Emerging on the fifth floor, the medical students spun on their heels, not sure of which direction to take. Susan took the lead by walking down the corridor to the nurses’ station. Like the OR area below, the nurses’ station on Beard 5 was a beehive of activity. The ward clerk had his right ear glued to the telephone getting A.M. stat blood-work reports. The head nurse, Terry Linquivist, was checking the OR schedule to be sure the pre-op meds had been given to those patients who would be called within the next hour or so. The other six nurses and three LPNs were in all stages of endeavor trying either to get those patients to surgery who had been called or to take care of those patients whose surgery was already part of the past.
Susan Wheeler approached this area of directed activity with an outward show of aplomb, carefully concealing her inner uncertainties. The ward clerk seemed the most accessible.
“Excuse me, but could you tell me …” began Susan.
The ward clerk raised his left hand toward Susan. Tell me that hematocrit again. There’s pandemonium here,” he shouted into the telephone he held between his head and cocked-up shoulder. He wrote on a pad in front of him. “And the patient had a BUN ordered tool” He looked up at Susan, shaking his head about the person he was talking to on the phone. Before she could say anything, his eyes went back to the patient’s chart he had out. “Of course I’m sure a BUN was ordered.” He frantically looked through the chart to find the order sheet. “I filled out the lab request myself.” He checked in the order sheet. “Look, Dr. Needem is going to be bananas if there’s no BUN. … What? … Well if you don’t have enough serum get your ass up here and get some more. The patient is scheduled for eleven. And what about Berman; you got his lab work now? Of course I want it!”
The clerk looked up at Susan, keeping the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder. “What can I do for you?” he asked Susan rapidly.
“We’re medical students and I wondered if …”
“You’d better talk to Miss Linquivist,” said the clerk suddenly as he looked down at his paper and began madly scribbling figures. He paused long enough to extend his pencil toward Terry Linquivist for Susan’s benefit.
Susan looked over at Terry Linquivist. She noted that the nurse was probably about four or five years her senior. She was attractive in a wholesome sort of way, but definitely overweight according to Susan’s taste. She seemed no less busy than the clerk but Susan was not about to argue. With a quick glance at the rest of her group, who were more than willing to let Susan take the initiative, Susan walked up to Miss Linquivist.
“Excuse me,” said Susan in a polite tone, “we are medical students assigned to …”
“Oh no,” interrupted Terry Linquivist, looking up and then rapidly putting the back of her right hand to her forehead as if she were in the throes of a migraine attack. “Just what I need,” said Linquivist to the wall, carefully emphasizing each word. “On one of the busiest days of the year, I get a new batch of medical students.” She turned to Susan and eyed her with an obvious air of exasperation. “Please don’t bother me now.”
“I don’t intend to bother you at all,” said Susan defensively. “I was just hoping you could tell me where the Beard 5 lounge is.”
“Through those doors opposite the main desk,” said Terry Linquivist, mellowing slightly.
As Susan turned and moved toward her group, Terry Linquivist called out to one of the other nurses. “You’re not going to believe it, Nance, but today is going to be one of those days. Guess what we just got? … We got ourselves a new group of green med students.”
Susan’s ears, sensitized as they were, could pick out a few sighs and groans from the Beard 5 team.
Susan moved around the clerk’s desk. He was still on the phone and still writing. She walked toward the two plain white doors opposite the desk. The others fell in beside her.