No More Doctor Nice Guy. Part 2 free porn video

No more Dr Nice Guy - Part 2 I crashed heavily and violently into the firm ground of the grassed nature strip beside the road, Kevin's inertial mass toppling me over and sprawling on top of me. The truck thundered by less than 2 feet from my face. I was momentarily winded and pinned beneath him. I found myself even more scared, and increasingly aware of my vulnerability. Seemingly new emotions I was hereto unfamiliar with. I know what he wants to do to me, and I'm not sure he isn't going to do it right here and now, on the roadside. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he screamed. "What does it look like?" I shouted back. "Get off me!" He does so. Clambering to a stand; but immediately after he is upright he leans and grabs me, using his strength to force me up, keeping a hold on my arm, around my bicep, with one hand. "You were this close to getting yourself killed." He indicates with his free hand, fingers barely apart. "That was the general idea," I hiss. "Alex, I know you're in shock about what's happened to you. But can't you see the absurdity of this? Hours ago you were making me feel lousy and stupid for trying to kill myself. And now you're trying to do exactly the same. Do you not practice what you preach at all?" "I'd rather die than be like this! Than have you rape me!" I screech. "What?" His face contorts in stunned exasperation. "I'm not going to rape you!" "You are! I saw the way you looked at me!" "Jesus! That's the curse. I told you that. It compels me to chase women. To want to have sex with them. And when Mr Black said he was going to give me a wife to help satisfy my sexual desires, I didn't know that it would be involuntarily. I'm not an animal." I didn't respond but looked at him sullenly. "Just come home. We can discuss this there. One of these passing cars may call the cops if they saw you try and throw yourself on the road. Or if they think we are having some sort of domestic barney." "I don't want to go anywhere with you." I pout. "Well where are you going to go?" he asks frankly rather than snidely. "I think you'll find 'Our' home is the only home you've got." I concede. He is of course correct. "Fine! But don't touch me!" He still had his hand on me, gently grasping rather than gripping. As I thought about it, it was probably designed to prevent me lunging out onto the road again rather than forcing me into submission. Regardless he released his hold in response to my command. He waited for me to lead the way back down the side street. I stood my ground for a moment longer, in futile resistance, before exhaling with a huffing sound and storming back towards whence we had just come. We walked silently, Kevin a few paces behind me. Further down the street I hesitated. I realized I didn't know which house I fled from. I turn towards Kevin expectantly. "It's that one." He points, seeming to understand my uncertainty. I walk towards the door. "Where are we anyway?" "Crayburn." Crayburn! I internalize my exclamation. Outer East. A far cry from my swish inner east apartment in Hawfield. Whilst I may be feeling a wave of disgust at my sudden drop in socioeconomic status, I ensure I don't express it. I try to remember what my now husband does for a job. As I think back to our interaction I'm not even sure I bothered to ask. It's a pretty dodgy psychiatric evaluation if I don't even bother to find that out about a suicidal patient. But I guess that didn't matter any more. I could just ask him what he does. If I cared enough to. I mean if I was planning to hang around. Which I wasn't. I tried to be analytical about my actions. I was confused; and scared. Frankly I still am. My attempts to give myself a violent end was a completely irrational knee jerk reaction to my predicament. An outburst of impulsivity. I was still yet to completely fathom what had been done to me. All I could go on in the illuminated gloom of the streetlights was what I felt, and what I could see when I looked down upon myself. I would need to face a mirror at some point. But I didn't want to and was planning on delaying it for as long as possible. Denial was good. Having to face my own reflection would cement the reality of it somehow. And; even though I knew this was coming from some absurd perverse sense of vanity, what if I'm hideous? Kevin said he'd been an attractive woman. It seemed like a bold self assessment. Either he'd been very secure in himself before the transformation, or when he had renewed perspective he had been able to see what he once was. Although he did say he had to fight men off so he may well have understood his beauty and power. Now he was just an average looking guy. Not that I was much judge of guys' looks. For the most part I couldn't tell what women found attractive. I figured I was an average looking guy too. But I was rich, successful and confident. Which made me a better option than most. My initial impression was that Mr Black had transformed me