Elle

Chapter 12: Exile

I went home with James. His apartment is right across the street from the restaurant so it’s convenient.

I got in the shower and washed all the blood away. Somehow it had gotten in my hair. I got out of the shower and James had given me a t-shirt to wear. Everything else was destroyed anyway.

I came out of the bathroom and James had really stepped things up. He had cooked a meal and poured out a glass of wine. James is older than me, but sexy as hell and clearly knows his way around the kitchen. I cut into the chicken piccata he’d whipped up in the time I was in the shower. It was delicious.

“So that’s the guy you’ve been dating. The one who just stood around while you saved his ex’s life.”

“Yea, I didn’t see that coming. He always seems so sure of himself in the hospital. Like when the code is called, he shows up and takes over, acting like an air traffic controller. I never would have imagine he’d freeze like that”

“You know we will have to press charges against his ex. At minimum, property destruction. I hope it doesn’t cause you any problems.”

“Why should it? *I* didn’t destroy property. Thanks for dinner; it was amazing. I am exhausted”.

“Go sleep in my bed. I’m going to clean up and wind down. Don’t worry, I’ll behave. Besides, when we have sex, you’re going to want to remember it. And I’m not sure you’re going to remember a lot about tonight”

****** *********** ************ *********** ************ **********

One month later

My dad is in the hospital. Again. Even more awkward it’s the hospital where Jeremy works and I do my clinicals. It’s awkward telling my instructors that under no circumstances do I want any of my classmates working with him.

It’s even more awkward seeing Jeremy.

A relationship kinda dies when the police get involved. As in there was a restraining order. And a court case. And involuntary commitment to a psychiatric hospital. Not many romances can survive that.

Oh and the fact I saw him with someone else. When he cancelled a date with me.

I feel like I’ve been exiled. Banished to the far reaches of humanity where few dare to tread.

***** ****** ******* ******** ********* ******** ************

Two week after that

“Are you OK?” Chris asks me.

“I am not even remotely OK. In span of a month, my now ex’s ex girlfriend tried to kill me,  the guy I’ve been dating for a year  just decided go date someone else without telling me.. My dad is dying and I can’t do anything about it. I’m fucking my boss at the restaurant just to have someone to hold me when I fall apart. I can’t deal with everything alone, yet, I keep pushing people away. It’s like I’m in a permanent state of exile.”

“I’m still here.”

“I mean not really. I see you two days every other week… If that. I don’t have your number. You don’t have mine. If I didn’t show up, you’d never know what happened. Unless you listened to the rumor mill-which you say you don’t, but you still seemed to know an awful lot about Jeremy. And how that went up in flames… You knew how my dad was doing before I even said anything. I literally had someone try to kill me and you never…”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I didn’t know how. Or what to say. I still don’t.”

The dam finally bursts

“yea, well, no one else does either. My dad is dying. Slowly. School is dragging on. I spend every waking moment in a hospital either working in one, going to school in one, or visiting in one. I’m literally sleeping on the floor in waiting rooms. I’m exhausted all the time. I barely have time to eat. I hear people whispering about me here, Main, and the restaurant. People who don’t even know me are talking about me. IN FRONT OF ME.

‘Even at the restaurant, I’ll have people say ‘Were you working here when that incident occurred?’ The incident! Someone who I didn’t even know existed literally tried to murder me, and it’s gossip. For the whole town. I even tried to save the one that tried to kill me. You can’t imagine what I’ve heard. What people have said when they didn’t know they were talking to me.

‘It’s literal hell on Earth, and every day I don’t know how I get through the day, and I do only to do it all again the next day. I’m up for ICU rounds at 5a, then I either go to class or change clothes and learn in the same ICU that my dad is a patient in. Then I study a little and go to work either here or at the restaurant. If I’m at the restaurant, then I sleep at James’s place. Only to get up and do it all over again. With the locations reversed. And no one asks how I am. Or offers to help. Or anything. But something is always wrong. And I don’t know how much more I can handle before I become the knife wielding protagonist in someone else’s story.”

And with that I walked away.

Chris had nothing to say anyway.

 

Chapter 11: Everything has changed

I’m in my last 6 month of school. Sometimes it’s stressful. We are almost always in one of the ICUs or sometimes the ER so our patients are never really ‘well’. I still pick up shifts at the satellite hospital where Chris works. That pace is a lot slower, but I’m also a lot more independent there.

I’ve never really mentioned my other job, but I’ve been working at the restaurant since before I started school. I’m a hostess/bartender and train new employees. It’s a fun job and I get heavily discounted food and bartending is fun. It definitely puts into things into perspective because at the end of a stressful night at the restaurant everyone is always still alive.

