lost and found
{cast away}…
After a meteor shower of pages to the 4 beepers adorning my waist band, a series of perplexing admissions, and random patients causing ridiculously unnecessary stress, I began my lonely journey back to one of the hospital work rooms where most of my scant free-time in the past two weeks had been spent.
Once there, I was looking forward to spending some time with “Wilson”, a computer with whom I had cultivated a close relationship while navigating the seduction of Black Betty.
On this night though, I punched in the key code to the workroom door to find someone sitting at the computer beside Wilson.
I glanced at my iPhone and noted the time to be “2:07AM”.
In the previous two weeks, other than the aforementioned “life vest” I had with me on a few nights, there had been no other signs of life in this work room.
Wilson and I had discussed each phone call I received, him showing me the necessary data to make my decisions and cautiously warning me when a order I was about to enter was contra-indicated.
On this dark night, Wilson was not alone.
Wilson did not seem alarmed by this strangers presence, but I approached cautiously from the far side of the dimly lit room.
Before positioning myself at Wilson’s helm, I jovially offered a polite “Hi there” to the scrub-wearing woman who appeared to be typing in a patient’s electronic chart.
She did not respond.
Her presence was mildly unnerving, though slightly comforting, but I dared not repeat myself, much less attempt to make eye contact with the stranger.
But before my curiosity could win out and tempt me to offer the stranger another greeting , pager #3 let out another bleeping roar.
I quickly punched the number into the phone beside Wilson while I waited for him to wake up from his electronic slumber.
The nurse who queried me over the phone was audibly confused; despite Wilson and I’s best efforts, we could not find her answer.
In an attempt to assuage her fears, I promised to come directly to the floor and work out the issue in person. Wilson would stay behind and keep an eye on the stranger.
I glanced again at the stranger, furiously typing away at the computer beside Wilson, but I did not repeat my greeting, or wish her a fond farewell.
I returned 20 minutes later having solved the mystery posed by a new nurse, but Wilson was alone. There was no sign of the stranger.
My body still ached. My mind was still heavy.
In that moment, I wondered if there ever had been a stranger sitting beside Wilson, furiously entering some record in a patient’s chart.
I sat down again, facing Wilson, wondering if I should ask him where the stranger had gone. Or if there ever had been a stranger.
Perhaps, I had imagined the entire encounter.
Not wanting to let on about my fatigue, I decided against asking Wilson. He had helped me enough these past two weeks.
And I did not feel like burdening him with the knowledge that I may have lost my mind.
As the clock struck 9AM, I slowly dialed my landlord’s number into my phone.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
And then voicemail.
Sitting in the call room, I provided another detailed message as to my predicament, as if I was meticulously spelling “HELP” in the sand of a long-forgotten beach.
In the following moments, a wide range of emotions raged through my mind: fear, anger, sorrow, disbelief, heartbreak.
I laid down on the crisply pressed sheets of the hardened mattress, feeling lost beyond my worst nightmare.
But as my head jostled up against the pillow, the aches in my body lifted. The heaviness in my mind evaporated.
My Ego would not go down without a fight; it bullied my body from the call room and plotted a course for my landlord’s office.
Once there, I was met with disbelief.
Neither the office manager or the owner recognized the bearded man informing them of his sequestration in a small call room in the hospital down the street.
They were equally perplexed when I laid out my sojourn from the hospital to their office to relay in person the message I had left numerous times on voicemail.
I dared not mention to them how Wilson and I had survived the past two weeks; I didn’t think they would understand.
They apologized profusely for believing my lost keys had been found and returned to me by the handyman.
I calmly, but firmly, informed my landlord that he would proceed to walk me back to my apartment building; we found the keys locked in my mailbox.
My bearded face wondered aloud to my landlord if the handyman had believed me to possess teleportation properties allowing me to move my electrons and protons from outside the building into the entryway where the mailbox was located.
And if he believed me to possess the skills of Houdini to remove the keys from the mailbox without a key.
My Ego kept my Id from going bezerker on my landlord as he handed my keys to me.
I informed him I was in fact only a physician, not a teleporting magician.
The subsequent night was a maelstrom of terror.
If I had spontaneously combusted it would have been a fitting end to my Residency.
When the night came to an end, I was still cast away. My “life vest” had appeared and like clock work was torn from my being at midnight.
The night continued to be so punishing that I called my Chief Residents and another seasoned colleague summarily washed upon the shore of my deserted island.
He found me, lost amongst the bounding waves of pages and admission, barely keeping my head above water.
His effort to save me was seemingly futile as Black Betty enveloped us both, like a storm beating down on a small dinghy in the Aegean Sea.
But we both survived the raging storm; hoping to find a current that would take us away from this world.
I was rescued 24 hours later.
My final scheduled foray into Night Float had been completed as the sun rose that Friday morning.
I unclasped 3 pagers from my waist, handing them to the physicians who would dare navigate these rough waters.
Begrudgingly, I left behind Wilson, as my rescuers assured me of a job well done surviving this experience.
For him, I hoped the best.
Perhaps he would guide some other Cast Away from the path laid out by Black Betty as they washed upon the shore.
Elbrecht's Corpuscle 