Chapter One
Danielle Wilson heard a buzz and noticed the light flashing for Room 435. She wouldn't mind chatting with Sophie Locke a bit before going off shift. Setting down her steaming cup of coffee, she turned the call light off and pushed the intercom button.
"Hey, Sophie. What do you need, hon?"
Silence.
Wait, was that a groan? Not a good sign.
"Sophie? Sophie?" What's that noise?
Her patient had been fine the last time she'd checked. Leaving the nurse's station, Danielle rushed toward Room 435.
Before she entered the doorway, Danielle heard the same sound she'd heard over the intercom. Sophie thrashed wildly in her hospital bed, rolling from side to side. Large beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. Dark brown hair stuck to the sides of her face, her cowlick plastered just a little off-center. [Maybe leave it at her hair being stuck to her face. The cowlick thing implies that a cowlick can change positions. Probably not your intention.] Sweat saturated her gown.
A low moan came from Sophie's throat. "Hurts," she whispered.
It looked as if Sophie might injure herself. Danielle padded to the side of the bed and reset the call button. Placing her hand on her patient's shoulder, she spoke softly. "Where do you hurt, hon?"
"All . . . over." The thrashing slowed, but not by much.
Danielle sensed she'd need some help. Sophie might roll off the mattress. First pulling up the rails on the bed, she pushed the call button.
"You need something?" The voice of Danielle's best friend, Veronica Davis, floated through the intercom.
"Can you help me out here, Ronnie?"
"Sure. I'll be right there."
Taking the day-sheet from the folder clipped to the side of the bed, Danielle checked her patient's meds. She was on a four-hour schedule and just as Danielle had remembered, Sophie last received her medicine at four-thirty, only an hour ago. She was fine when Danielle had given her the scheduled dose. Why was Sophie having this vicious siege of breakthrough pain?
Danielle sighed with relief when Veronica entered the room. "Thanks for coming so quickly. I need to get Sophie some meds, and I don't want to leave her alone."
"Sure, I'll stay with her." Veronica found a cloth and wiped perspiration from Sophie's brow, pushing her hair back from her face. Then she moved her feet away from the edge of the bed and covered her with the sheet. Sophie rolled over on her side and moaned.
Why was she in so much pain after just an hour? Maybe she needed stronger meds. Danielle took her patient's chart and hurried to the nurse's station. Francine, her nursing supervisor, stood with her back toward her, but Danielle recognized her strawberry blond hair. [It slows things down a little to say Francine was standing with her back toward her. Also, not every action needs to be shown, but my instincts here say that if you have Francine facing away, you should show her turning around. So you’d avoid that by simply saying Danielle approached Francine.]
"I need morphine for Sophie Locke. I've never seen her in such agony." Danielle pointed to Dr. Radcliff's prescription.” I have her chart here. She's allowed more medication for breakthrough pain. I was afraid she'd injure herself because she was thrashing so hard."
Francine's voice was soft and melodious. "Dani, are you crying?"
She often warned Danielle about getting too attached to her patients. It was a hazard of the job for all the nurses on this floor. Since Danielle's father died of liver cancer when she was seventeen, she was especially vulnerable. [Good opportunity for internal conflict. A nurse who gets too involved.]
Danielle blinked. "I think I have something in my eye."
"Well, okay, if you're sure." Francine opened the narcs cabinet and handed her subordinate a vial of morphine. She put her hand on Danielle's shoulder. "Let me know when you return the vial."
As Francine went back to her project on the computer, Danielle snapped the seal off the vial. She filled the syringe with twenty milligrams of morphine. After that, she capped the needle and placed the vial back in the cabinet. She carefully logged the medicine, then picked up her supplies.
"All set," she told Francine, and hurried back toward Sophie's room.
Moaning. An acrid smell filled the room. [If you do one sentence like “Moaning,” maybe you should do two. I don’t know, though. It doesn’t seem to fit the rest of your style.] Veronica stood beside the bed, holding a basin under Sophie's chin.
Danielle placed the syringe and supplies on the bedside table, then found a damp cloth. She didn't like to see Sophie so sick. As she cleaned her small square face, she spoke softly to her all the while.
Veronica took the basin to the sink. "I'll get another gown and clean bedding." After she rinsed out the basin, she quietly left the room.
"Just a little stick, hon." Danielle gave Sophie her shot of morphine and threw the used syringe and needle in the sharps container.
Pulling the edges of the sheets from the bed, Danielle was careful not to jostle her patient. Each time she pulled on another side of the sheet, the bitter smell of hydrochloric acid, which Veronica hadn't caught in the basin, filled the air. Sophie moaned.