A couple shifts ago, Jeremy’s ex showed up to the restaurant. She was yelling! YELLING at me, saying that she was going to commit suicide because she has nothing to live for now that I’ve taken Jeremy away from her. Y’all, I didn’t know this woman existed and she shows up at my job calling me every sort of insult one could come up with. It got so bad the General Manager came out and told the woman that if she didn’t calm down, he would call the police on her.

Meanwhile, I texted Jeremy to tell him his crazy ex was at the restaurant and that I wasn’t going to put up with this treatment. James had me go to the back of the house to help diffuse the tension, but to no avail. Susan kept yelling. And threatening me.

About 5 minutes later, Jeremy shows up, and tries to calm Susan down. She continued to hurl threats at me, and starts to pick up food and plates off of diners’ table and throw them at the glass window. People started yelling. I’m sure someone called the cops.

Susan picked up a steak knife off of one of the tables and slashed her own throat. People screamed. I ran out from behind the window, grabbing cloth napkins on my way to her. I get to her and hold pressure at her neck. She’s fighting me the whole time. Jeremy is standing around being completely useless. The cops arrive and call for an ambulance. They help subdue Susan. Meanwhile, I’m still holding pressure. The ambulance arrives, takes over and wheels Susan out. I look down and realize I’m covered in blood. It’s 8p on a Saturday night. The restaurant should be packed; meanwhile, we are having to close because it’s an active crime scene.

The police question me. And Jeremy. And some of the dinner guests. By 10p, I am exhausted. And covered in blood. Jeremy is a mess; mentally and physically. The the police finally let us go they turn to me and say, “do you have anywhere you can stay tonight. I don’t think you should be alone. “

James tells them that I am staying with him and can be reached at his number. Jeremy says nothing,

I walk out with James’ jacket over my shoulders wondering what the fuck just happened and feeling quite certain that everything with Jeremy has exploded like a powder keg on the 4th of July.

 

Chapter 3: Call it what you want

I don’t like rules and I don’t always follow them but call it what you want to and  sometimes RULES are just RULES, and these are the rules. 

The Rules

1. The Night Shift is a work of fiction. Realistic fiction. Fiction so real you may think it’s real. But fiction nonetheless. Even the main character, RT ElizaMarie is fiction. All the other people–also fiction, but just in case they aren’t–names have been changed to protect the innocent. Or the guilty.

2. You don’t know me. Even if you do, pretend you don’t. Anonymity is never guaranteed on the interwebs, but I’ll do my best to convince you that you don’t me.

3. You don’t know the person I am talking about. Because it’s almost a 100% chance that the person I am talking about is an amalgam of more than one person. And even if it’s not, you still don’t know that person. See rule #2

4. Nothing or no one is as it appears. [See rules 1, 2, 3, 5 & 6 for explanations]

5. HIPAA is for real. [I don’t want to lose my license before I get it or get kicked out of school before I finish]

6 I make things up…like names, details, and locations. [once again, see rule 4 for explanation]

7. The institution is the place most of the stories occur. The actual institution changes as new opportunities present themselves.

8. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental, and speaks to universal issues in healthcare. And love. And life.

9. Once again, The Night Shift is a work of fiction. Nothing mentioned should be construed as medical advice. If you need medical advice, you should probably seek advice from an actual medical professional, or call 9-1-1 in a true emergency.

10. The Night Shift is for entertainment purposes only.But it’s not a bedtime story you’d want to read to children. Or impressionable young adults.

11. Since some of these chapters take place during education events, absolutely all policies of related educational institutions were followed. Or they would be. If any of this were real.

12. Sometimes life imitates art and sometimes art imitates life. Sometimes we never know which is which.

13. I couldn’t think of any other rules or disclaimers,, but I like round numbers. Numbers divisible by 3, 5, and 10 are also acceptable. The only prime number that is acceptable is 13. It’s been my jersey number since I started T-ball at age 5.  Before Taylor Swift was even born so I absolutely did not conscript that from her. Unlike every single chapter name in this story. 

