Fresh Deer

Three sets of dog tags sat locked in the glove compartment box. A mid size sedan parked in the place reserved for employees only. Green scrubs and male cloggy shoes clothed thirty-four-year-old Barrington Volt. He was six feet two inches tall and had the skin color of a date. He maneuvered with the coffee and the bagels with one hand. Then, he performed the acrobatic feat of closing the door with his feet.

In the DelaWhole Healthcare System (DHS) in Newark, Delaware, Volt commenced handing out the baked and brewed goods. Then he came upon the interns.

The twenty-two-year-old female looked thin with wiry hair. She had freckles which dotted her nose. Her skin color resembled butterscotch. Her name was Hallela Weatherly. She couldn’t have been more than five feet three inches tall. The twenty-one-year-old male, about five feet eight inches in height, looked the color of an almond. He had a shaved head and no other distinguishing marks. He was clean cut and stuck his chest out profusely. He was Patrice “Young Gunna” Galveston. They both sprang from New Sweden University in Wilmington, Delaware.

“Alright, this is the initial way of saying this is going to suck. You’re going to have to keep it moving. You’re going to have to slow down. Whatever you thought about trauma you need to field strip it from your mind. It means you need to unpack it and completely reorganize your way of thinking and put it all back again like it was shiny and brand new,” Volt explained. Lightness and also a tinge of severity which laced his words. He had three tours of Iraq and Afghanistan to his credit before retiring from the United States Navy as a corpsman two years ago. Those three dog tags were the blood stained reminders of the PFC, lance corporal, and sergeant he did not save back in the sandbox and the mountaintops. He remembered them every time he had to usher fresh deer into the unit.

“Good morning, Dr. Fish. These are my two new recruits.”

“Semper Fi, Doc,” Dr. Fish said. He was a Navy corpsman, too, but he had studied a bit more to become a critical care surgeon. He was thirty-eight and stood a bit shorter than Volt but flashed a killer smile and always seemed to do an extremely light dance when he walked. The tone of his skin matched black sand. He looked at the interns.

“You’re in for a surprise of a lifetime. No book, movie, or TV show will ever prepare you for this. The intervals are what will get you. Ask this man right here,” Dr. Fish wrapped an arm around Volt.

“This guy will be your Dante.” The doctor then walked onward to the cafe.

“Here, take these bagels and coffee and call out what type of coffee it is and whether the bagel has lox or not. If it doesn’t then it’s either mine or Nurse Heston’s.”

“Got it,” Hallela and Gavelston said in unison.

“Report back to this room when you’re done.”

The room looked like blue chewing gum right out of the wrapper. The tile floors seemed inviting somehow and Volt never forgot about that. He checked his crash cart. He ensured that every inch was sterilized and in excellent, functioning condition. By ridding himself of the dust and some oozing liquid he could not ascertain, he realized that the two interns hadn’t returned.

“I wanted a hazelnut caramel macchiato with extra foam and no whip,” Nurse Sadity Javelin barked at Hallela. She was forty-four-years old and had the complexion of beechwood.

“Off it, now, Miss Sadity,” Nurse Mandy Heston said. Nurse Heston blue black, and was fifty-three years old but could easily be mistaken for a thirty-year-old.

“You two are new. Don’t pay her any mind. You just distribute your coffee and bagels and we’ll be fine.” Hallela hesitated but gave the bagel without lox and the black cup of coffee to Nurse Heston.

“Thank you, baby,” Nurse Heston said. “Now is when the fun begins,” she mentioned.

Hallela and Gavelston found a way to make it back to the room where Volt stood.

“How’d your first assignment go?”

“We got yelled at,” Hallela pointed out.

“Get used to it. There’s going to be a lot of that going on. As for now, this is what we call a lull. Be wary of them and thankful to your…do you either of you believe?”

“I’m an atheist.”

“I am, too,” Galveston replied.

