Page 46 of Hold the Pickle
Fitz unzips her bag. “I went to the cafeteria for coffee. Jessica R heard it from Jessica G who got it from Sonya herself before she went off shift.”
“So glad to be the source of hospital gossip,” I say, closing my locker with less of a slam than Farraday did.
Fitz playfully sweeps out her foot in pink crocs to trip me as I go by. “It’s hard being the most eligible intern at South General.” She stuffs her bag in her locker.
“Hey!” Harrington says, clipping his badge to the pocket of his scrubs. “I’m single!”
Fitz forces a smile at him, then puts an arm around each of us as we head out to the unit. “Harrington, we need to get you a makeover.”
He pushes his glasses higher on his nose. “Really?”
“Really. We need to make you less Urkle and more Idris Elba.”
“You think it’s possible?”
Fitz laughs. “Anything is possible.”
When we enter the back hall of the ER, it’s chaos. Typical Saturday night.
Booker, our supervisor, starts fanning us out. “Harrington, take the broken arm in Bay 3. Fitz, we have a respiratory in Bay 5.” She smirks at me before she says, “Murphy, I hear you’re good with the binge drinkers. You have a puker in Bay 9. Go!”
We scatter, but not before I realize maybe I should have had the ambulance take Nadia to any hospital other than South General.
When I open the curtain to Bay 9, Dr. Clemons is in there with a nurse I don’t know. “Good, you take over. Order the standard panel for high blood alcohol. You do know what that is?”
“Yes, sir.”
The nurse glances up, holding a long, narrow vomit basin next to the man. “Your turn. I have six patients I’m behind on.”
I take the basin.
The man leans over and vomits violently. I shift the basin to catch most of it, but some hits the floor.
“And clean that up!” the nurse says as she closes the curtain.
It’s good to be an intern.
Things finally calm down in the wee hours. It’s been a night, even for LA. Four car accidents, and at least twenty people presenting with some stomach flu. Plus, my alcohol case. Six others came in, and every single one was given to me.
I sit with Harrington and Fitz in the break room, none of us really eating what is technically lunch, even though it’s four a.m.
“So much puke tonight,” Fitz says. “Do you think we’ll ever get used to the puke?”
“I’m ready to have more clout than an orderly,” I say.
Fitz rests her head on her hands. “With great power comes great responsibility.”
“I’ll be nice.”
“Unlike eighty percent of the attendings.” Fitz closes her eyes.
“We do seem to have a lot of egos on our floor.” Harrington takes off his glasses and wipes them on his scrubs.
“So tell us about your woman,” Fitz says with a yawn. “Other than she’s a party animal who hangs out at dive bars.”
I had a feeling this was coming.
“It’s a roommate thing. She needed a place. I needed a place. We’re sharing an apartment.”
