Comfort Zone

Chapter 23

There isn't a cup of coffee big enough to get me through the day, Miriam thought the next morning, but she tried anyway.

The 6AM call didn't help. Miriam had given phone orders for a late night admission, only to be woken by the nurse with a question. "I know the patient is on a low cholesterol diet, but he's requesting a cheese Danish for breakfast."

"Give him anything he wants," Miriam said, too tired to growl. At least she fell back asleep into a dream about pastries.

Some downward dogs, a buttered bagel, and out the door into the stifling heat. The sun beat down on her head and made it ache as she walked to her car.

Word for the day: crap.

Temporary pacemaker in place for nineteen hours.

Ms. Fielding looked pink and healthy, she was breathing fine, heartbeat as regular as a full moon drumbeat. There were only two problems.

One, she was still unarousable, and two—her daughter was at her bedside, and based on the fact that a folding cot had been wheeled into the room, she wasn't budging.

"Good morning Ms. Fielding."

"Dr. Gotlin." In contrast to Miriam, who still felt hot from the sun, the older woman looked cool and perfectly made up. Miriam couldn't help noticing the height of her heels.

"How's your mother doing?"

"She looks quite comfortable."

Miriam bent down and put her face close to the patient's ear. "Ms. Fielding! Lilly! Can you open your eyes?" she shouted.

"My mother's not deaf. She has exceptionally good hearing for her age."

"I see," Miriam said. "I'm going to examine her now, if you don't mind sitting back down." Miriam drew the curtain around the bed, aware that it was a tiny meaningless victory in the Great War.

Pacer box, dials and display all carefully secured on the bed—check. Wires intact and attached, hub snugly sewn to neck—check. The entire exam was normal, just as it had been the night before, but shouldn't she be awake by now? She hoped the neurologist could add something.

Marilyn gave a smug smile in farewell.

Miriam was still fuming when she go back to the nurses' station. Of all the awful people! Had Tati ever met this difficult relative? She almost smiled, thinking of the creative descriptions Tati would have likely come up with.

In the bathroom, Miriam found herself smiling again. Taped to the mirror was a paper entitled Difficult People. It was one of about a dozen hanging on the walls, reminding nurses to fill out certain forms in a timely fashion, to avoid overtime, to smile and be courteous, to inform the supervisor if unable to lift patient, to read all posted signs for updates...

Poor nurses can't even pee in peace, Miriam thought, bending closer to read about Difficult People. People like Marilyn Fielding.

"Difficult people, patients and family members present challenges daily. Oops. I said 'difficult people' and I vowed never to use that term again. Instead I vowed to use more constructive terms such as 'difficult situations,' or the 'difficult-for-me person.' The fact is that patients and families are worried and tense in health care settings, and under those circumstances many people do not behave at their best. They are not inherently difficult. It is the situation that is difficult."

"What difficult person put up that annoying crap?" she blurted out to the first person she saw when she left the bathroom.

"I did," said the head nurse.