I frown. “You make it seem like you became a nurse because you didn’t feel good enough to be a doctor. And after seeing you in action, I don’t think that's the case at all.” I hate that his father makes him doubt himself.
Jake hesitates, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “I guess sometimes my dad gets in my head, but you’re right. Being a nurse isn’t just a runner-up prize for me—I really do love being at the bedside doing the physical work of taking care of patients, in a way I knew I wouldn’t be able to do as a doctor.”
Jake’s warm manner and relaxed way of conversing must put patients at ease—it certainly does for me. I feel more comfortable around him than I ever have with Weston—and I immediately avoid unpacking that thought. “For what it’s worth, I think changing over to nursing suits you in the best way possible.”
“Thanks.” His smile is genuine and open.
All of a sudden, I remember what I was supposed to tell Jake. “Speaking of your amazing nursing skills, I’m supposed to pass along a thank you from Tanya, our shared patient.”
Jake’s eyebrows rocket skywards. “Why?”
“Because you were your typical amazing self,” I say.
Jake is endearingly oblivious to how wonderful he is, and that makes me even more motivated to boost his confidence. I’m gratefulhe lets me see behind his self-assured mask. I have a feeling he doesn’t usually let it slip.
“You made sure that she was okay when Weston did his Ortho consult. I never thought about how his presence would affect her, but you did, so thank you. I’m so glad she had someone to look out for her.”
Jake coughs while shifting in his seat. “Anyone would have done the same.”
“In a busy ER? With a million other people to take care of? No way.”
Jake’s eyes cut to the side as he changes the subject. I can tell that he doesn’t know what to do with compliments. “When I saw Tanya, she seemed pretty closed off. Did she tell you she was abused?”
“No,” I say. “The scary thing is—I’m not sure I would’ve known she was abused had I not gone through a similar experience myself. Apparently, there isn’t a standard way to screen for physical abuse in the ER.”
“Really? That seems…counterintuitive. Why isn’t there?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, chewing on my lower lip. “Dr. Simons, my attending, told me that the current method of screening for abuse is a paper questionnaire that the triage nurses hand out in the waiting room.”
Jake’s eyes widen. “A paper questionnaire?”
I glance at him. “You didn’t know either?”
He shakes his head, comprehending the source of my confusion. “Triage nurses focus on the initial assessment of patients as theycome in the ER and prioritize which ones should be seen first, which is a different role than mine inside the ER, which is mainly to care for the patients once they’re in a room. I had no idea this was part of their evaluation. Although it makes sense.”
“Oh, I see.” I pause for a moment, thinking. “And the ER is where most of these people will come to seek medical care, so it’s the right place to do the screening. But we’re not doing a very good job. I mean, how many people actually answer those questions honestly? There must be a better way to identify high-risk individuals.”
As I speak, a spark of excitement that I haven’t felt in a while ignites in my chest. I wonder what the medical literature says about abuse screening. There has to be something, right?
“Dr. Simons is the head of the clinical research division,” I muse out loud. “Maybe I should email her and see if there are any ongoing projects on abuse screening.”
“You should totally do that,” Jake says. “I bet you could easily be added onto any pre-existing project. Several studies are currently enrolling patients in the ER, but I only started a few months ago, so I’m not sure exactly what they are.”
Anticipation edged with uncertainty thrums in my chest. Maybe I should hold off—am I really capable of taking this on? Weston wouldn’t think so. But maybe he’s not the best judge of me.
Out loud, I say, “It’s been a while since I’ve embarked on anything of my own.”
“Well, you are more than making up for it now. First a fake boyfriend and now a clinical research project. The world is your oyster.” Jake’s side grin reveals an endearing dimple.
At the sight of it, a giggle escapes me—have I been doing that more lately? Could Jake be bringing this out of me? Did I ever feel this bubbly sort of effervescence with Weston?
“I’m certainly embracing new and unusual ventures. If you told me a year ago that I’d be fake dating a guy to get rid of an ex, I’d think you were nuts.”
“I’d be happy to be your guinea pig any day,” Jake says.
“And you’re also getting something out of it too,” I remind him.
Jake immediately nods. “Yeah, that's true.” But there’s something off about his tone.
