SHORT STORY EXCERPT FROM BEDSIDE MANNERS

Text by Rosie Aranda

“Choose better, be better,” I repeated in the mirror, swallowing my daily dose of bupropion naltrexone. My skin won’t fall off the bone any sooner, so I might as well take advantage of this job’s pharmaceutical perks.  

Patient 00’s alarm blares, calling me to tend to her urgent needs. It’s depressing to see her bedridden and pathetic...as if she chose to be that way. Red sores stiffen every crease on her body, and the open wounds are tunneling into her spirit. If I were her, I wouldn’t even bother to be optimistic. 

Nurse Catherine Nightingale was already assisting her before I had the chance. The sunshine cannot be brighter in this room. Everyone adores this woman, my other half, as my fellow head nurse of St. Dymphna’s Hospital. In a way, Nurse Catherine motivates Patient 00 to accept the tasteless hospital food and sponge baths through her recovery. She’s even inspired the other mindless nurses to do their jobs. 

Dr. Luc also gives these nurses a reason to show up to work; he’s as handsome as the devil himself. He pursues greatness for the hospital, and the likes of Nurse Catherine. He respects me enough to let me work alone; I’d have to bleed out on the floor to get him to notice me.  

One day, I overheard Nurse Catherine talk about her plans after work: Dinner with her partner, then game night with friends. Must be nice to spend time with people...Mr. Caris doesn’t like to go out... and all my friends live three towns over. Why can’t I have a nice night for once? 

Leaving my shift, I sit in my car. I have the freedom to do whatever I want, yet I never envisioned a world beyond my house and work. What can I do? I drove around town and stumbled upon Nurse Catherine’s car outside Echo’s Trattoria. Her beauty radiates through the window; her partner loving her out loud. I couldn’t resist…somehow I ended up following them to their game night. Snap out of it Patrice! I finally went home and came to bed to Mr. Caris. I can’t help but think of how I just stalked my co-nurse outside of the office. How exhilarating! I can be fun just like her, charismatic like her. I deserve a life like hers if I try. 

As the days go by, conversing with Nurse Catherine has inspired me. All I can focus on is her poreless skin, healthy hair, and effortless charm. If working in this hospital hasn’t made her sick in some way, then she must not be working hard enough. When she leaves the duty station, I rummage through her bag to see what keeps her put together. Creams, makeup, vitamins, I’d rapidly journal my findings to buy them after work. I offer her rides home. I make home-cooked meals to see if what I make suits her palate. I watch her reactions carefully, adjusting, refining. What I am doing isn’t of ill intent, right?

Molding my body to be like hers hasn’t been easy either. Catherine is disciplined, active, sculpted, and makes our uniform look like clearance-rack lingerie from a costume store. I thought my current medication would scrub the surface, but it barely eroded the heavy foundation. I tried tailoring my garments to be more form-fitting, to fake the curve of my hips and breasts, yet my body could not compare to God’s favorite woman. 

A new set of nurses arrive at the hospital. Dr. Luc probably hired them because they’re young and tight. He wants to teach them how to be obedient and to serve. If he wanted them as good as me, he would’ve asked for my help. If my performance as a nurse hasn’t brought the admiration of Dr. Luc, maybe my looks will.

Patient 00’s alarm sounds again. She’s late on today’s medication. Seeing her, I almost felt sorry. The pills are so small, so insignificant, really, and yet the improvement is only ever average. 

Yet, a spark of hope went off. With the pen gently kissing the inside of my breast pocket, I decided to up her prescription: 40mg of Methotrexate, 400mcg of folic acid, 2mg of Estazolam for the night, and UVA1 phototherapy beginning next Wednesday.

She has to leave this hospital healthy eventually, so we shouldn’t prolong the healing. Upon delivery, Patient 00 was overwhelmed to take all these medications routinely. She should be grateful she’s blessed with an abundance of medicine and the medical care I give her. The malpractice of gratitude prevents her from growing stronger. With no other choice, she eventually complied. 

If Patient 00 can improve, why can’t I? I decided to up my own dosage. Just a few more…it can’t hurt.

Later, I found Nurse Catherine crying to herself in the bathroom. Her lover died from a car wreck, how devastatingly unfortunate! Consoling her, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself at how ugly she looked when she wept. “Here,” I said, offering my emergency baggy of pills. She’ll need it for the times when she eventually eats her feelings away. Her trembling hands took the bag, and a breathless, “Thank you, Nurse Caris,” escaped her lips. For the first time, I felt superior to my equal.

Weeks pass, and I’m finally noticing changes. My hourglass body has given me endless time with Dr. Luc, and he asked me to train the new nurses with him. The more we’ve interacted, the stronger the attraction. I stay longer at the hospital than at home, I don’t need hobbies when I’m the most needed person at work. My husband doesn’t suspect a thing, why question the breadwinner? Nurse Catherine takes a leave of absence for the funeral, leaving more space for me. Her weakness could not withstand the pressure of work nowadays. Patient 00 is having miraculous results with her healing journey and sleeping through the night with no aches and pains. Everything is in true alignment with me. 

One evening, as I was cleaning up dinner, Mr. Caris snuck up behind me and wrapped his arms around my ever-slimming waist, kisses adorning my neck. 

“How come you’re not a sexy nurse for me?” he asked. 

“You never seem to want my help,” I clapped back. 

“Well, I could use your assistance right now.” He spun and kissed me. I was immediately repulsed. An emergency eventually called me back to St. Dymphna’s, thank God. I immediately rushed to work.

Awaiting was Dr. Luc in the pharmaceutical station, alone. We don’t speak; he kisses me first. The rush from getting his affection made me melt onto his body. My desires were inflamed, and my guilt was dismissed. He fervently made his way down on me, his hands mapping my body. 

“Call me Nurse Catherine,” I whispered.

“Why the hell would you say that?” Dr. Luc snapped, taken aback. 

Awakened by my stupidity, I compulsively apologized. Did she possess me to say that in front of our boss? Have my insecurities escaped my mind through my mouth?

Slowly, the humiliation unmuted my ears to the sound of Patient 00’s emergency alarm, and we dashed to her bedside. Her heart monitor plummeted. Scanning her charts, Dr. Luc shouted, “How long has she been on estazolam? I never prescribed this!” The prescription crept up into a three-month period…I guess time had slipped from me. Dr. Luc called in the other nurses to revive her as I froze in shame. 

I eventually slipped my way out of the room, making my way down the hall. I eventually spotted an elderly man waiting at the nurse’s station. Trembling, he asks if I’m Nurse Caris. I cowardly nodded, my stomach dropping. This man was Nurse Catherine’s dad, informing me that she overdosed on the pills I gave her while mixing with alcohol. I was ridden with grief and guilt. 

I was only trying to help.

I was only trying to help.

I was only trying to help.

The fluorescent lighting flushed the color from my face. My thoughts scattered, slipping through my grasp. Patient 00. Nurse Catherine. Her dad. Dr. Luc. My husband. The hospital. How do I explain any of this?

Smoke began rising beneath my feet, and I inhaled every part of it. I close my eyes, hoping heaven will forgive me.

I was only trying to help.