Actions Speak Louder

by

Lida Bushloper

Everybody knew he was there. Don’t talk to me about HIPAA. If there was a famous person in the hospital, everybody knew in minutes. Housekeepers, IT techs, every staff member found some excuse to pass by the surgical ICU to see him. When I managed to get to the 7th floor, he was still in his post-surgery coma. The attached monitor recorded the beating of his newly repaired heart. Of course, there was no reason for me to be there. He wouldn’t be given regular food for a couple of days. But in my dietary assistant’s uniform, nobody paid me any attention. I was counting on that. I was still nervous and I jerked in fear when I heard a voice behind me.

“Come to see our star patient, Amy?” I whirled around to see my supervisor, Derek. I should have known he’d follow me. We had just been talking about the patient a few minutes before, as we prepped the trays for breakfast delivery. Gossiping or sharing patient information was against the rules, but hey, let’s get real. It happens.

I turned back to look at the man on the bed, hooked up to the best medical technology money could buy. All on the taxpayers’ dime. The prison hospital wasn’t equipped to handle the complicated heart surgery the convicted murderer needed. So, he’d been transferred here, to the premier cardiac surgery medical center west of the Rockies. Derek was whispering behind me.

“Are you hoping he’ll die?”

“After what he’s done? I’d rather he be cut to pieces. Like he did with all those poor people he killed. You know some of them were kids. He went after entire families.”

“Yeah. And they never did figure out how many he ended up butchering.”

“At least 20. But even one’s too many.”

“They say he ate their hearts. Maybe he knew somehow his own was wonky and he was trying to fix it.” I shook my head at Derek.

“You’re giving him too much credit. I think he just had a fetish. Did you see where he cut a heart shape into his own forehead after he was caught? Everybody could see the scar in the courtroom during his trial.”

“Well, at least he’ll die in prison.” But I wondered. Would he? Anything could happen. He could get a reversal of the verdict on a technicality. He could escape somehow and vanish into the wilderness. He might even cut out the heart of another inmate to munch on. How could anyone rest until he was well and truly dead? I’m sure there were plenty of other people who felt the same way I did. I was also sure none of them would take any action. They were all here to preserve life, not end it, no matter who the patient might be.

Derek saw the doubt in my face. He knew me better than anyone. He had loved me since high school. But that was years ago. Now, he would never cheat on his wife. He loved her too, in a different way than he still loved me. But it wasn’t his love for her that kept him faithful. What he loved even more was his identity as a family man. Back then, I was too addicted to my wild ways to create that with him. So, he did the only smart thing and found someone who wanted the same thing he did. He was happy. Being part of a family unit made him feel whole and valued and brought meaning to his life. He would never risk that for me. He had other ways of showing his love, like when he got me hired for this job when doors were slammed in my face all over town. But he would never, ever touch me again. I was okay with that. I could still bask in his discreet admiration.

Derek motioned for me to follow him back down to the hospital dietary department. We needed to start the lunch line. I took my place at the end of the conveyer belt. As each tray glided past, I meticulously checked its contents against the attached list. No tray went on the delivery cart unless I was sure it was perfect.

You have to be careful in a hospital kitchen with condiments, seasonings and ingredients.  There were cautions that prevented negative drug/food interactions. Some patients might have allergies: peanut products, shellfish, tomatoes. A mistake could kill someone.  

