Leaving Normal Stef Holm (classic literature books TXT) 📖

boots hitting the wall in the small space. Half-aware of a plant bowl and glass table behind him, he focused on his job. Elsie gave him a little resistance as he held her fragile wrist and slipped the oximeter on her finger to measure the beats of her heart.

"What are you putting on my finger?" Her voice was uneven, a mix of bossiness and fright.

"A pulse oximeter," Tony explained in a reassuring tone while wrapping the cuff around her upper arm. "It reads your oxygen saturation to see if you're getting enough oxygen."

"What did I do to get all these good-looking men?" she asked once more.

"You threw up, Elsie." Captain Palladino stood next to the charge nurse of the Swallow Hill Assisted-Care Living Center. To her, he asked, "What did she eat for dinner?"

"Seafood Newburg."

"I ate that yesterday," she insisted, feebly touching her gray hair in confusion.

There was a pink stain on the beige carpet where, the attendants had cleaned the vomit.

"How much did she throw up?"

"I don't know. It was cleaned up before I was called into her room."

Captain Palladino inquired, "What's her medical history?"

The nurse referred to Elsie Fisher's chart. "She has mild dementia impairment, cardiovascular disease and here's a list of her meds. At nine o'clock she had her last pills."

"I don't have dentures," Elsie complained.

Tony read the oximeter and determined she needed oxygen. He got out the narrow canister and airline, ex-plaining what he was going to do. "You need to have this by your nose, Elsie."

"Have what?"

"It's oxygen. It'll help you breathe better."

"I'm breathing just fine. I'm not dead." Looking beyond the bed to the sitting area of her residence, she asked, "Who are you?"

"Wally, ma'am."

"What do you want?"

"We're here to help you."

Walcroft stood back in the small bedroom area as three paramedics from Medic 51 arrived and were briefed by Captain Palladino.

There was an unspoken reluctance to give up medical territory from the firemen, who were usually first on the scene, to the paramedics. While the medics worked for Ada County, they were an independent source of transport for patients. Tony didn't always agree with their tactics to get a patient to one of the local hospitals. When a patient gave consent to be taken by the paramedics, a trip on the gurney set someone back about a thousand bucks. Most, if not everyone, thought the ride was a courtesy of the city. Not true.

As the paramedics worked on Elsie, Tony rose to his feet and backed away. His leg knocked the glass table and the plant tipped over. Shit.

Reaching down, he gathered the cluster of bulb stalks and placed them back into the polished rocks where they'd been rooted. He did his best to straighten the plant and make it look as good as it had before, but his efforts weren't entirely successful.

Sometimes he felt like a bull in a china shop in these tiny rooms.

The medics talked to Elsie, tried to convince her that she should go to the hospital. Tony gritted his teeth, saying nothing. The fact was, he couldn't be one-hundred-percent sure if she would be okay here, or if she should be admitted.

"All these good-looking men are for me?" Her voice was feeble, her breathing slightly labored.

Tony wouldn't say that all six of them were that good-looking. Two of the medics were slouches, but that was just his opinion.

"Elsie," one of the medics said in a calming voice, "we're going to have to start an IV on you."

"Oh, not that!" she cried. "No needles."

"I promise I will do my best not to hurt you."

"No needles!" She waved him off with her hand, tears gathering in her watery blue eyes.

A measure of compassion worked through Tony, an amount that he acknowledged wasn't nearly as strong as it had been when he first started the job. He felt badly for patients, but if he took in everything he saw and internalized it, he'd take things too personally—unless they were kids. He had a fourteen-year-old boy die last summer. It was a bad scene. Family was over at the house for a reunion and the boy died unexpectedly. No medical problems, no drugs. The medics thought an embolism broke loose in his lungs. Tony had thought about that boy for days after, still did.

Easing out of the room, Tony talked to Walcroft, then glanced at the kitchen and sitting area while Elsie was being worked on. It was human nature to be curious about cleanliness, pictures, hobbies.

Elsie Fisher was more than just a patient he was attending, she had a life and family. He couldn't help but think about that.

A bouquet of old flowers were centered on the kitchen table. Petals fell on a doily, sprinkled across the table's surface. He was reminded of a different bouquet, the one Natalie had unknowingly made for herself.

He wondered what she thought about him giving her the flowers last night. He'd waited until early evening to put them on her porch. Knowing that she usually didn't get home until after six, he'd taken a chance she'd arrive at her normal time and the flowers wouldn't be ruined in the cold. When she didn't arrive, he'd had to shove aside disappointment. He waited for a while, glancing out the window, then went to bed.

Natalie had crossed his mind several times today. He had a vague dream about her, one that caused him to wake at three in the morning to an empty bed. He couldn't remember much about it, just that he smelled her in his sleep. That feminine scent of roses and carnations.

Continuing his cursory glance, Tony noted there were a lot of china figurines on the shelves, the coffee table and the side table. Thank God he hadn't broken one of them. Elsie collected angels, lots of them. There was a wall with photos and he leaned closer to make out a framed letter. She'd been a nurse in WWII. Black-and-white photographs when she'd been younger were sitting on a shelf. He didn't touch