because I was an accidental witness to his apparition, and that made me a loose end. But his parting comments had made me wonder if there was more to this. Had he deemed me needful of punishment? And was part of that punishment to make me an ugly woman. I shuddered involuntarily. By then we crossed the threshold into the house and I decided I needed to disembark this train of thought for now. Standing in the hall I say almost reflexively, but nonetheless petulantly. "I'm cold." I had fled into the mid winter night in just my scrubs. A short sleeved t-shirt type top and thin pants. Only now as my adrenaline had completely dissipated that I felt the full force of the environmental conditions. "I'll turn the heater on," Kevin offers. "Go sit on the couch," he directs. "I'll get you a blanket." I do as instructed and he returns with a red fluffy blanket he had procured and wraps it around me. I don't resist. I suspect he is being nice to me in an attempt to curry favor. Does he expect me to just offer myself up? Maybe he does? Oh God! Mr Black turned Kevin from a beautiful woman with disregard for men, into a horny sexually frustrated socially inept man. What if my fate mirrors that? What if I'm now an ugly slut? I cast a furtive glance in Kevin's direction as he sat on the other couch. Fearful that I would feel the stirrings of lust. I felt....... Nothing. No attraction. But no particular revulsion either. Was I still attracted to women? Was I still essentially me? I felt I was in too much turmoil right now to accurately ascertain that. I can feel Kevin staring at me. I brace myself. Uncertain if there is still to be a pending attack. He must have seen it, my stiffening, as he sighs. "Alex I know you're scared. But you need to take a deep breath and calm down." "Don't patronise me!" Hostility seems to be my default. "I'm not! I know you're the psychiatrist. Or you were. So you must be able to realize how irrational you are being. Unless he's taken that away from you." "Taken what?" "Your knowledge. You know. Your abilities. Because you're not that person anymore." Was he right? I was no longer Dr Alex Turner. Did that mean I no longer had his skills? Was this me now? An hysterical, irrational, emotional wreck of a woman, with little or no insight. God! It seemed both probable and true. I'm not 'me' any more. Then who the hell am I? "I don't know. I'm so confused." I don't have time to filter, and express my honest sentiments. "I was like that too at first. And I didn't have anyone. At least I'm here to help you." "You're just being nice to me because you think that will make me let you fuck me." "Oh for goodness sake!" His face expresses wounded hurt. "You know what. It appears you still are exactly the same person. You were an obnoxious prick with no bedside manner when I saw you in the hospital. You made it clear you didn't want to be there and didn't care about me at all. And now you're just the same. Except now I can say you're actually being a bitch." "Well it's your fault I've been turned into this. You brought this demon or whatever into my life. I got changed because I accidently saw him. Because you tried to kill yourself and that made him unhappy." "You really are going to try and absolve yourself from blame aren't you?" "What do you mean?" "I overheard what the Emergency doctor and nurse said about you after you left. They didn't think much of you or the way you treated them. Something we had in common. From what I know of Mr Black he gets a certain satisfaction out of punishing those he thinks deserving. And quite frankly you were pretty deserving." As I sat there feeling pathetic and sorry for myself as Kevin concluded his character assassination, Mr Black's words became suddenly clear. He'd said it was my job to stop Kevin from trying to kill himself again. By making me his wife. And he had said he found me arrogant, rude and uncaring. Kevin was right. He had seen fit to punish me. But what haunted me most was his promise to never see me again. I was stuck like this. Whatever this was. And unlike Kevin, my own suicide attempt had not precipitated his return. It was pretty clear that he was not particularly interested in any follow up. He'd let me kill myself if I wanted to. And quite frankly, I still want to. All the more in light of the general opinion of me. And particularly I suppose Kevin's opinion of me. Which seemed to matter a lot. Whereas once I may wouldn't have worried in the slightest about what a few people, who I considered beneath me, thought, their resentment weighed heavily on me. I could feel tears welling in my eyes. "I'm sorry," I squeaked. Although I wasn't sure for what. For everything I suppose. And probably largely for myself. I wasn't sure if I had any friends in this new life. Maybe not. But Kevin Moore seemed genuine in his concern and patient with me in spite of my behavior. "Thank you for stopping me." I still thought suicide was my best option. My only option really. But not like that. Not violently