I am truly thankful that Daddy hurried down and came to Jordan’s rescue. This hospital is a trip and I thought that my conditions were bad. They were, but at least I was able to get 4 ounces of water and a pack of graham crackers. They haven’t given Jordan a damn thing. There wasn’t much to pack to get Jordan ready to leave here. My father has already ended his call with the Mayor and is now calmed down in a sense. There is a knock on the door to my sister’s hospital room. A nurse that I haven’t seen before and that is clearly just coming on shift enters the room. She is nice and friendly…. Interesting. Somebody must have gotten the memo. This nurse is super skinny and fragile looking. Her ash blonde hair makes her look older than she really is. I am assuming that she runs the Peachtree Road Race every year. My mind wonders on and on about her, simply because I thought Africa owned this floor. I wonder if she is from Canada. Either way, she sure picked a damn day to show up for work. She doesn’t see the shit about the hit the fan. Poor nurse.
She can tell by our facial expressions that we are not happy campers. She goes to the wall and finds the hand sanitizer dispenser. It is empty. You can tell that she isn’t surprised by this. She goes into her front scrub pocket and retrieves a pocket size hand sanitizer to wipe her hands. “Ms. Jones, my name is Kaitlyn and I will be your nurse for the evening.” My eyes dart off to my father, which makes the nurse turn to my father. My father has a look on his face that makes me think he is trying to decide how he plans to deal with her. At least she is somewhat sharp and senses that something is wrong. “Are you guys ok?” My eyes dart to my sister’s IV and then right back to her. Nurse Kaitlyn looks at my sister and start to dismantle the empty IV. She can easily see why we are looking disappointed.
My father breaks the death of silence that is in the room. It almost feels like someone is about to get murdered in a scary movie scene. Calmly but steady, he starts to explain the situation. “I appreciate you coming to check on my daughter. I am expecting the Director of this hospital along with one of the top doctors from your emergency staff. Please notice my daughter’s condition. She has not been treated since she arrived here two days ago. My other daughter was finally notified and rushed here only to find her looking like she had been through hell. She has not received any of her regular medications, she has not eaten. It appears as if the IV that she has, was given to her in the ambulance that brought her here. You can tell from the dried blood around her IV that it is unsanitary and has not been attended. How is this possible in a level 1 trauma hospital? I am not sure how this is possible. Atlanta is such a progressive city. This type of neglect has enraged me. I am assuming that you don’t know anything about my daughter’s situation, so I am going to suggest that we do something about it and fast. Can I depend on you to do that?”
Kaitlyn looks as if she is in trouble and stuck. With a stutter, she responds “I am sorry about your experience. I will do my best to bring Ms. Jones up to par.” She goes about the room and I start to run down a list of things that are out of order. My father is still sitting and watching. His concern for Jordan is intense. I am worried about her too. Jordan pops her head up and states that she thinks she is about to throw up. Nurse Kaitlyn runs to get a plastic bed pan and places it in front of my sister. True to her word, she throws up violently. We are all standing around her. My father can’t stand and watch this much longer. He yells at nurse Kaitlyn to get a doctor in here now! I hold her hair up and the sweat is rolling from her head. Nurse Kaitlyn rushes back in with a new bag of saline and a new IV insert. She starts to undo the dirty IV and she cleans my sister’s other arm to place the new IV.
“Where is the doctor?! My father is now yelling and I see that this is making nurse Kaitlyn jumpy. I grab Daddy’s hand and tell him to calm down. It is clear to me, that nurse Kaitlyn is genuine in not knowing that Jordan had been treated this way. I can tell that she is moving as fast as she can to help her. Nurse Kaitlyn proceeds to give Jordan a shot of Zofran for nausea. Jordan still complains of pain and this takes my father out of the room. I stay with Jordan. My father returns with a man in a white coat. Clearly he is a doctor. He starts to examine Jordan. My father stands over him, watching him like a hawk. I feel overwhelmed. I am ready to run out of the door. It is too much for me to deal with. I am not selfish. I just can’t stand to be in a situation where I am not helpful.
Jacinta still hasn’t responded to my text message. It has me worried. I start to put on clothes to go down to the hospital. I have to see her. I have to check on her. I can’t lose her again. I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with Joseph about Cint’s condition. I realize that his plate is full, but he doesn’t know the half of what has been going on about her. I grab my keys and my phone starts to ring. “Babe!!! Come get me!” I can hear how anxious she is. I don’t like it. “I’m on my way!”
It is too much going on at the same time. I do believe that hearing a yelling voice is triggers my PTSD. It makes me cringe. I do not believe that this is a trigger that has been occurring since my “Doom Room” days. I think that it’s my father’s voice and forcefulness that scares me. It doesn’t matter that he is speaking to other people. It scares me all the same. I am ready to run and my head is spinning. My breathing has started to take over and I find myself bent over trying to catch my breath.
It appears that these people are used to getting themselves in over their heads. They are the least bit concerned that I have placed a call into the Mayor’s office. This doctor is clearly not the Director of the hospital. I am now going from a 5 to an 8. Nurse Kaitlyn is still holding a bed pan so that she can help Jordan with her vomiting. “Doctor, do you have children?” The doctor is caught off guard by this question. He had been questioning Jordan about her symptoms and because Jordan was busy throwing up, she had not be able to answer him. “Yes sir I do. Can you tell me more about the issues that your daughter is experiencing?” Is he fucking kidding me? “Listen, I know that you are not the directing physician of this hospital, I can tell by your lack of attention to appropriate protocol and detail of examination. For the sake of your stature, tenure, practice, and social reputation, I suggest that you call the directing physician right here, right now. I would hate for someone other than my daughter to flat line simply because this incompetent hospital and its’ staff refused to follow clear directions.” I pass the doctor my phone to make the call. “Sir, you can’t threaten us!” “Doctor, I just did! Please take it as serious as if this was your child that you were treating. Calling security will only confuse things and make this situation worse. Trust me on this.”
The doctor places a call. Soon there are two other doctors and one additional nurse headed onto the 12th floor. The Nigerian nurse rolls her eyes, not even understanding that her head is about to roll due to neglect. My father comes into the hallway and finds me slumped over. He realizes that something is now wrong with me. He gets me a chair to sit. He asks if I am ok. I tell him that Chico is on the way to get me. He is overwhelmed. I would be too if I were him. The pressure of the situation doesn’t affect my father. The actual sickness of both of his children is his pressure point. It does not sit well with him and this floor will continue to feel his wrath until everything is better with us both.