“That’s three atheists in the same room. Go figure. Anyway, I want you to disassemble and reassemble this crash cart, configure the laptop to the system, and then it should be around lunch time so I trust you can find the cafe after your encounter with Dr. Fish,” Volt instructed. He then got up and turned to the nurses’ station to converse with twenty-eight-year-old Cindy Severin. She had the skin the color of fresh, original chalk. Two blonde braids covered her head. Her face looked like it had been chipped at by a sculptor.

“You’ve got two. Nice.”

“Yeah, I was going to just have one but the Fish wants me to carry double duty,” Volt related to Cindy.

“You’re handling it like a champ,” Cindy responded. “Did they get the orders right?”

“Everyone but you-know-who,” Volt added.

“What is her problem?”

“I don’t know but I’ve got to get to my minions,” Volt replied.

Cindy laughed lightly, winked and then grinned at Volt. “Bye.”

The crash cart looked immaculate. The system was online and running.

“You’ve passed your first tests. Don’t be alarmed that we haven’t had anyone come through here with a gunshot wound or a construction site incident or something like that. It’s like when I was in the field. Most days were just boring. They seemed to dissolve into the night and flow right in to the morning and afternoon and the cycle would start over again. That was until another humvee got blown up and then there was a firefight. Things got real, real fast after that. So, take this all in, now. You’re going to want to say ‘this sucks’ just remember that you’ve already done the hard part with handing out coffee and bagels,” Volt smirked. The two interns chuckled lightly.

“What I propose is a plan. Get out your tablets,” he commanded.

“Firstly, ensure that all of the stock is rotated and labeled appropriately. You’re going to be doing that a lot. Next, bring all of the supplies into the room and keep everything sterile. You follow those two rules and you’ll succeed. Questions?”

“Why are we even being ordered around like this?”

“Patrice, don’t,” Hallela interjected.

“No, I’m not in a warzone. I went to school for four years. I graduated in the top ten percent in high school at age seventeen just to pass out breakfast?! I’m here to serve others who’ve been wounded and need care. I’m not a waiter or some damned delivery boy. No, I’m going––” he started and made a move like he was going to get up from his chair.

“What you’re going to do is sit down and take this lesson. So you’ve graduated from school. You might have interned when you were in school. Now, you’re out and the world is ready to bite into you rather than hand you something on a platinum platter.”

“I’m calling a––”

“Before you make that call, don’t just think of other people. Think of yourself only. You’re not going to get far with the idea that you’re helping others. You’ll only find yourself beating down resentment, frustration, and anger. When you live for yourself, you will be happy and your patients will sense that. Go if you must, but recall all those hours you studied to get here. Don’t think for a second that it was all in vain,” Volt intoned.

Galveston slowly lowered in his chair. Hallela looked at him. Volt’s gaunt figure remained straight as a line with no curves.

“I just want to do my job. I know this is another learning phase, but I also know that we’re here to put in the work to become even better at what we’re supposed to be doing,” Galveston replied. He darkened his words with a low, husky tone.

“If I may,” Hallela said, “I think that we should just reset and assess what it means to be part of the trauma unit. If it takes grabbing food and beverages for the established, I’m with it. I just want to be a nurse.”

The three of them looked at each other like each was an exhibit at a museum. They then found their way.

“I want you two to prosper. I want you two to know more than I about all of this. You will be given so much knowledge about medical science that what I learned will look like the Dead Sea Scrolls.”

A tiny laugh emitted from Galveston. It was a hard, quick chuckle but a laugh nonetheless. Hallela giggled.

“So you’re going to go out there and become greatness?” Volt asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“That’s great because it’s lunchtime and you’re both going to have to do a sub run.”

Galveston sighed and a grin appeared on his face. Hallela accepted her role and looked at Volt with steely eyes. The pair marched out of the room and took the orders of the men and women over them.

Volt wiped his shoes and held in his mind the three dogtags in his glove compartment.