I had the early shift that day, so I was off right after lunch. I could have left the complex. But my co-worker Marge had a sick child and she was anxious to get home to relieve the sitter. I volunteered to trade a couple of hours. I would stay and cover her menu rounds. It would give me the excuse I needed. I picked up the handheld computer with the menu app and started at the top of the building, stopping in each patient’s room to get their breakfast orders for the next day, then made my way again to the 7^th floor. The monster in the bed still seemed unconscious. I studied the equipment, the monitors, the IV drip. Was that for pain or nutrition? I had no idea. I didn’t know how any of this stuff worked. I’d heard about injecting poisons into the lines that were connected to the veins, like insulin or anti-freeze. But I wouldn’t know how to begin. I logged into the computer in the room and brought up his chart, then clicked through the pages till I got to the dietary instructions. I saw what I’d hoped to see. This was going to be easy. I took one last look at the guy in the bed. Even with his prison pallor I could see he was gorgeous, with his thick golden hair, strong jaw and wide forehead. Under his closed eyelids, you couldn’t see the cold, predatory stare. I wondered. Did his being so beautiful make what he had done even worse? I thought so. How could such horror be buried under such perfection? Had his stunning outside appearance helped him deflect suspicion for so long? Probably. It was one more advantage he’d used so skillfully to gain the trust of his victims. I finished my rounds and left the building. I knew I didn’t have much time. As soon as he was healed enough to travel, he’d be transported back to the prison hospital to recuperate.

I wasn’t gone long. Just enough to get what I needed. There was a skeleton staff in dietary at night. I left my purse in my car. No need to make a noise, rattling open my locker door. I grabbed another computer from the shelf, just for an added touch of reality, then slipped out to the freight elevator.

The surgical ICU ward was quiet. My rubber soled work shoes made barely a whisper. I didn’t have to pass the nurse’s station, as his room was just this side of it. There was no guard at this stage. As soon as he became wakeful, one would be stationed outside his door, day and night. This was my one and only chance.

I stepped into his dimly lit room. No need to turn the lights up. The vial in my pocket was tightly stoppered. I didn’t want any accidents. I hesitated before twisting the stopper off the tube. I’d heard that even the scent of peanut oil was enough to affect super sensitive people. His mouth was slightly open. I imagined what would happen a few minutes after the first drop of oil touched his skin. The swelling, the redness, the asphyxia. I touched the stopper, then jerked my arm back. I couldn’t do it. I was no killer. If I killed him, I would be no better than he was. I had done a lot of bad things in my life. Nothing this corrupt. I was finally on the path to turning my life around, with Derek’s help. I wasn’t ready to throw all that away. I returned the vial to my pocket, then calmly made my way back out of the room and down the hall. It would have been suspicious if I had looked up, but it seemed to me, peeking out of the corner of my eye, that not a single nurse noticed me at all. When I reached the ground floor, it, too, was deserted. Maybe I would regret not taking action when I had the chance. But the more I thought about it, the more relief I felt. It wasn’t just fighting down an evil impulse, even one that seemed so justified. I wasn’t ready to face the consequences of getting caught. Praise and gratitude from some folks, maybe. But prison for sure for me.

I made my way home. I poured the small amount of peanut oil back into the bottle I kept in my pantry. I slept soundly through the night.

The next day at work, the kitchen was abuzz. He had coded. They hadn’t been able to save him. His perfect new heart, with its steady beat, had not failed. Then what? Rumors flew. Maybe a stroke, brought on by the stress of the procedure. Maybe a drug overdose, too much blood pressure medication, causing his blood pressure to plummet. Maybe an undetected nick in an artery, causing him to bleed out internally. We would probably never know. We would also never know other details, like if someone, with hot rage like mine, but with less self-control, had ever so slightly delayed calling the code, or responding to the code, or acting on the code. Even a few seconds could have made the difference. Of course there would be an enquiry. Video tapes would be reviewed. Interviews conducted. I felt another wave of relief that I would escape all that.

I finished the breakfast service and was pushing the empty cart out of the service elevator back into the kitchen area. Derek rushed over to help me get the heavy wheels out of the tracks where they were stuck. I looked up gratefully and made eye contact. I could tell Derek had something he needed to say. No one was near us. He leaned closer.

“If I needed you to, would you swear you and I were together last night?” I trusted him completely. I didn’t care about why he was asking. Anyway, I was pretty sure I knew.

“Of course. Just fill me in. Like the time?” He did.

“Got it,” I said. “We can say we were at my place, okay?” He nodded. It was a big lie for him. A big risk to his cherished family life, if he ever needed to tell it. A risk he took for me. In return, I refused to allow myself to think less of him for what he had done. Or what I thought he had done. I could never be sure. I was okay with that.