep Dr. Al-Fadi waiting!"

Grace found a locker that she hoped would fit her duffel bag and, after stuffing most of it inside, threw herself against the door to force it shut. With her full weight leaning in to the locker door, she quickly palmed the lock and relaxed with a sigh. With all the new technological wizardry out there, why had no one ever created a bigger, better locker, Grace wondered? One where the contents of the locker actually sat in a different dimension, so that one could throw just about anything, of any size, into the locker and yet easily close the door? Grace groaned as she stood up and rubbed her sore back. She went in search of the baggy, shapeless, operating room clothing that had been her second skin for years.