and messily. Not traumatizing some poor innocent truck driver for the rest of his days. And what if he'd tried to swerve to avoid me and in doing so had plowed into Kevin or someone else in a car, and hurt or killed them. It seemed I was self absorbed and selfish even in death. Not really much of a legacy to leave to be honest. I cried silently for a few minutes. Unnerved by Kevin's lack of response to my apology. Although that was probably justified. "What now?" I asked softly once I'd regained my composure. And I meant it. I had no idea what to do next. "I suggest you get some sleep. And then we better try and work out when your next shift is." "My what?" "Your next shift at the hospital. You're a nurse now remember." "No way. I don't know anything about being a nurse." He seemed to think I would take this all lying down. Just accept my new life. "Perhaps you do. Besides, even if you don't, surely your skills as a Doctor could be used." I did not share his optimism. "I haven't treated anything but people's minds for the past 5 years. I did my intern year in general medicine and that was it. Trust me. There is no overlap between a psychiatry fellow and an emergency nurse. I'll kill someone." "Alex. It's your job. You have to earn a living. I could barely make ends meet on my own. I can't support us both." I consider his words. He seems to be taking responsibility for me. I feel unsettled at the notion. But, confusingly, in apparent contradiction, maybe a little comforted by it. I don't want to analyse my emotions any deeper right now. So I choose a tangent. "I suspect your Mr Black is a patriarchal sexist pig." "Why do you say that?" "The whole boys are doctors, girls are nurses shtick. I mean if he wanted to turn me into a woman fine. But there are plenty of female psychiatrists you know." "I think you're missing the point. I think the way you treated that emergency nurse is why you're one now yourself. And if you were still a psychiatrist I doubt we'd be living in Crayburn. He wanted you emasculated and impoverished. I imagine your arrogance made him want you to feel humility." Kevin seems to be the one showing all the insight now. I feel suddenly devoid of my last 6 years of training into the machinations of the human mind. "I'm totally the master and arbiter of my own doom aren't I?" I concede grimly. "It would appear so." He does not gloat though. "I still can't live with this though." I deliberately try to express steely determination rather than a pathetic whimper. "Just sleep on it Alex," he suggests, with identifiable concern. "I know it sounds ridiculously hypocritical after what I did today. But maybe things will seem better in the morning." "You felt less suicidal today because you thought Mr Black was giving you a wife." I recall his reason for the change of heart at the hospital. "But he kind of tricked you too. Why don't you feel the same way again?" I wasn't trying to put ideas in his head; but I did want to understand his back flip. "Because you're a project. You've given me a purpose Alex. Suicide is a self indulgence. Right now there's a substantially wounded human being in front of me that I need to help and protect." He thinks I'm a helpless damsel. I mean he's correct. Right now that's exactly what I am. But I don't want to affirm that to him; or to me. "Is that because I bring out the caveman in you? I don't want your pity Kevin!" "And yet you desperately need it!" he says with kindness, in response to my aggression. "Come on; the bedroom's this way." He must see me bristle again because he adds. "Relax. I'm sleeping on the couch." The house is small and simple. Master with en suite. Two smaller bedrooms with another bathroom. The other bedroom's are unfurnished, and everything is sparse given Kevin's bachelor lifestyle prior to today. There is one living room and a separate combined kitchen/meals area. Aside from a small laundry and single car garage that was pretty much it. "Bathroom's in there." Kevin indicates the en suite. I move towards it, and freeze. Kevin notices and asks. "What?" "What do I look like?" I ask tentatively. "Go see for yourself." He thinks nothing of it. "I can't. I need warning. Am I.....Am I normal?" "No. You look like Quasimodo." He tries to be obviously sarcastic. He spies something by the bed and moves past me to get it. "If you can't face the mirror then look at this. It seems to have appeared on my bedside table." He hands me a framed photo. "What is it?" I ask, like a stupid person. "Well judging by the rental tux and white dress I'd say it's our wedding photo." I look at it. Kevin is easily recognizable. He scrubs up well. Beside him is a pretty smiling bride. There is complete dissociation. She looks nothing like me. And by that I suppose nothing like a female version of Alex Turner. "Is that me?" I say with disbelief. Continuing with my streak of idiocy. "Well I've only got one wife. As far as I know." "Do I look like this now?" "Well you currently have a permanent scowl