Danielle wiped Sophie's mouth again. "When Ronnie gets back, we'll get the rest of you cleaned up."
She didn't want to disturb Sophie's fragile bones any more than necessary, so she carefully rolled the sheet to keep the dampness away from her patient.
Veronica re-entered the room, laying the bedding and a clean gown on the side table. She'd also brought a can of air freshener.
"I need to use the bathroom," Sophie whispered.
Veronica picked up the fitted sheet. "I'll change the bed while you take her to the bathroom.”
Sophie grasped Danielle's hand. "I was going home tomorrow."
"I know. I'm so sorry, hon, but now we'll have to get your pain meds regulated."
The little bathroom was chilly and Sophie shivered. When the water felt warm to Danielle's hand, she helped her patient clean up and get into her gown. Then she led her to the freshly made bed and pulled the sheet and blanket over her. A strong pine smell filled the room. She stood by the bed holding her patient's hand. She'd stay in the room until she knew the morphine had kicked in. [Go back and look at the number of times you refer to Sophie as “her patient.”]
"Pray with me, Dani."
Danielle began to pray quietly. "Dear Father God, be with my friend Sophie, and her caretakers. Be her comforter, dear Lord, and help us as we walk through this valley together." She continued to pray and felt the tension leave as Sophie slowly relaxed.
Danielle lingered beside the bed for a few minutes. She had seen breakthrough pain before, but it wasn't usually so quick and violent. Her patient shouldn't have to suffer like this and she hoped it didn't mean Sophie's cancer was raging out of control. Perhaps Dr. Radcliff could prevent this from happening again by changing Sophie's meds. Danielle sighed and left the room to finish her charts.
"Hey, Dani." Chris Wilson leaned over the counter of the nurse's station. "Will you be finished soon?" [It might be best to leave off his last name since it’s her husband. I hadn’t remembered Dani’s last name is
"Hey." The sight of her husband still turned Danielle's legs to jelly, and to think that tomorrow [tomorrow is a present tense word] they'd be married eight years. She admired his short blond hair, his funny little ski slope nose, and his bright, wide smile. "I'm running a little late tonight. Can you get Michelle from Ms. Anthony's Day Care? I'll come home when I finish here."
"I'll do better than that." Chris grinned at his wife. "I picked up some sweet corn on the way over here. Michelle and I will fix supper."
Chris enjoyed cooking, and four-year-old Michelle loved to help her parents in the kitchen. {Danielle looked forward to the evening.} [That’s kind of a flat statement. Either give it a little more punch (sorry, I can’t come up with a suggestion) or skip it.] Brian and Veronica Davis were coming for dinner. Their daughter Lauren was the same age as Michelle. The girls went to daycare together.
"Great!" Danielle giggled. "That will impress Ronnie and Brian."
Chris bent his six-foot frame farther over the counter and leaned toward his wife. [her. His wife makes it sound like his POV.] Danielle rose onto the balls of her feet to reach him and he gave her a kiss. A loud kiss. Mmm. It made her giggle. She loved the smell of his aftershave, and she loved his kisses, but sometimes his public expressions of affection were so . . . so embarrassing. She watched her husband until he was out of sight. Feeling silly, she tried to keep the grin off her face, but couldn't.
Danielle smiled as she sat and worked on her daily-sheets until her evening replacement, Wilma Hammed, joined her. At first glance, Wilma looked a little like Sophie. However, Wilma wore her hair longer, with a widow's peak in the center of her forehead.
Wilma grabbed a stool next to Danielle. "What's so funny?" she asked.
"Nothing." Danielle giggled. [That’s her third giggle. And a giggle is such a particular kind of laugh—girlish—that it should be overused. I think the one after the loud kiss will be enough to show how she reacts to her husband. The fact that he can make her giggle with a kiss after 8 years of marriage is sweet.] "My husband just stopped by to see how late I'd be working tonight.”
I'll bet she's thinking, What's with this girl? Danielle thought. [No offense, but that first thought is taking the easy way out. You could show Wilma’s expression instead.] Gotta get a grip here. "Oh, I'm just embarrassed because he's so smoochie." Danielle grinned, then sighed and shrugged "He doesn't care who's around. You'd think after eight years I'd be used to it . . . eight years tomorrow.”
Wilma gave her a curious look. "Oh. Well, congratulations.”
Danielle nodded, then sobered. Wilma was a single mother. Maybe she shouldn't gush over her own happiness. She went over the patient charts with her, since Wilma would care for these patients on the night shift.
This probably isn’t the end of your chapter, but they way things slow down toward the end here, makes me wonder how much of this is necessary. Every book will have slow moments—just make sure they’re necessary moments. And only you’ll know that.
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