Violette
I woke up feeling revitalized after a nine-hour slumber, and as I opened my eyes, I discreetly glanced at the digital alarm clock on my bedside table. It read 8:34 a.m., still four hours before my afternoon shift started.
Satisfied that I'd slept soundly, I began my morning routine. My plan was to apply a face mask, deep clean the apartment, prepare breakfast for Aria and me, and brew coffee – essential for Aria's daily functioning.
As I entered the bathroom we shared, I took care to make no noise, not wanting to wake Aria. She turns into a monster when woken from sleep.
Standing before the mirror, I brushed my teeth with an electric toothbrush, the soft hum filling the silence.
My mind began to wander, as it often did when I was alone. Thoughts of my father, Diego Lopez, flooded my mind. He'd struggled to make ends meet after my mother passed away, giving birth to me. Though I'd never been to Argentina, my birthplace, I'd grown up in Philly under my father's care. He'd named me Violette, a nod to my mother's favorite color, purple.
However, as I grew older, our relationship deteriorated.
He became a monster, consumed by alcoholism and anger. He'd lash out at me, blaming me for my mother's death. The abuse and violence were relentless, and I felt trapped.
When he finally passed away, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. It was as if the world had finally acknowledged my existence, freed me from his toxic presence.
I stopped the toothbrush and wiped beneath my eye, It came out dry as always.
The door rattled, and Aria's voice pierced the silence.
"Open the door, I need to pee!"
I unlocked it, and she burst in.
"Why do you always lock the door when you're in here?" she asked, washing her hands after doing her business.
I hesitated, unsure how to explain the reflex that had developed over the years. The bathroom had been my sanctuary as a child, the one place I could lock myself away from my father's wrath.
"I needed privacy," I said instead. Aria raised an eyebrow, then opened the cabinet to retrieve her skincare products.
***************************
The elevator's door pings and opens,the ICU's calm and quiet atmosphere a stark contrast to the chaos of the ER. As an ICU nurse, I was used to working with critically ill patients who required close monitoring and life-sustaining interventions.
I changed into my scrubs, the familiar ritual a comforting routine. My name tag read "Violette Lopez, RN, ICU" – a reminder of the specialized care I provided. I clocked in, exchanged pleasantries with my colleagues, and headed to the ICU nurses' station to review the day's assignments.
My charge nurse, Samantha, briefed me on the patients I'd be caring for. "Violette, you've got Room 3, a 45-year-old male with septic shock on vasopressors. And Room 5, a post-op cardiac patient on a ventilator."
I nodded, taking mental notes as I scanned the patients' charts. I loved the complexity and challenge of ICU nursing, where every decision counted. My focus sharpened as I prepared for the intricate care required for these critically ill patients.
As I began my rounds, I assessed each patient's condition, titrating medications, adjusting ventilator settings, and closely monitoring their vital signs. The ICU was a high-stakes environment, but I thrived on the intensity and the opportunity to make a difference in patients' lives.
The afternoon flew by in a blur of critical care interventions, family updates, and multidisciplinary rounds. I worked seamlessly with the team, communicating effectively and prioritizing tasks to ensure the best possible outcomes for my patients.
As the shift wore on, I felt a sense of pride and satisfaction in the care I provided. ICU nursing wasn't for the faint of heart, but it was rewarding to see patients recover and thrive despite the odds.
"You are Lin your head again" Brinley my closest friend in the hospital says as we ride the elevator to the parking lot.
"No I am not" I shrug
"Yes you are, you need a vacation."
"Why?, I'm working" I glance at her to check if she was joking but she is not.
"That's the point, you work more than any nurse at this hospital" Brinley says as she sips water from her Stanley cup.
"You don't know that."
If I don't work, what else will I do?
"When was the last time you took a week or a month off"
It hasn't been that long. I hadn't taken so much as a sick day in... two years? No that couldn't be right.
Aria and I went to Thailand for my twenty -third birthday ... three years ago?
I frown, thinking back. Holy shit,it was. The only time I missed a shift was thanks to bout of food poisoning from a local deli that aria and I ordered from.
Three fucking years of icu nursing without a vacation? Yikes. Yeah, I needed to fix that. No wonder my head has been so messed up lately.
Brinley must see that I am just realizing I haven't had a day off in long time, cause she smiles at me, pats my back and exits the elevator.