"CHAMELEON"
_____________________________________________________________________________________
COLE STEELE
Copyright © 2018 by Cole Steele
All rights reserved
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved
above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced
into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without
the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental.
ONE
Maxine Ridenour reached for her side again as the
excruciating sharp pain returned. It was
becoming more frequent having started very early in the morning bringing her
out of a deep dream filled restful slumber.
The timing couldn’t have been worse.
A single loan application had nearly been completed in the small
hometown banks computer system. The
financial institution was made up of just a few branches with one situated
inside the city limits of Kirkwood. She
had been fortunate enough to find work with what she thought was almost
assuredly a tainted resume. Maxine had
worked for Wells Fargo as a branch manager for nearly twenty years until she
was abruptly let go following the latest scandal that rocked their customer
base for the second time in nearly a decade.
The CFPB responded with a fine that was simply not going to be absorbed
without casualty. Service to the bank
was only recognized by a fair severance for time invested. Although Maxine hadn’t done anything to
warrant her release it didn’t matter as the shareholders demanded a fresh look
to repair the tarnished image starting from the bottom of the organization upward to its existing leadership.
Employed as a loan officer she had less flexibility than her
previous position at Wells Fargo by working for a much smaller institution. The branch manager ran a tight ship enforcing
a strict schedule including lunch hours.
She looked at the time on the lower right corner of her computer screen.
It was nearly 10:30 AM and her designated lunch hour wasn’t for another hour
and a half. There was a Med Express less
than a mile from the bank’s office.
Maxine promised herself she would get checked out if the pain had not
subsided by then. The source of her
discomfort seemed to be isolated in one general area of her abdomen.
Another fifteen minutes had passed bringing a slight fever
as she felt a bit of moisture on the back of her hand after lightly touching
her forehead with it. Maxine finished
uploading the information for the bank’s prospective loan applicant and then
answered a few emails trying to keep her mind elsewhere besides the ever
growing pain in the upper right quadrant of her digestive system. It was little use trying to distract her mind
from the litany of problems that now included nausea. At 11:00 AM Maxine knocked on the open door
of the branch manager explaining the situation.
Without much hesitation, to her surprise, she was told to go get seen
right away and text back whether she would be in the following morning.
Instead of going straight to the Med Express she drove
herself directly to the Emergency Room of Kirkwood Memorial Hospital. Making most of the lights along without
having to fight the rush hour traffic she pulled into the parking lot
designated for patient drop off. Once inside
the sliding glass doors she walked calmly as possible to the reception
window. A woman in her late twenties
with brown medium length wavy hair dressed in purple smocks greeted Maxine
politely.
“Welcome to Memorial how can we help you?”
Placing her hand on the counter she stood for a second with
the other on her abdomen.
“I need help.
Something is terribly wrong and I don’t know what it is?”
“Are you in a lot of pain?”
“Something awful and it seems to be getting worse.”
“Alright. If you would take this and fill out just the
highlighted areas I’ll have someone come out to get you in just a minute or
so. Can you do that much or no?”
“I can manage, I think.”
“Your name Mam?”
“Maxine Ridenour.”
The clerk began typing on the keyboard that slid out from
underneath the desk. Adjusting the
monitor slightly she smiled back at Maxine gently. She had written her name and managed to get
most of the information that the clerk suggested down on the hospitals
documents.
“A nurse will be out momentarily Ms. Ridenour if you’d have
a seat in the waiting area.”
Late morning at Memorial found the room almost empty except
for an elderly couple sitting next to each other near the large aquarium. Maxine chose a seat closest to the reception
area doors where she knew the nurse would come out to retrieve her. She couldn’t get comfortable in the chair
leaning on either side. Her husband was
still at home and still hadn’t responded to several texts. Working third shift at a local plastics plant
he typically didn’t get up until early afternoon. A male voice called her name as she put the
cell phone away.
“Ms. Maxine Ridenour?”
Her body temperature was elevated significantly since
arriving as the immune system inside her body went on an all-out defensive
assault.
“Yes?”
Looking at the woman sitting alone in her forties she didn’t
look like she was going to be ambulatory for very long as the nurse quickly
retrieved a wheelchair helping Maxine into the seat and rolled her through the
wide doorway down to examination room number three.
“Where are you feeling the discomfort Maxine?”
“My stomach, around there.”
She didn’t dare press down as it hurt to breathe lying down
on the hospital bed with its thin mattress accompanied by an even less
comfortable white pillow. Maxine simply
pointed to an area just under her ribcage. It had been an arduous task in
getting the flimsy flowered gown on that felt two sizes too big.
“If you had to rate the pain between one and ten?”
“Eight.”
Her nurse was a male in his early thirties with a neatly
trimmed dark beard that matched a well- groomed short hairstyle. The dark green smocks he wore fit his tall
medium frame comfortably. He quickly
gathered her vitals wasting little time.
Entering them into her chart on the hospital’s system he completed the
task with fluid ease. Although he had his own theories of what might be
bothering Maxine Ridenour they soon dissipated as a woman similar in age to his
patient entered the room joining them.
She had beautiful sharp features that were complimented by high
cheekbones. Her long blonde hair
appeared to be flawless. Tall with a
thin athletic build she could have easily passed for much younger than her
actual age.
“Maxine, I’m Dr. Scott.
