M.u.r.s.e. #1

  Chapter 2

  Okay, now that you are finished cackling, back to when everything started. So, I was in the dumps. I was dragging my feet to the floor supervisor’s office, sure that I was finished at Henry Ford. I stopped outside the closed door, not wanting to knock and usher in the era of my unemployment. Staring at the door, I read the name of my supervisor, Alan Victor RN BSN and several other initials and accolades. The old guy had always been so nice to me, always so understanding and patient. He really seemed to take an interest in me and my future, always saying he knew I would do great things and that he saw something in me even if I didn’t see it myself. Well, no matter how nice he was or how highly he thought of me, the old guy was going to be disappointed this morning. At that moment, I really wished it was before 5am so that I would be on time and not about to get axed for being late. Sighing deeply, I opened the door.

  Right away, my head exploded with pain. It felt like the world’s biggest migraine. My hands shot up to my temples, my fingers massaging them to try and ease the throbbing. I staggered forward, trying to find something to hold myself up. Unable to focus on walking, my legs gave out and I collapsed to my knees, screaming in agony. I remember wondering what the hell was going on. Just when I thought my eyeballs were going to explode from the pressure in my head, the pain suddenly stopped.

  Looking down, I realized I was still on my knees. As I started to get up, my supervisor’s voice startled me.

  “Good morning, Colby. What can I do for you? And, please, get up off your knees. Are you alright?”

  I looked up and saw Alan Victor sitting stoically in his office chair behind his desk. Hands clasped in front of him, I stared at him in awe…as I always did. He was the epitome of class, everything I wanted to be someday. Crisp and finely tailored dress shirt, complete with a neat and tidy expensive tie. Bleach-white lab coat over top. Stylish salt and pepper hair, clean shaven baby face despite being in his 70s at least. But the eyes were always what got me. Ice blue, but warm and kind. Those eyes looked at me with concern as I quickly got to my feet.

  “Yes, um…good morning Mr. Victor, sir. Hi. I’m fine, just…I just had a migraine or something. I don’t know…it’s just been one of those mornings.”

  He smiled, relaxing a bit now that he could see I was okay.

  “Alan, my boy, call me Alan. We’ve talked about this,” he said.

  I smiled sheepishly.

  “Of course, Mr. Victor. I mean, Alan,” I replied.

  “That’s better. Now, what can I do for you this morning?” He asked again.

  I was confused. He had to know how late I was.

  “Well, sir, I thought you would want to see me. You know, since-” I turned to point at the clock on his office wall as I spoke, prepared to point out how late I was, but stopped when I saw the time. 4:45 A.M.…what? That clock had to be wrong. It was well after 10 by now. Turning back, I looked at Alan skeptically before continuing, “Um, sir…is your clock a bit off?”

  Shaking his head, Alan got to his feet, coming around the desk and putting his hand on my shoulder.

  “No, son, it isn’t. It is 4:45 in the morning, you are 15 minutes early for your shift and I am very proud of you. You are obviously working hard on your tardies and taking it serious. Now, what is it you needed? I think we both have a lot of work to get to this morning,” he said.

  I was at a loss for words. 15 minutes early? What the hell was going on? I tried to find words, but only stuttering came out. Alan patted my back, opening the door and guiding me through it.

  “Deep breath, Colby, I know it’s early. Go get to work and we will have lunch today in the cafeteria, say 11 or so?” He asked.

  I just nodded, still not understanding what the heck was going on. I soon found myself standing out in the hallway again. I remotely heard Alan say have a good day and that he’d see me at lunch before he shut his door. Looking at the nearest window, my guts dropped when I saw how dark it was. Digging my hand into my pocket, I pulled out my cell phone, checking the time. 4:47 A.M. What the fudge? Then, for the second time that morning, I vomited.