and you're wearing scrubs that look like pjs but yes." "No wonder you want to fuck me," I say almost absent mindedly. "Trust me. I don't. Your repulsive personality has been very effective at quelling my desire." He says it so sincerely and bluntly I can't help finding myself hurt by his words. "Oh!" is all I can say. "Now you can go face the big scary bathroom mirror perhaps," he mocks. I do so without a word. Seeing the photo was an effective preparation. The girl I see is the one I'm expecting from the photo. I don't do any stupid gestures to convince myself this is my reflection. I have no doubt it is. I'm, I dunno, 5 foot 7 maybe. About 170cm. the taller side of average I suppose. Slim enough. I'd already inspected my boobs from above, at least fleetingly, and they seemed gigantic. I suspected that may have been from the perspective of someone, who moments prior, didn't have any, as from the front they don't look huge. My hair, still in its pony, is dark blonde. My facial features are delicate, friendly even. That's as far as I get. "Oh shit!" Kevin announces, interrupting my trance. "I forgot how high maintenance women are. I guess getting a wife includes all her paraphernalia." "I don't...." He points at the vanity. "I guess all that appeared when you did." There is a cluttering array of cosmetics and beauty products littering the surrounds of the sink. "All your stuff," he states the obvious. My stuff indeed. Good God. He smirks. "I can also imagine the contents of one of the drawers. But I don't think you're quite ready to deal with that yet." It only takes me a moment to get the gist of his implication. "I'm a nurse moron. I know how the female body works." We both take startled note of what I'd said. I wonder if it was just a slip or a reflection of further changes in me, more than just my appearance and the way the world has known me. I unintentionally give Kevin a look of bewildered uncertainty. He looks sympathetic. "I don't want to alarm you Alex. Maybe more prepare you. After I changed, the first and only thing I noticed was I was now a man. Everything else was the same. The rest came gradually. My insatiable desire for women just grew and grew. The compulsion that sees me fruitlessly trying to 'score' all the time manifest later. I just want you to be aware that more changes may come." "You'd like that wouldn't you?" I express venomously. "For me to turn into your bimbo slut fuck toy." "Alex. I meant what I said. Not if you were the last woman on Earth. You're a pretty contemptible human being and I think I'd get a great deal of joy throwing you out on the street and letting you fend for yourself. But I'm not going to do that." Once again I feel his words sear through me and I silently gasp. "Anyway. I'll let you discover your new body in peace. Goodnight." He walks out of both the en suite and bedroom. Before I can formulate a reply he is gone. I have no desire to analytically appraise my body. Clothed or otherwise. Alone, I feel suddenly tired. I make the assumption the pink toothbrush is mine, but it really is the only bedtime routine I can deal with. I explore the small walk-in robe that seems to be predominantly filled with my stuff. Kevin's is all squashed in a corner. I find my undie drawer and grab a fresh pair and a set of flannelette pajamas that are also clearly mine. I remove my scrubs, bra and briefs as if it's a race, throwing on my pajamas without giving my body any sort of acknowledgement. Then, turning off the en suite lights I purposely void in the dark. My body instinctively knows what to do, although wiping after felt like an exercise in terror. I climb into bed expecting not to sleep. I had underestimated my exhaustion though. I'm unconscious in moments. **** I'm awoken by 'my' phone ringing. It's light outside. I answer before thinking to much about it, noting it's about 7:30 am. "Hello?" It's reflex. "Alex? It's Kristi from the hospital. I'm just ringing to check you're okay." "Wha....." "You were supposed to be on an early today, but you didn't show up and you didn't call in. I was just checking you're okay." Shit. Is that the Kristi? "I....err .... Sorry..... Didn't realize I was on.. I'm still in bed." I'm trying to wake but I'm still a little groggy. "Oh. Okay. Can you still come? We're a bit short. I mean don't rush but if you can get up and make your way here that would be great." "Okay... I guess." "Great. Just find me when you get in. See you soon!" "Bye." I mumble and she's gone. I leap out of bed and go find Kevin asleep on the couch. He hears me coming. "Kevin. That was that Kristi from work. I'm supposed to be there this morning!" "Well you better go!" I'd already reached the same conclusion though. "Okay. I'll just throw my scrubs on." Avoiding a shower seems like a good plan. "Check they don't smell," he adds. I'm incredulous. "Kevin. I know it's my first full day as a woman. But just to remind you. Yesterday I was actually a male human. Not a baboon. And I showered every day. I