So you’re not feeling too well I understand.”
“I’ve never been in this much pain doctor. It feels like someone is stabbing me with a
hot poker then finishing it with a baseball bat.”
“How long have you been experiencing it?”
“Since this morning, early.
It took me right out of a deep sleep.”
“Have you eaten anything today?”
“I tried having my usual breakfast but couldn’t finish it.”
“Loss of appetite?”
“Just made the pain worse.”
“Maxine, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure, anything. Just
make it go away.”
“I’ll certainly try.
I want you to take a few deep breaths when I say.”
“It kind of hurts to do that now.”
“Just a couple.”
Marlene Scott quickly palpated finding the inferior margin
of Maxine’s rib cage and then gently pressed just below it. Maxine winced simply by the touch of hands
against her warm skin.
“Whatever you did that’s it.”
“Ok just one breath for me.
Go ahead and inhale.”
She followed the doctor’s instructions by first closing her
eyes then drawing a deep breath.
Marlene pressed against warm skin as she felt near the
middle aged woman’s diaphragm as it met with resistance from the
gallbladder. Immediately it brought a
twisted grimace of pain from the patient.
“Please don’t ask me to do that again.”
“Maxine I think you may have an issue with a gallstone. Just to be sure we’re going to do an
ultrasound. I promise it will be less
painful.”
“Can I get something for the pain?”
“Let’s get this test out of our way first then we can
discuss pain management. You may not
need it until after.”
Marlene ordered the ultrasound stat. She had seen it plenty of times. The positive Murphy’s Sign was definitely a
strong indicator of Cholecystitis. What her concerns were was that her patient
might be suffering from a rupture which would require an immediate Laparoscopic
procedure to extract the middle aged patient’s gallbladder.
The technician was quick to respond and produced images that
confirmed Marlene’s preliminary suspicion.
Maxine Ridenour was potentially hours away from a rupture and impending
sepsis. There were several small stones
that had accumulated causing the blockage. It was no wonder that her patient
was suffering such awful discomfort. She
walked back into the room holding the evidence.
“Maxine, we found out what’s been bothering you this
morning. The good news is that we can
take care of it today but you’ll have to spend the night.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“You have Cholecystitis.
Or more simple terms, there is a severe blockage with your gallbladder
and we need to remove it before there’s any further complications such as a
rupture. I thought it was fairly severe
given the pain you were in and the ultrasound was the clincher. Did you want to see the pictures?”
“I’m good. When will
you do the surgery?”
“A colleague of mine will perform the procedure within a few
hours after he is available. Typically
you’d be out the same day but we want to keep you overnight for
observation. Do you have someone that
can take you home tomorrow?”
“My husband, but he’ll have to call into work to get the day
off.”
“Ok Maxine, best of luck to you and in a few weeks you
should be back to normal living.”
“Thank you Dr. Scott.”
“You’re more than welcome.
I may stop by later on my way out to see how you’re doing.”
Several hours had passed since her time in the ER as Maxine
Ridenour was taken to her room up on the fifth floor toward the end of the hall
away from the nurse’s station. Some of
the effects from the anesthesia clung to her bloodstream making things a bit
foggy. She tried desperately to
recapture short term memories prior to surgery as a figure appeared in the
doorway.
Making an effort to sit up she noticed clear plastic tape on
the top of her right hand. Maxine
followed a single line of tubing from under the adhesive with her eyes up to a
bag of Lactated Ringer’s solution that was resupplying the drip chamber at a
steady pace.
The door closed quietly behind the lone visitor as they
scanned the room momentarily before approaching. Something about them looked so familiar to
her but she was having such difficulty remembering anything. Perhaps it was the eyes that only remained visible
because of the surgical mask concealing any additional features. Maxine’s memory clicked for a brief second as
a bit of the anesthesia began to dissipate.
The emergency room physician. She
had indicated that she might visit.
“How long was I out doctor?”
Her visitor didn’t reply but casually withdrew a syringe
from the front pocket of a white lab coat.
Reaching up to grab the IV line the port was opened and a needle inserted. Latex gloves covering the hands stretched as
a thumb slowly pressed the plunger down delivering contents directly into her
port. Maxine looked up into the blue eyes
which met her with a blank stare. She
managed just a few more words from a mouth that felt dry as cotton.
“This must have been the pain management you mentioned
earlier.”
Less than a few minutes passed as Maxine Ridenour went into
full cardiac arrest as the delivery worked its way through her bloodstream
returning back to the heart. Her visitor
had vaporized as quickly as they had appeared as an alarm sounded from one of
the monitors above Maxine indicating that a pulse was no longer detectable. A coordinated personnel response team came
sprinting down the hallway toward her room answering Memorial’s code blue as
she expired.
A few floors below in the surgical waiting area a man in his
late forties looked up at the large monitor mounted on the wall. His wife of twenty years had gone in for a
routine procedure but her status still had not changed for a few hours. Nervously looking around he noticed most of
the room had emptied as family and friends had been directed to their patients’
floor by a green dot next to their identifying number which indicated that they
were already out of surgery. The short
balding male approached an elderly woman in her late sixties occupying the desk
with a single monitor and a smartphone.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes?”
“Would you do me a favor please, and check on a patient?”
“Certainly, the last name?”
“Ridenour.”
