streaming video

streaming video

fiction
edward w pritchard

Dr. Laura Kepis to ER. Dr. Kepis STAT,  ER.

Lazily I awoke from a nine minute nap in the intern's room. Asleep in a chair these last nine minutes, it sounded like my break was over.

A late supper of lay's low fat potato chips on the run. Through the three wings between me and the ER and I am set to go again.

A male nurse met me. This patient must be a security risk, we laid off all the night shift security guards. The nurse keeps calling me Ms. Kepis. I hate that, somehow he makes it sound so condescending.  I am the diminutive psychologist on staff and the nursing staff treats me like a kid. 

The patient is Canadian, like me. His accent gave him away. We had an immediate rapport. He's cute too, like my high school boyfriend, Byron.

The patient says if we put an IV in his arm the streaming video will be disrupted and he will die immediately. Protocol calls for an IV in a possible concussion. He is adamant. Apparently he grabbed the RN Mrs. Johnson's arm. I don't like her either, she is such a bitch.

The man's name is Neil and he is a musician from Toronto.  He says everybody is in a reenactment all the time. If the streaming video is interrupted it's over,  finale; putting in the IV will interrupt the streaming video for him. 

I tried to reason with him. Local police are here, they arrived just after I did. He is sedated and the IV is in.

Back in the intern's room later I heard the young man had died. Curious.