just don't have time right now and I imagine my first one like this will be a little confronting. I'll just spray myself with one of the many antiperspirant deodorants I now appear to own and I'm sure I won't poison anyone with my noxious gas." Kevin laughs. "So my wife has a sense of humor after all." "Don't." But I grin. "I'm terrified. I'm only doing this because I'm listening to you. I get that I need a job. And I'll play the hand I'm dealt for now. But what if I kill someone?" I repeat the concern I had last night. "You're a nurse. I'm not sure you're in a position of enough authority to be a danger to anyone." I'm not certain if he's serious or just baiting me, but he gets a rise from me anyway. "I'll have you know. One of the major tasks of an emergency nurse is to stop emergency doctors from killing their patients." "What?" What exactly!! I'm left wondering where the hell that came from. I mean it came from me. But it came from a girl who knew the importance and value of her job. I think I am changing. I don't respond to Kevin as I bottle that revelation for later, but instead make demands of him. "How do I get there from here?" "That road you tried so hard to splatter yourself over last night, turn left on it and follow it all the way to Blackbrook. You'll know where to go from there." "Okay!" I would. I knew the area well once I got close enough to the hospital. But I foresaw another problem " Ummmm. Do I have a car?" "How would I know? I would assume so. Are there keys in your handbag?" "Oh right! I'll check." There were. I show him. "Well I suggest, when you're ready. Go outside and press the unlock button, and see what beeps." "Okay." I suppose that could have been exciting. Like a lucky dip. But I was suspicious that I wasn't going to like the prize I got. I hastened myself to get ready. Finding a clean set of scrubs in the robe. Transferring my ID and assorted items to it. "I don't know what time I'll be back," I note as I approach the door ready to leave. "Will you be able to find your way back?" "Of course." I'm annoyed. "It's just - you women and your sense of direction - I don't want you ending up driving to Canberra." "Not funny. But I'll put the address and your number in my phone." "Jesus wife. I think you'll find my number is in your phone." "Oh right!" I say again. I go to 'K' in the contacts. I notice it is light on for numbers in general. And there is only one K. Kristi. I'm assuming it's the same one. My now boss. Significantly, there is no Kevin there. "See!" I show him. "Not so stupid after all." "Hang on a sec." He grabs his phone and searches his contacts. In a moment my phone is ringing. I look at the caller ID. It states boldly. "My Love." I flush red. He sees his contact name and my reaction to it. "Perhaps you are on your way to becoming my loving wife after all." It seems to be only part jest. I cringe. "Okay well text me the address later. I gotta go. Bye." I'm so flustered I just want out of there. "What? No kiss?" "I'm repulsive remember." It's pointed. "Oh right! Bye then. I love you," he says facetiously. "Stop it!" I slam the door for effect. Outside I hold up the key remote and press it, and hear the double beep of a car unlocking. It's a pleasant surprise. A little red late model Mazda 3. Shiny clean. I obviously love this car given it's so well kept. I feel a little excited tingle as I climb in. It's a pretty stereotypical 'girl car' I guess. I am changing. When will it stop and what will I become at the end of it? I realize I don't want to know. I drive towards my hospital for; as far as I'm concerned at least; my first day of work as nurse Alexandra Moore. And hopefully my last. At some point in the day I hope to be able to still some vials of Propofol from the resuscitation area. That's the stuff that killed Michael Jackson. Then I can escape my fate in a peaceful pleasant drift off to sleep. *** Arriving in Blackbrook it was only then I realised I'd have no access to the Doctors car-park. Not anymore. Like most of my fellow nurses I would have to find street parking and walk. Even though, as the name implied, Blackbrook Hospital was a suburban hospital, over a kilometre in any direction was 2hr restricted parking. A money making exercise by the local council meant a different sort of exercise for most hospital staff. Arriving late for my shift meant the closer spots were gone and my walk would be closer to two k. It was cold, but thankfully not raining. It would be a dreary journey on such days, I imagined. I had spent enough time on the wards in my liaison role to know the nursing day shifts ran from 7am to 3:30pm or 1:30pm to 10pm. designated, intuitively, early shift and late shift. What that meant was any night of the week, at around the same time, scores of what were predominantly young women would be wandering the streets, returning to their distant car. Any predator worth his salt would know that. So there were attacks every now and then. A bit more than yearly. Although there