As soon as I round the corner, I spot a man in the chair beside Percy’s bed, maybe midforties, and his scowl backs up Susan’s gripe. We have a tricky customer. ‘Hi, there, Percy,’ I chirp, focusing on my patient for now, approaching to find him poking at a chicken sandwich. He glances up at me blankly, and I immediately know that today is a bad day. ‘How are you feeling?’ I ask, looking up to his drip, seeing another bag of antibiotics has been administered. He can’t seem to kick this infection. I take a quick peek at the readings on his heart monitor, not liking his erratic heart rate, and take his temperature as I check his charts.
‘How does he look like he’s feeling?’ his son pipes up, standing from his chair. ‘You feed him shit like this’ – he takes the sandwich from his father’s plate and throws it down with force – ‘and scratch your fucking head when he shows no signs of improvement.’
‘Sir, there’s no need to swear,’ I say calmly and diplomatically, looking down at the thermometer to find that Percy’s temperature is dangerously high. ‘Wow, Percy, that’s shot up quickly.’
‘What do you expect with subquality care?’
I inwardly wince, gritting my teeth. ‘Your father is receiving the best care, sir. And visiting hours are now finished,’ I say tactfully, forcing a smile at him.
‘Yes, so I’ve been told,’ he snaps. ‘I know how these places work. Throw out the relatives before you serve this crap so we don’t see the shit you feed our loved ones.’ He flicks a big hand out and sends Percy’s supper flying across the bed. It bounces off my thigh before it hits the floor, and I jump back, startled.
‘Sir, please.’ I stoop and blindly collect up the remnants of his father’s sandwich from the floor as I look at the monitor, noting the quickening of Percy’s heart.
‘And I bet that dirty sandwich finds its way from the floor back on to the plate.’
‘I’ll order him a fresh one,’ I assure him, rising and coming face-to-face with the arrogant arsehole. I step back, not liking his big body looming over me, pushing me into a corner.
I’m safe in a hospital, I tell myself, over and over again, trying not to display the anxious vibes that have sprung up on me. ‘You need to move so I can tend to your father. His temperature is very high and his heart rate is very erratic.’ I fill my voice with all the authority I can muster, pushing my way past him to tend to Percy. ‘Percy?’ I say, finding his eyes are closed. ‘Percy, can you hear me?’ He’s slipped into unconsciousness. ‘Percy?’ I reach for the emergency call button, but my arm is grabbed, and I look back to find Percy’s son snarling at me. I wrench my arm from his grip with a hiss of mild pain, now seething mad that he would hinder my attempts to care for his father. ‘Get your hands off me,’ I grate as I shove him aside and press the call button. I take Percy’s wrist and check his pulse.
‘What’s going on?’ his son asks.
‘He’s having another heart attack.’ Just as I say that, Percy’s monitor alarms start going wild.
‘Shit,’ I whisper, dashing off to get the defibrillator, hearing Percy’s son shouting behind me, demanding to know what’s going on. ‘Pam!’ I yell, grabbing the cardiac-arrest trolley and wheeling it back to Percy’s room, Pam hot on my heels. ‘Percy’s arrested,’ I say urgently, unravelling the leads on the machine as Pam cuts up the centre of Percy’s gown, exposing his chest.
‘Tell me what’s going on,’ his son demands, close by my side. I turn and bump into him, dropping the wires. God damn it, he’s getting in my way. ‘Tell me!’
I’m fucking furious that he’s stopping me from doing my job. Be cool, Izzy. I quickly collect up the wires and connect them before I turn to him, my eyes blazing, my jaw ticking madly. But I speak calmly. ‘Your father’s heart needs a shock to reset it. You’re in our way. Please move.’
He snarls, but he doesn’t retaliate, so I return to the monitor of the machine. ‘Clear,’ I shout, checking that Pam is away before I press the shock button. Percy jolts, and Pam immediately starts CPR. ‘Nothing,’ I mumble, looking up to see Percy’s face, now as white as a sheet.
A burst of activity breaks out behind me, and we’re joined by the cardiac-arrest team. ‘Two rounds of compressions,’ I tell them as I step back, giving them room to take over CPR and the defibrillator. ‘Low pulse and one shock administered.’
They take over and work on Percy calmly and swiftly while I fill them in on his vital signs, and Pam tries to coax his son from the room. The man is having none of it, shouting and hollering until I’m forced to call security to remove him. They arrive quickly, escorting Percy’s son from the ward with his arm up his back as he continues to shout and holler. ‘I’ll have you fired!’ he yells, squirming to break free. ‘All of you!’