in the ED long-term was clearly not going to work. She needed to find a new career and fast.
Shaking off her depressing thoughts, Elana drove her tiny compact car down to the clinic. The clinic was in the middle of the low-income district, several miles from her tiny apartment. The clinic had to be close to where people in need lived because many of these clients didn’t have cars or other means of reliable transportation.
Finding a parking space was always a challenge. As she walked inside the clinic, she discovered Tina Kaplan was the receptionist on duty.
“Hi, Tina. How are you today?”
“Great, Elana. How is your aunt Chloe doing?”
All of the staff at the New Beginnings Clinic knew Chloe, her foster mother, had volunteered her time here as a receptionist while Elana was growing up. Elana was glad that she could now return the favor, carrying on her foster mother’s tradition. “She’s wonderful. The cardiac stent went very well.”
“I’m so glad.” Tina handed over the list of patients who were already waiting to be seen. Their clients often began lining up at the door a half hour before the clinic officially opened.
“Me too.” Elana took the list and scanned it, as always checking to see which of her previous clients might be making a return visit. “Thanks, Tina. Who’s the doctor coming in today?”
“Hmm.” Tina glanced up at the handwritten schedule. “Looks like Liz Jacoby is the MD on the schedule today.”
Liz was an exceptionally talented African-American woman who donated a lot of her time to the New Beginnings Clinic. Most of their clients didn’t know that Liz Jacoby was also a nationally renowned breast cancer physician. Elana loved working with her. Her dull headache began to fade. “Excellent. We should have a good day, then.”
“When do you want me to start sending patients back?” Tina asked.
“Give me five minutes to make sure everything is well stocked, and then you can let ’em rip.”
Tina laughed, and Elana smiled as she headed back to the exam room. She routinely saw the patients first and then got the physician involved in their care as needed. Their system would have worked better with more volunteers, but so far, other than Raine, she hadn’t convinced any of her other co-workers to help by donating their time.
The first few patients came through with simple enough concerns. One woman had a bad cough with a fever that Elana suspected was a case of bronchitis turning into pneumonia. The next two patients were severely dehydrated from the stomach flu that was making its way through the city. Another young man came in with a serious burn on his forearm, with a story she absolutely did not believe.
“Jackson, there is no way you got this burn from a lighter falling on your arm,” she told him sternly. “Do you really think I’m that stupid? I can tell this is a gasoline burn. So why don’t you tell me what really happened?”
The young man refused to talk. Elana sighed and applied a generous amount of ointment to the burn, wrapping it with gauze to keep it clean and dry. Maybe Liz would be able to pry more information out of the taciturn young man.
“Elana?” Tina called from the other side of the door.
“Yes?”
“How much longer? There’s a young woman and a crying baby that need to get in to see you right away.”
That didn’t sound too good. She reached over and opened the door. “I’m nearly finished. Jackson just needs to see Dr Jacoby while I get his wound supplies together.”
“I’ll do it. Tell me what he needs.”
Elana raised a brow. “What’s going on? Is the baby that sick?”
“I don’t know, but the mother is crying almost as hard as the baby.” Tina’s eyes were full of compassionate concern. “I can’t stand it.”
“All right, get him ten rolls of gauze and a jar of burns cream. Jackson, you need to change this dressing twice a day and return here to the clinic in five days, do you understand? We need to make sure that burn doesn’t get infected.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Tina hustled the young man out of the exam room, taking him over to see the doctor. Elana quickly threw out the paper strip from the exam table and wiped down the surface with a disposable bleach cloth. Within two minutes, a young waif-thin girl lugging a crying baby on her shoulder came into the room.
“Good morning, I’m the nurse here, my name is Elana. What’s going on today?”
The young woman’s eyes were swollen and red from her weeping. “He just keeps crying and crying. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she murmured.
“There now, I’m sure it’s nothing you’re doing wrong,” Elana said firmly. “What’s your name? Do you mind if I hold him for a minute?”
Letting out a loud sniffle, the young woman handed the baby over. “I’m Lacey, and his name is Tucker. He’s seven weeks old.”
“Hi, Tucker,” Elana crooned, gently nuzzling the baby, testing the temperature of his skin. He did feel warm, but that could just as easily be because of the crying. She loved babies, another reason she volunteered her time here. Giving him one last nuzzle, she laid him on the exam table and undid his diaper, looking for obvious signs of irritation, like diaper rash, before using her stethoscope to listen to his heart and lungs.
Not an easy task while he was crying.
“Are you breast-feeding?” Elana asked, her heart going out to the waif-thin girl. The baby sounded a bit congested, but it could be merely the result of his non-stop crying. His ears didn’t look red, ruling out an ear infection.
“No. We give him whatever formula is on sale at the store,” Lacey admitted.
“That might be your problem,” Elana said gently. “Colicky babies don’t tolerate dairy-based formula, and you should really stick to one brand. I want you to try the soy-based formula, and nothing else. I’ll give you some free samples here.”
“Are you sure it’s nothing more serious?” Lacey asked, swiping her nose on her sleeve. The motion pushed up the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a few bloody cuts on her forearm. As if she sensed Elana’s gaze, she quickly covered the area back up again. “I can’t believe Tucker is crying this much just because of colic.”
Elana wanted to ask about the suspicious marks she saw on Lacey’s arm, but at the moment little Tucker was her primary concern. “Don’t underestimate colic, Lacey. I’ve seen many mothers reduced to tears over inconsolably crying babies. There are many ways to treat colic. First let me get a soy-based formula sample for you to try, okay?”
Lacey sniffled again and nodded.
“I’ll be right back.” Elana handed her the baby and hurried over to their jam-packed supply cabinet and found a six-pack of soy-based cans of formula and a disposable bottle. After quickly preparing the bottle, she brought it back to the exam room.
“Here, see if he’ll take this,” she instructed.
Lacey