hadn't been a death in over 5 years. Shortly after I started at Blackbrook as an intern was the last. I remember it occurring; the nurse raped and murdered in a nearby park, reasonably well. It was described by hospital admin at the time as an unfortunate event. From then on, After each subsequent sexual assault there would be a flurry of outrage and indignation. Things must change, and so forth. But it would die down eventually and nothing ever got done. It's funny how I'd never paid it much heed. It wasn't a relevant concern to me. It would be now if I was forced to live the life of a female nurse. But I was still not planning on doing that. Comparatively, a bit over a year ago now, a thoracic surgeon was murdered in the foyer of my hospital. He told the wrong Ice addict off for smoking inside the building and got bashed to death. All filmed on CCTV too. The public outcry was enormous. Change was instituted. 24 hour security at the entrance. Staff were distressed and vigils held. As one of the psychiatry staff I was recruited for counseling and debriefing. It was a busy time. I hadn't known him before his death, but what I learnt though, by reading between the lines of people, as I was trained to do, was that although everyone was grieving and had kind words, in life he was actually an obnoxious prick. An arrogant arsehole of a surgeon to the highest order. Of course it was never spoken but it was a nearly universal sentiment. It was a horrible thing and the loss of a skilled surgeon; but he was seen as a martyr and all but canonized after he was gone; which was probably not a true reflection of who he was in life. Dr Alexander Turner won't be eulogized though. Even though he too is dead. And what became of him will be dead soon as well. Because he never existed. But if I was to be memorialized, what would people say? Would the undertones be similar? I had no family. My parents dead long ago and no siblings. No girlfriends of significance. Either present or past. And I may not be that popular with my work colleagues given I can be, how do I put this, sometimes brash. Even If I die now, as Alexandra Moore, especially if by my own hand, who apart from Kevin would care? Would he even? I seem destined now to fade from the world completely unnoticed. It was a sobering thought to acknowledge my insignificance, both new found but maybe even pre-existing. And maybe Kevin is right. Maybe I only have myself to blame. Regardless, I wished the hospital valued the lives of their young female nurses as much as they valued the lives of their surgeons. And provided safe secure parking for them. Not just because I was now in that vulnerable demographic. But because it was the right thing to do. I put my coat over my scrubs and trudged the long distance to my hospital. I started ruminating about the absurdity of it all and more than once thought of running back to my car and fleeing. But where would I go? I was a little apprehensive Kevin would throw me out if I wasn't paying my way. He was pretty clear he didn't like me and I was just his charity case. Besides, wasn't I just going to work today to steal the drugs I needed to kill myself? That is still my plan isn't it? I arrived over an hour late and went to find Kristi. Of all the things I had to be fearful of, she was a large part. She held a lot of resentment for me as Alex Turner. Of course she won't know that's who I was, but it seemed she was a rude and contemptible person. And she now had authority over me. I'm sure being extremely late was not going to be conducive at all to our relationship. I found her at the main staff base. "Hi Kristi," I began, braced. "I'm so sorry I'm late." "That's fine." She smiled. "I'm just glad you came." Not quite what I was expecting then. A woman came up behind me, as I spoke to Kristi. I turned to see who it was. It was Dr Meg. Great, all my enemies in one place. "Hi. I'm Meg. You must be new," she began. I guess I must. "This is Alex. She's done a few shifts," Kristi answers for me. "You just mustn't have crossed paths yet. Alex used to be a psych nurse. She's only just come back to mainstream nursing." It was annoying that everyone seemed to know my back story but me. This past experience would be consistent I guess. I could certainly bluff my way as a psych nurse. Maybe my incompetence could now be justified given I've only just started this job. "That's an interesting career change," Meg stated the obvious. "May I ask why?" Why indeed! "Umm.. I just wanted to try something new." "Well I expect you'll find it quite a challenge." There was a degree of condescension. "You're down in cubicles 6 to 12," Kristi indicated, and it was clear I was expected to go. I did. Once there I found the other nurses in my area and followed their lead. New patients would come in, whether by ambulance or walking in. Our job seemed to help get them out of their clothes, into a gown. Take a brief story as to why they were there, do a set of observations, record the vital signs. Then