AStabbing Back Pains
A
I had been expecting Pam to be awake the morning after mitral valve surgery. They’d gotten her off the ventilator some time in the middle of the night. The nurse was gathering her notes and getting ready to write report, finishing up an 11p-7a shift caring for four patients. I asked her how Pam did during the night.
“Well, she was restless all night, kept twisting and moving around. Seems like she couldn’t get comfortable.” She lightly stroked Pam’s cheek with the back of her hand. “Poor thing.”
This is what she’d just written in her notes:
“Nurse’s note 06:20 Pt more restless and moving constantly in bed. Has received Ativan and Fentanyl… She is reporting stabbing back pains… she has repositioned herself repeatedly…”
The nurse and I were standing on the same side of the bed facing the open door. An unshaven young man in rumpled scrubs walked in and, without looking at us, put his hands under the sheets covering Pam’s upper abdomen. The nurse and I looked at each other.
“Excuse me,” said the nurse.
The intruder paid no attention and kept rooting around under the sheets. I said Hey and he kept going and I said HEY again, loudly and sharply, and that got his attention and he looked up. The nurse and I both said: “Who are you?” He said he was from Cardiology and he was there to check on Pam’s pacemaker. Then he disappeared. The nurse said she’d never seen him before. She shrugged and went out. 
Stabbing back pains…
I adjusted the pillow beneath Pam’s head. I slid my hand under her back to smooth out the sheet. I felt something and pulled from beneath her lower back a pair of curved forceps.
