Review, Revision, Edit and Update
'Write what you know' - a maxim that many, many authors and writing educators share. I know about various staff rooms and their condition from my previous nursing career - 'nuff said. Another area that many, in any workforce experience, are phones ringing....and ringing. I've learned over time that we are each surrounded by these sort of seemingly mundane, and definitely annoying, details. They become expressive when put in the context of the storied lives that we lead. There were few corrections that were needed....some of the mundane details of writing: a missing quotation mark, a missing period, duplicate words. They allow our storied ordinary details flow gently as we read.
A Rough Start
His keycard had not even touched the reader for his office door. Inside, the phone started ringing. He muttered quietly to himself “It’s started already and I’m not even in the door yet. I’m just going to let it ring.” Randall Matthews, Social Worker at Hartley General opened his office door. He stood still for a few minutes, breathing in the empty space of the office - except for the damn phone. When he passed his desk, he had glanced at it. The display panel showed that seven new phone messages had come in overnight. His bicycle cleats clicking on the floor he went to the tiny staff room at the back. He couldn’t help but notice the disarray. A tiny fridge that needed cleaning, dirty coffee cups in the sink and coats abandoned on hooks. He looked for coffee and the coffee maker. No coffee grounds, no filters……. “I’ll take care of that later.” Still talking to himself, a bit louder now to drown out the incessant ringing…..as soon as one person gave up, another person took over the phone line…… he said “I have to get organized first.” He hung up his jacket and bike helmet and changed his shoes. Hearing the office door open, Randall called out “Just a minute.” He checked himself in the mirror above the eyewash station. Smiled at himself just to practice and as he walked out, he smoothed his maroon and gold plaid shirt and bent to brush road dust from his denim jeans. While he was still head down, he felt a presence. Standing up slowly, he saw a man sitting on one corner of his desk. By his white coat and stethoscope, he assumed he was looking at one of the doctors. With a pleasant smile, the doctor spoke “Are you one of the social workers?” Randall replied “This morning I am the social worker. Who are you and how can I help you?”
Jeremy jumped off the corner of the desk and stuck out an elbow in greeting. He missed being able to shake hands, but this virus had changed many, many things. The elbow bump was born. Through his face mask, Jeremy introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Jeremy Crawford and I left you a phone message last night.” Randall had situated himself in his desk chair, began cleaning his desk and replied “Yes, I did get that message at the end of my shift and it’s on the top of my to-do list for this morning, but here you are.” From his bottom desk drawer, Randall had retrieved a container of Sani-wipes. While pleasantries were exchanged, he wiped his keyboard, screen, top of the desk with special attention to the corner of the desk the doctor had just vacated. Tossing the used wipe in the garbage, he then reached to another drawer, pulled out a fresh box of non-surgical face masks and put one on. He gathered up clipboard and pens, checked the paperwork he had left ready from the night before and stood to get on with his day. Hoping this Dr. Crawford would get the hint, he started towards the door. He didn’t move. So Randall stopped and said “I don’t have that much information for you, Dr. and as you see, I am only starting my day.”
Jeremy smiled at this man who, obviously, had not had a great start to his morning, but he did want to relay Emmie’s message to him and get a sense of what he had planned. Jeremy had already been on shift for an hour, but was taking some time - along with his pager - to see if he could talk with whomever the social worker was. “Would a cup of cafeteria coffee help? Then I can get out of your hair and both of us can get back to work. I’ll be in the hospital on my own shift til late tonight, but right now I’ve got some time and you look like you need to take a break already!”
~~~~~
Something about this man was very disarming. Randall felt himself relax and decided that he would be doing a disservice to patients, families, and other staff if he didn’t get his insides as organized as his outsides. “Dr. Crawford, that sounds like a great idea - even the cafeteria coffee. When I was back in our untidy little staff room, I discovered that there was not even crumb of coffee. So the cafeteria it is.”
The two men had managed a hurdle that had threatened to devolve into nothingness. Walking down the hall, their conversation was not about health care, but about cars vs bikes. “You just don’t have the same feeling of freedom in a car. Sure they’re pretty and powerful. I like driving, but on a bike ride home after one of these days, all the tension goes flying out behind me.”
“But a car. You don’t get wet - unless you have the top down when it rains. When you’re the only one on the road and you put your foot down, it’s a feeling like no other. Two coffee please, make them large. Here Randall, I don’t know what you take in your coffee so I’ll let you deal with that. Shall we take that corner table? A little more private.”
They both sat down. The big bright cafeteria with lots of windows was not yet filled up the noise and chatter of others. “Let me tell you my story first. I came on duty just after Mrs. Tyler was admitted, so some of my information is second hand. But I did see the photo that seems to have caused all the trouble. The name on the back is the same as the name of a dear friend of mine. Her first name and her maiden name. The picture was of a girl, that looked very familiar to me.”
Randall set his coffee down. “So is that who you called that night? The friend of yours?”
Dr. Crawford frowned and looked away. “Yes that was my mistake. I broke the confidentiality of the patient by doing that. All of us on duty didn’t think Mrs. Tyler would make it through the night, and I had been told that she said she didn’t have anyone. It’s the first time she’s ever been in this hospital so no one knows anything about her.”
For the next hour, their voices low, the two men discussed Emmie’s concerns about where Mrs. Tyler would go when she was discharged and what her life story really was. Another staff passing the table caught the words ‘Beaufort Estate’ but it didn’t mean anything to her. Someone else heard ‘writing letters’ not knowing that a penpal relationship had been established between Emmie Beaufort and Carrie Tyler.
~~~~~
Both pagers went off at the same time. “Well, I guess our time is up! Thanks Jeremy, you’ve given me more background. I’ll find out about those issues you brought up and get back to you. Maybe later today if I’m lucky. And get yourself a bike!”
“I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations
and you’re not in this world to live up to mine.”
~ Bruce Lee
