MAS Story Writers Blog

Santa Clara Kaiser Permanente Medical Center

Posted in Uncategorized by joshchua on November 6, 2009

I just want to go home. I hate working the graveyard shift. Every time I do I tell myself never again, but here I am again, Jeremy with a J (as if there’s any other way to spell Jeremy), making my rounds here at Santa Clara’s finest medical center at 12 midnight. Let’s just get it over with–children’s ICU, ER, cafeteria, morgue, then the nursery. These nightly rounds might be a routine, but they’re never predictable. Tonight won’t disappoint.

I just want to go back to school and see my friends Jessica and Lindsey. We’ve been best friends since the second grade but I haven’t seen them in soooo long. I used to bug Mommy every day if I could go back to Mrs. Towle’s class yet, but she stopped saying “soon” so I stopped asking when. Now she just hugs me really, really tight when I talk about going back to school. I’m not sure why but I like Mommy’s hugs so I don’t ask. I can’t sleep because I miss my friends from school, but I have friends here too. My favorite is Jeremy because he gives me candy from the vending machine downstairs whenever he walks by my room at night and Mommy’s asleep. I wish he could stay just once so we could play with my dolls. I like brushing their long hair and braiding it, just like what Mommy does to my wig.

I just want everyone to leave me alone. This is the third time I’ve ended up in this stupid ER over stupid shit. Just because I hurt myself doesn’t mean I want to kill myself. I can’t sleep when there’s people watching over me. It’s cold as hell in this place and all I want is to be left alone. I wish everyone would just understand that. Great. Now they called that dumb security guy to watch over me. I hate him. They all think I wanna kill myself, but they’ve got it all wrong. I wish they were all dead.

I just want a real meal with people to talk to. When you’re a 53-year old woman who never married and never had kids, home-cooked meals and dinner parties aren’t your forte. I’m a nurse. My job is to look after people’s health and well-being yet my nightly dinner that I eat by myself comes out of a vending machine. Oh, there’s that night watchman again, also eating alone near the soda machine. I wonder what his name is. There’s something about being at work at 4:00AM that makes people reserved and unsociable. Working the graveyard shift is depressing enough already, can’t we all at least have a meal together? Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and my patients. I just hate my coworkers.

I just want justice for my death. Look at my once-beautiful face, now a bloody mess. At least I’m covered up in that body bag. Being dead means you can’t feel the temperature, but I wonder if it’s cold in the morgue. The coroner looks way too comfortable. I wonder what he’s talking to the security guy about. Yep, that’s my name on the tag on my toe–Christina Lloyd. “Cause of death: blunt-force trauma to the head.” I never did get a good look at the guy who left me for dead out two miles in a field off Highway 101, but thank God that someone found my body. I hope they find the fucker that did this to me. My family deserves to know.

I just want to be a great dad. They always say men never know what it’s like to be a dad until they actually see their kid, and now I know exactly why they say that. I’m so excited I just hugged the roaming security guard who probably thought I was insane for running and jumping down the halls at 6:30 in the morning. I don’t care. I must be the luckiest guy in the world to have such a beautiful wife, and now, a perfectly healthy boy. He’s my son and I’m going to be the best dad ever. Welcome to the world, Jeremy.


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