Chapter 1: Dear Reader

Dear Reader:

Hi. My name is Eliza Marie Montgomery, and this is my story. It’s been said that one’s co-workers determine job satisfaction. Especially in healthcare. To some degree, I believe that’s true. After all, these are the people I spend the most waking time around. And even not on a 12 hour shift, these are the people that can still make your day ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

Co-workers can become friends over time. After all, who else can you trauma bond with during a traumatic shift. Who else can literally save your life during a violent patient encounter? Co-workers can also become more than friends. After all, as a single person, where else are you going to find someone to date? While it seems good in theory, this is almost always a bad idea. It’s hard to maintain a collegial relationship with someone who has seen you naked. There’s always a little bit of truth to shows like Grey’s Anatomy. The Night Shift is my story and these are my people. Some I like better that others.

Cast of Characters

  • Gus–> a grizzled old veteran, the boss, just trying to make it to retirement
  • Mitzi–> ditzy, blonde, know-it-all, tries to make my life hell. I try to avoid her
  • Lloyd–>30+ years on the job; knows how to do everything
  • Ike–>another old timer; night shift, sleeps most of the shift
  • Sandy–>does yoga when she thinks no one is around; also night shift
  • Dr. Chris–>physician, hospitalist, the nicest and most approachable of the hosptialists
  • Dr Greg–> ER physician, knows his stuff, no nonsense, hilarious
  • Nurse Liz–>my favorite ER nurse
  • Kate–>my classmate and friend, has the same job as me starting out but at the larger intuition

__________________ ______________________ _____________

Additional characters occurring later

  • Nurse DJ–>fun, knowledgable, RN, around my age
  • Justin–>I dated a hockey player; it was fun for a minute, but Canada, in winter–no thank you
  • Nurse Margaret–>the human embodiment of the energizer bunny, fund of knowledge only gained by being a RN for >50 years
  • Charlotte–> another BFF at the institution
  • Christy–>my partner in crime at the institution
  • Nurse Maria–>my nurse BFF at the. latest institution
  • Jeremy–>a mid-level manager type at the large institution. I dated him; it went badly
  • James–> my restaurant boss; I dated him too. You can imagine how that went
  • Jeff–>You’d think I’d learn that dating co-worker is the worst idea ever.
  • Taylor–> my co-resident. I guess you can probably figure out what happened there.

PC Besties for life reunited in DC

Peace Corps’ friends are a different breed of friends. They start out as government issued friends. Over time and sometimes due to proximity, they become lifelines. Meet-ups in the local regional hub when you just can’t handle village life anymore–PC bestie is there. WhatsApp calls for speaking in English when the 8-hour time difference to the US means friends and family back home are always doing something else when I have free time. Additionally, no one quite understands Peace Corps life like other PCVs.

I think it was the universe talking when I got medically separated and my PC bestie also got medically separated–not quite at the same time, but pretty close together. So imagine my delight when our schedules lined up just perfectly for me to spend a few days in DC with him before heading back to ‘Rwanda’.

We explored various cultural eats… Mexican street tacos, Vietnamese pho, Laotian samplers, authentic Chinese, and American Brunch. So many noms that aren’t available in my tiny South Carolina hamlet are available everywhere in DC.

I, of course, did some touristy things and explored the popular spots such s the Lincoln Memorial

Hit up some of the FREE museums such as Smithsonian, the Botanical Garden, and a little known one of the National Parks and Forrest Service where I got to meet my hero, Smokey Bear and his side kick Woodsy Owl. I even got Smokey’s business card.

Next steps

I took care of some close of service and medical separation paperwork at the DC Peace Corps’ headquarters. On one hand, I’m *slightly* disappointed that my Peace Corps’ service ended early. However, I felt my time on site was largely ineffective. As my village’s 5th PC volunteer in 10 years, there wasn’t a lot for me to do. Mbazi’s 1st volunteer showed up in 2008. Several building projects later, PCVs (meaning me) were kind of looked as a walking bank account. I wrote a grant for the health center. The Ministry of Health funded that so that’s cool. But when comparing myself to schools and water pipelines, a penile circumcision grant wasn’t really all that special.

But alas, my PC service is over. My besties completed his service too so it’s time to figure out what’s next. But before all that, I’ll head to continental Europe in the form of Paris and London with my mom. We’re shipping out on February 26 and headed back on March 12. It’s her first time and I’m excited to show her some of the things I’ve seen in my last 10+ years of travel.

Pace Corps To-Do List

Peace Corps To Do List

I have never been one to make lists, or more accurately, I have never been one to follow what’s on the list, but for an undertaking of this magnitude, I started preparing and list-making as soon as I submitted the application. Just last week I left my job. I transferred to another location for the next three months. I haven’t told the new people that I’ll be leaving, and probably won’t–at least not until February.

I started preparing myself for departure soon after receiving the acceptance letter.

Here is a look at the massive to-do list that I created and  have been checking  it off since March and in earnest since I received the acceptance letter in July, approximately in chronological order.