take bloods and give medications as requested by the Doctor. Meantime keeping the patients warm fed and comfortable, and attending any other needs. One thing I didn't particularly savor was getting the patients a bottle or a pan, and then helping them use it. As I was the newest and most junior I seemed to get that task a lot. The pan room smelt of urine, or worse, and loading the pan flusher was no fun at all. I found myself in and out of there all day. There was a door to the pan room, but it wasn't sound proof; which is why I was able to hear a conversation outside, when I was in there yet again, without them being aware of it. "Where on earth do you find them Kristi?" It was Meg's voice. "Honestly Meg, I have so much trouble filling my roster I have to take what I can get." "An ex - psych nurse though. Really? You know she'll be both useless; and nuts!" "Give her a chance. Everyone has to start somewhere." "Well she's not exactly kicking goals if she forgets to turn up." "It was an honest mistake and she came anyway. Many wouldn't have bothered." "We'll see, Kristi. I suspect the time will come when you wished she hadn't." I had a choice then. To march out of the pan room and make it pretty clear I'd heard their conversation, or hide in there till they were gone. I knew what Alex Turner would do. I also knew I was no longer him, and seemingly becoming less like him by the moment, as I chose to silently stand, inhaling urea and methane, till I was sure the corridor was empty. I suspect the further changes in me were why I was so sensitive to their critique. Why did being seen as a good nurse become so important to me? I went back in to see Mr Donald in cubicle 8. Keeping busy seemed a good distractor yet again. He was an elderly gent who lived at home alone, and had come in because a nasty chest infection was making it very hard for him to look after himself. He was waiting to be admitted to the hospital ward. He was a nice old man. I think he was lonely. He wanted to chat. So we did. As I listened to stories of his life it made me think of a young psychiatry resident who loved doing just that. Wasn't it the reason he chose that field in the first place. To help people by listening; and talking. How did that idealistic young man become the cold cynic that had existed till yesterday? It made me wonder, and it also made me think of something that Mr Black had said. Not that it mattered, Mr Black, but no, he wasn't always like that. Mr Donald seemed to be getting worse though. I repeated his vitals. His heart rate and breathing rate were faster, and I had to increase his flow of oxygen to keep his blood oxygen levels at an acceptable point. When I felt I'd re-established his comfort I went to find the resident looking after him. I expressed my concerns. The resident scoffed but came and reviewed Mr Donald from the end of the bed. "He's fine," he told me authoritatively. "It's just that he's needing more oxygen and getting more short of breath. And he says he can't get comfortable." "That's your clinical opinion is it?" he asks, seemingly sincerely. "Yes." "You're new right?" "Yes," I replied, suspecting I wasn't going to like what I hear. "Just do what I tell you and stop having 'opinions' and we'll get along fine." And he leaves me standing there, feeling like a fool. I guess I was overreacting. But I was being a patient advocate. Surely that's what I'm supposed to do. I fussed over him all over again, as he looked so miserable. "Is that better Mr Donald?" "Not really Alex. My chest hurts." "Where?' "Here; across the front." I attached him to a 12 lead monitor and ran off an ECG. It didn't look right to me, but it had been 5 years since I looked at them, and I honestly didn't know if I still had my medical degree in my brain any more. I knew I didn't really seem to have a nursing degree in its stead, because frankly I was floundering. I tentatively approached the resident again. "He has chest pain. I took a twelve lead." And offered it to him. "Literally five minutes after we had a conversation about this!" He's angry with me. "Did I ask you to do an ECG?" "No. But..." He snatches it from my hand. "It's fine," he says after glancing at it. "Now I do have other patients you know. So if you could do your job that would be great." "Okay. I'm sorry." I'm meek. What if he complains to Meg about me? What if I lose my job? What if Kevin throws me out? I scurry back to my area. Mr Donald still looks awful. But I don't want to bring any more attention on myself. I put his oxygen up yet higher. He grasps my wrist. "Help me Alex!" He looks all the more frightened. I don't know what to do. I remember then what I had said to Kevin. A statement that had come from me even though I didn't know how or why. I grab the ECG again and run to Kristi. "Kristi," I interrupt her at the main base. "I'm worried about Mr Donald in cubicle 8." "Well get the resident to review him.' "I did." "And?" "He's not worried." "Well there you go." "But Kristi." I