our patients seem to think they can consume just about
anything they like. That’s not so. You have to keep to a
hospital diet while you’re with us. If we hadn’t been so
caught up with other patients, we’d never have permitted this.”
“Those aren’t ours,” Renie said, feigning shock.
“Our husbands brought their own dinner. We’ll both
speak severely to them about doing it again.”
Frowning, Heather removed the boxes, then began
taking Judith’s pulse and temperature. “What happened with Jim Randall?” Judith inquired after the
paper thermometer had been removed.
“Oh,” Heather said, wrapping the blood pressure
cuff around Judith’s arm, “he went home. I guess he
was upset about his brother.”
“Mr. Bob’s recovering nicely?” Judith asked.
Heather didn’t answer right away. She was listening
to the stethoscope and looking at the gauge attached to
the cuff. “Yes,” she finally said as she made entries on
44
Mary Daheim
Judith’s chart, “he’s doing fine, though I don’t think
he’ll like being on a walker and then a cane for some
time. He strikes me as a very active person.” Heather
moved to Renie’s bed. “Here, Mrs. Jones, let’s see how
you’re getting along.”
“I could have eaten more fried wontons,” Renie said.
“I think they shorted us on the sweet-and-sour
prawns.”
Heather shook her head in a disapproving manner,
then became involved in taking Renie’s vital signs. Judith watched until a wispy figure appeared in the doorway. It was Mrs. Randall, looking morose.
“Nurse Chinn?” she called in a soft, tentative voice.
“I’m leaving now, but I’ll be on duty at nine tomorrow.”
Heather Chinn finished taking Renie’s pulse, then
turned to the newcomer. “That’s fine, Mrs. Randall.
You must be very pleased with your husband’s successful surgery.”
Margie Randall hung her head. “Dr. Van Boeck says
I should be, but you never know. All sorts of things can
happen—pneumonia, a blood clot, an aneurysm. I’ve
seen it before, here in this very hospital, and recently,
too. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”
“You need your rest,” Heather said, now working
with the blood pressure cuff on Renie. “You put in
such long days volunteering for us.”
“It’s such a source of comfort for me,” Margie
sighed, though she looked quite desolate. “It’s such a
blessing to be able to offer consolation to patients and
their families. Why, this very morning, while Bob was
in surgery, I counseled a family who had just lost an
elderly father. They’d been practically immobilized
with grief until I began telling them how soon any one