  • Change bank accounts. I moved my primary checking and savings to Charles Schwab. From everything I’ve read, they are the best deal around for travelers. I’ve banked with a credit union for years, and while I love them, the lock-down on my card overseas [even going to England is a hassle] and the massive fees I incur while traveling are enough to make me switch. I’ve kept my account active so that it’s still there, and also in case I run into trouble, I’ll have someone local to help out. Yes, I know the Peace Corps will set me up a bank account in my local area once I’m there, but it will be nice to have the safety net of my American bank account too.
  • Give myself a pay cut.   I set up direct deposit to my savings account so that $350 every week goes directly to savings. This savings will allow me to keep my house, take a PC vacation or two, and maybe even travel some post-service.
  • Get another job.  [to explore a new area of nursing and have some additional savings]
  • Determine a savings goal. I looked into accommodations and transportation costs for possible destinations and read about other traveler’s expenses for long-term travel to come up with a savings goal of $10,000.  I don’t know if I’ll meet it or not, but it’s a goal.
  • Track my expenses. I m not nerdy enough to set up a spreadsheet and keep track of every dime I spend, but I did create a spending log recording [most of] everything I spent. This allowed me to identify areas to cut back and I could see how close [or far!] I was from my savings goal. I could also see when I needed to lay off Amazon or cut out trips to Target.
  • Re-design my blog. I started blogging in 2005 mainly for myself. Over the last 12 years, blogging has still been mostly for me [and the occasional friend or family member who wanted an update to see if I was still alive]. Over the last year I’ve made a concentrated effort to do a little more on the technical side, learn a little bit more about photo post-processing, teach myself a little bit about making videos, get more comfortable exposing myself to a public audience, and maybe build a loyal, if not small readership before I leave.
  • Connect with other travelers.  I still hate Twitter, don’t really know how to use my blog’s Facebook page, and can’t for the life of me figure out Instagram’s algorithms, but through my blog and through reading other travel blogs, I have connected with dozens of other PC volunteers, returned PC volunteers, and bloggers who have traveled long-term or made blogging into a full-time career. Their advice and inspiration have been invaluable.
  • Renew my passport.  My passport was set to expire while in the Peace Corps, and while yes, I will get a Peace Corps’ diplomatic passport, I do want to travel some on my own either before, during, or after my service. I renewed it in April and opted for the one with the most pages available.
  • Find a home for my cats.  I hated the idea of giving my cats to random strangers on Craigslist or to a shelter, so a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders when a friend volunteered to foster the kids while I’m gone.
  • Figure out what to do with my stuff.  I don’t consider myself a minimalist by any means but I also didn’t want to pay $1700 for a storage unit.  So I bought a house. What? you say? I found an incredible deal, made the purchase in October 2017. I moved most of my old furniture into the new house and plan on doing some heavy remodeling when I return from the Peace Corps.  To date. I’ve painted all the walls, removed a ton of wallpaper, replace most light fixtures and ceiling fans, and tried my hand a tile-work.  The house now has appliances from this century, and I’ve gotten a lot of tree/scraggly bushes removed.  This is about all I’m doing until I come back.
  • Doctor and dentist appointments.  While I still have good insurance through work, I made a point to get an annual physical exam and a dental cleaning and check-up. Also see Pre-Service Medical Clearance.
  • Vaccinations.  I went to South America in 2010, I got the yellow fever vaccine and the Typhoid vaccine. Through work, I’m up to date on my tetanus-diphtheria-pertussis, flu, and hepatitis B. I added a Hepatitis A vaccine and cholera + what the Peace Corps recommends. Lucky for me, my insurance covered everything except the $110 consultation fee, saving me about $500.
  • Get extra passport photos.  Who knows what I might need them for [traveler visas perhaps], but I’m getting them while they are cheap.
  • Buy stuff.  I have tried to keep the purchases to a minimum because after all, I am going to a third world country where the daily income is around $2, but some must-haves that I have picked up so far include a new [used] laptop [with DVD drive so I can copy all my DVDs and CDs, a new-ish backpack [it’s been on a few excursions already], extra camera equipment [lenses mostly + a few memory cards and extra camera batteries], a Steri-pen, and new hiking shoes.
  • Explore ways to connect.   Skype account, Google Hangouts, FaceTime, all vaible options, but will they work well with rural African internet. .
  • Give notice at work.  I haven’t done this just yet, but when I do, it will be when this whole thing  starts to feel real!

