Tio's betrayal and my rescue

When I woke up, pain consumed me. My throat burned, and instinctively, I reached for my neck—only to realize I couldn’t move. Panic set in as I discovered I was restrained. I hated being restrained. My heart pounded, and the machines around me erupted into frantic beeping.

The noise jolted Doc awake. His eyes widened before he bolted into the hallway, shouting for help. Within seconds, doctors and nurses flooded the room.

A sharp prick in my IV. A rush of drowsiness. My body grew heavy, my vision hazy. Then came a sharp, tearing pain as the breathing tube slid from my throat.

"You were shot," Doc said, his voice tight. "Tio tried to kill you."

Shock rippled through me. Why? I mouthed, my throat too raw for sound.

"You wouldn’t tell him where your brother and Kay were hiding Anthony," Doc explained. "He was going to take Anthony, but he’s in prison now."

"How long?" I mouthed again.

"Twenty years," he answered. "Anthony has been here every day. He remembers you—he pats your face and says, 'Love. Mama.' Your brother still has him."

I swallowed past the pain. "The Powers That Be?"

"They went to Kay’s office to warn her about Tio, but they were too late," Doc said. "She’s fine. Security arrested him, and he won’t be getting out anytime soon."

A shaky sigh left me. Relief. Weak, but real. 

I was relieved to have Doc with me, and I fell asleep holding his hand. Knowing he would stay by my side through the next few days gave me a sense of peace, and I slept soundly without dreams.

When I woke the next morning, I was comforted to find Doc still there, squeezed onto the hospital bed beside me. I nudged him awake as the surgeon who had operated on me entered the room.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the doctor greeted me. “I don’t have a name for you other than Jane Doe. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Tired and thirsty,” I whispered hoarsely. “When can I leave?”

“Ms. Doe, you’ll need to stay a few more days. You lost nearly three-quarters of your blood and are extremely weak. We had to give you multiple transfusions during surgery.”

“I want to leave tomorrow. I own this hospital.”

The doctor remained unfazed. “I’m treating you like any other patient, regardless of hospital ownership. Even Doc agrees—you’ll be here for at least two more nights.”

“Promise?” I asked, sighing. “I don’t sleep much, and I hate being bored.”

“We’ll find something to keep you occupied tomorrow. But for today, your only job is to rest and stay hydrated.”

“Like what? The books here are children’s play, there’s nothing educational on TV. I need to see my son…I will not tolerate him being exposed to the strain of germs, bacteria and viruses that are in the hospital.”

“There’s a lot that needs to be reorganized in the hospital and its departments. The lounges are a mess and not properly stocked, department leadership is lacking, and we need better staff.”

“Put together a list of department heads you want me to review, along with the lounges that need attention and the supplies they’re missing. I’ll handle it.”

“When do you need the list?”

“After your rounds, charting, and everything else.”

“You’re my last patient for rounds, so once I’m done charting, I’ll pull everything together. Maybe an hour or so?”

“That works,” I said.

After the doctor left, Doc helped me up so I could undress, slip on my sandals, and take a shower. Once I was clean, I put on some of my own clothes, though I had to settle for a hospital gown with shoulder snaps since the IVs in both arms made wearing a regular shirt impossible.

Shortly after, breakfast arrived, but it looked far from appetizing. Fortunately, Doc ate it instead, and just a few minutes later, Kay showed up with food from home. She knew how much I hated hospital meals and that I’d be starving. Unfortunately, everything she brought was soft food. Doc must have told her my throat was sore from the intubation tube and that even swallowing water was painful. Being the wonderful friend she is, Kay brought yogurt, pudding, Jell-O, and Nutella. I was beyond grateful.

Two hours later, the doctor returned with an armful of pens, highlighters, notepads, and a few lists for me to review. We sat down to brainstorm, reworking the hospital’s staffing structure and calling in department heads. It wasn’t a smooth process, but with input from Doc and my surgeon, we updated policies, procedures, and even reassigned leadership roles where necessary.

We also touched on department budgets, though I was fading fast and needed to rest. At that point, the responsibility shifted to Doc and the other hospital administrators. I knew it wouldn’t be fair to the hospital, the staff, the volunteers, or the patients for me to make all the decisions alone.

I slept for several hours, and when I woke up, a few unfamiliar nurses were adjusting my IV bags. I immediately told them to step back and asked for the charge nurse.

A few minutes later, the charge nurse arrived and asked what the issue was. I explained that I only wanted nurses I knew and trusted handling my care and that I had no idea who these nurses were. Once the charge nurse realized who I was, she completely understood and agreed, promptly banning those nurses from my room.

After they left, she excused herself to grab some paper and a pen. When she returned, she asked me to provide a list of staff members I trusted. It was a short list, but with those names in hand, she granted them primary access to my chart and then instructed IT to restrict the rest of the hospital from viewing my records. One notable person excluded from access was Doc—I didn’t want to explain any past, present, or future procedures to him.

Later, I ate more of the food Kay had brought. My brother stopped by for a visit, Doc checked in between patients, and Kay called a few times to see how I was doing. I was glad to get some work done, even if the doctor had only created something to keep me occupied—it was still necessary work.

When Doc finished his shift, he ran home to shower, change, packed a bag, and then came straight back to the hospital. We arranged for an extra hospital bed to be brought into the room so we could both sleep more comfortably.