pause till she is forced to look at me. "I still am!" "Why?" I thrust the ECG at her. "I think he's having a heart attack." Kristi looks at it, then at me. She climbs from her chair and heads to cubicle 8. I follow obediently, but hopefully. She looks at Mr Donald and offers some soothing words. "Jenna," she shouts to a passing nurse. "Please tell Meg I'm moving Mr Donald to the Resus area. And can she come and look at him." "Okay." "Help me with the trolley Alex," Kristi instructs me, and she makes haste as we move Mr Donald on his bed. We move Mr Donald to Resus 3, the cubicle I had seen Kevin Moore in the night before. Was that truly only yesterday? No sooner had we arrived when Kristi is shouting at Mr Donald and rubbing him on the chest. "Hit that button Alex!" she yells at me, indicating a big red button on the wall. I do what I'm told and a piercing alarm echoes throughout the hall. In moments, people come from everywhere, including Meg. I slide into the corner as frenetic activity begins. "Mr Donald has arrested!" Kristi announces to everyone and I see her begin CPR on his chest. I have a vague idea of all that's occurring; I just don't know what to do. After a while Kristi spies me virtually cowering in a corner, bewildered. "Alex. Come and take over CPR." It's a task, and I know how to do it. Even in psych we have to pass our yearly BLS assessments. I'm tall enough not to need a stool and I begin compressions as soon as I'm told. Straight after what they called a rhythm check. It brings me into very close proximity to Mr Donald again. He looks terrible. He is blue. Froth and blood come from his mouth. A doctor is trying to put down a breathing tube but appears to be having difficulty. At one point as I'm doing CPR Mr Donald coughs up a large spluttering of blood. I feel it hit my arms and my scrub top. After that I'm alternating with another nurse doing CPR every two minutes. Meg is running the whole situation and I focus hard on doing a good job. Then after a considerable time; Rounds of CPR, the defibrillator whirring to life, then quietening down again, lots of IV drugs being given I hear Meg say, "Does anyone think we shouldn't stop?" Stop? Stop what? I found myself wondering. Stop this? But he's not better! After a brief silence Meg says, "Okay nurse you can stop now." It takes a moment to realize she's talking to me. I gather she can't remember my name from our recent introduction. I stop the compressions, and Meg announces time of death, just like they do on the tele. It's only then I realize. Mr Donald is dead. The man I'd been conversing with and comforting a short while earlier. I was the last human being he ever got to talk to. And his body secretions are all over me. Kristi sees me looking at me arms in recognition of that, and says without affect. "Alex. Go clean yourself up and handover the rest of your patients to the afternoon staff. I'll write the report for this." "Okay!" I say again. It's all I'm capable of. But before I leave I hear Meg say, "What the hell happened to this guy? He must have been deteriorating for a while. Whose patient is he?" "Hers," the resident I had been dealing with says, pointing in my direction. Meg looks at me, then turns to Kristi, thinking I won't know what she's referring to. "See! This is exactly what I was talking about!" Kristi says nothing. Most people aren't looking at me. But those that are seem to be regarding me with contempt. I step away from the body and slide back towards the wall. The resuscitation drug cupboard is wide open and right in front of me. There too sit several vials of the unmistakable white liquid that is Propofol. I glance around. No-one is watching me. I leave the resuscitation area and go find Jenna. I had lost all track of time in the cardiac arrest and it was well past the end of my shift. I tell her about the rest of my patients and she sends me home. "You really need to clean yourself up. You're a mess," Jenna says. She was right. On so many different levels I guess. I put my coat back on and head for my car. Not only do I have to deal with what I had just done; I had killed somebody just as I had feared I would; but I also, in the process of cleaning myself up, will have to face the naked female body that is now mine. I'm not sure I can cope with either of those things. I guess there is still a way I don't have to. TBC Author's note: Not wanting to get a reputation as preachy, but the two assaults described in this story, are real events that happened at my hospital. In my country, as I imagine in the US, Canada and the UK, or anywhere in the world Fictionmania is read, health care workers face daily violence just doing their job. Sure that's not the only job where this is reality, but the gorgeous nurses I work with, who like much of their profession, are amongst the most amazing human beings on the planet, in terms of the care and compassion they give, deserve so much better than to be treated the way they are. Please spare a thought for them.