And there is still more to come over the next few weeks:

  • Notify my banks and credit card companies.
  • Withdraw cash in the form of bills that are recent and in good condition [once again, you never know when crisp dollar bills might be useful].
  • Create a list of bank and credit card info.
  • Update my Couchsurfing profile [because you never know…]
  • Study and practice French some more.
  • Update my resume.
  • Assemble the documents I need to apply to graduate school so that when the time comes, I’ll have everything I need, and applying from the middle of Africa won’t be quite so challenging.

Not everything on the lists above will apply to everyone, but my hope is that this will be helpful for those of you who might be starting to think about taking some time off to travel or joining the Peace Corps.

Chapter 45: All too well

I’ve become a Swiftie. Or more accurately, I’ve been playing one Taylor Swift on repeat. Ad nauseam. Chris and I broke up some time ago–in spectacular fashion.And I’ve recently come across this song which perfectly encapsulates the entire saga of Eliza Marie and Chris.

‘You kept me like a secret and I kept you like an oath.’ That line of the song hits so hard, because I was 100% faithful to Chris and he wasn’t. Not just in the obvious way of not starting to date someone else while we were still together, but in the less obvious ways of keeping all his secrets. For better or worse, I’m like a vault. Secrets go in, but I don’t let them out.

The reason all this is coming back up is I recently had a conversation with an old RT classmate who I haven’t seen since graduation. I didn’t even bother to tell her that I’m now a physician–we were never really friends. At first it was surface level catching up–, where do/did you work, that kind of stuff. And it came out that we had worked at the same place at different times and therefore knew a lot of the same people.

“Oh so you probably know my ex then…” she mentioned casually.

‘Maybe. I really didn’t talk to a lot of people when I worked there. Just kind of went to work, did my job, and went home.

‘I bet you did though.His name is Chris. He was the medical director there. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say he’s my ex. We were more like fuckbuddies. I’d still be fucking him if I weren’t in the relationship I’m in now, because that man in bed–he’s something else.’ she chatted on…

It was at that moment I was grateful to be sitting down because I’m quite sure I would have fallen. As it was, I felt the blood drain from my face and then my face get hot. Images of the last time I saw him, standing there at the door in a t-shirt and boxers, green eyes fixed in an expression I’d never seen, hair ruffled, telling me ‘you need to leave. I have company’ flashed through my mind. I could barely manage to keep my composure but I managed to choke out “Oh that’s interesting, I always thought he was gay or bi’.

She prattled on about him definitely NOT being gay, but all I could think of was dancing in the kitchen with the oven light on with music playing lightly in the background or the weekend we spent in the mountains never leaving the converted carriage house except to forage for food. Blankets on the beach with only the stars for lights and salty kisses in the outdoor shower. Cozy conversations in front of the crackling fire. Tigs.

Inside I was breaking. Again.

And I remembered everything about our story all too well.

Chapter 44: Someone I used to know

I have known Chris practically my entire adult life. Or at least I thought I did. It took three years for us to have a first date and another 18-months for us to live in the same city. And between then and now we had some amazing times. He inspired me to go back to medical school. For a brief moment in time, I had a fantasy that together we could rule medicine. He with the adults, and me with the tiny humans. And for a brief time, our life together was amazing. But then drugs entered the picture, and nothing was the same since. I stayed with him through med school and his rehabilitation phase, but like most things, it wasn’t real

Through four years of medical school, things were idyllic. Nobody describes medical school as idyllic, but I did. Living with Chris during medical school was the best of both worlds. I had a long term partner. I had security, And I had kind of a built in professor. His role as adjunct prof at the school he attended was a blessing in disguise.

Even MS-3, which is hard on many levels, was perfect. On the nights I had overnight call, Chris packed me lunch. He made sure I had clean clothes and food to eat. He made studying easy because all I had to worry about was learning. Life was taken care of. Our cat, Tigs, was cared for; I didn’t have to worry about ‘did I feed Tigs’ or did I scoop the poop because Chris did that too.

I matched to my second choice. First choice in programs; second in location. Too far to stay with Chris but not as far as when we started dating.

Intern year was hard. New city. New hospital. Learning a lot. Missing Chris. I got a cat. Her name is Lily.

Chris and I started to grow apart. I always assumed after intern year things would get better. And they did, for a while. But Chris was dealing with his own demons. And he stated shutting me out. And when he started shutting me out, I felt myself pulling back too. Self-protection, I guess. A couple days between face-times turned into a week, then weeks, turned into a month. Then one day, it was like we never existed.

He became someone I used to know and I hardly even knew myself.