Irina Zarishko.
She was a 29-year-old nurse, in her fourth year of work at the Georgia General Hospital. She had been in a relationship with a man two years her senior, whom she had t through an acquaintance two years ago, and they had decided to get married after two years of dating.
Recently, as she was preparing for her marriage, she found herself frequently arguing with her boyfriend, with whom she had never fought before.
Today, after choosing furniture for their new ho, she had an argunt with her boyfriend who seed disinterested, which bothered her. After her night shift, taking the opportunity when other staff mbers had left, she called her boyfriend to make up.
"It's , honey. I'm sorry for getting angry today," she said, resting her chin in her hand and making a large gesture, indicating she thought a proper apology was necessary.
"I got angry without realizing, because it seed like you were bothered by choosing furniture for our ho. I forgot that you've been busy with various things recently, and with work as well," she said as her boyfriend, also troubled by the day's events, offered a loving apology, quickly nding their relationship. They happily chatted for a long ti into the night.
As it got very late, considering her partner had to work the next day, she ended the call. Stretching happily, she smiled; solving this major issue seed to brighten her expression compared to when she ca to work.
Humming, she fetched a cup of coffee and started her work by flipping through the patient files. Suddenly, her expression turned to shock as she glanced at the wall clock.
It was past 1:30 AM. She jumped up.
"Oh my gosh! Look at ! What am I doing!" she exclaid, quickly grabbing a file and running down the hallway, her face turning to panic.
She had forgotten about a cancer patient in the VIP ward who needed pain dication at exactly one o'clock. The patient could be in severe pain if the dication was delayed, hence it was advised to administer it every 11 hours and 30 minutes instead of 12 to prevent any severe pain.
Thinking of the patient, who might be writhing in pain and agony, she broke into a cold sweat as she ran, glancing at the file.
Na: Dariya Miochichi
Age: 87
Diseases: small intestine cancer, kidney cancer, Wilms tumor, tastatic osteosarcoma
Special instructions: Administer pain dication every 12 hours. Administer every 11 hours 30 minutes to prevent severe pain.
Attending doctor’s note: Extra caution needed as the patient is a VIP.
The possibility of being fired just before her wedding, if it beca known she had neglected a VIP patient, piled onto her fears, making Irina run without even breathing.
Despite hospital rules against nurses running, right now, that was the least of Irina’s concerns.
She burst into the VIP ward as if to break down the door.
Inside the quiet, dark, luxurious room with a large, fancy bed visible through a glass partition, she quickly turned on the light and froze seeing Dariya peacefully asleep.
Seeing her sleeping soundly without any signs of discomfort, Irina breathed heavily in relief. However, her relief was short-lived as she frowned looking at the file.
"Seriously, these doctors go crazy over VIP patients! They won’t administer pain shots to other patients no matter how much they plead, but they threaten all this pain if it’s not done early for a VIP," she muttered irritably while administering the pain dication into Dariya’s IV.
After ensuring the dication was mixing properly, she looked down at Dariya’s calm face, only to be puzzled seeing earphones in her ears.
"Listening to music while sleeping? That’s unusual. I thought she was only interested in books," Irina thought, seeing the earphones connected to an MP3 player held tightly in Dariya's hand. Shrugging her shoulders, she mumbled, "Well, as long as it's nothing serious, it’s fine."
She quietly closed the door and checked the charts again to make sure she hadn’t missed other patients.
* * *
One month later.
A eting was held by the doctors at New York Downtown Hospital. It was a monthly occasion where they shared data or discussed unusual patient cases. The doctors, except the one presenting, comfortably held their coffee cups as they settled into their seats in the hospital’s top floor convention hall.
The eting progressed with routine reports prepared on a few PowerPoint slides, and was uneventful until Murphy Troy, the sleepy-looking hospital director, thought, "No unusual cases this month either. Well, that’s how a hospital should be—peaceful without complications. However, it’s a bit disappointing that there are no research achievents; continuous research is what advances modern dicine."
His attention
perked up when Larry, the head of psychiatry, stepped up to the podium with a thick file.
"Good morning, doctors. I’m Larry Wilkins, head of psychiatry," he announced, waiting for the applause to settle before turning on the projector connected to a large TV behind him.
The title on the screen read, "Verification of the Effectiveness of Music Therapy?" sparking murmurs among the doctors.
"Is that even sothing you can verify?" "It’s still a research area, so maybe Larry has made so progress?" "It’s just music therapy. It’s hard to prove its effectiveness."
As the murmurs faded under Larry’s calm gaze, he smiled and began, "Today, I'm here to report on our research findings from the past month. I'd like to start by thanking Kay for helping us present these results."
At the ntion of Kay, Murphy asked in confusion, "Kay? Are you talking about that Kay?"
"Yes, Director. That’s correct."
"Oh, you an he provided the music needed for the therapy?"
"Partially correct. It wasn’t just provided; I had to work hard to obtain it."
"What do you an?"
"Let's start with the first case, and you’ll understand why I had to persist."
Confidently, Larry clicked the projector remote, and the screen changed to display a patient’s photograph and information.
"Na: Elisha Glass. Age: 44. A patient suffering from severe schizophrenia, depression, and insomnia. She has been in psychiatric care for three years with no signs of improvent after surviving a shark attack while fishing with her family."
Larry clicked again, and the screen showed a video of Elisha sitting on the edge of her bed, mimicking fishing movents. She was also seen fishing from a makeshift bed in the hospital and even atop a toilet.
"Ms. Glass was a patient with a severe imbalance in serotonin, norepinephrine, and dopamine, under a heavy burden of high-level drug treatnts. Here are the dications she was taking."
The screen listed her dications: Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRIs), a norepinephrine-dopamine reuptake inhibitor (NDRI), tricyclic antidepressants (TCAs), and monoamine oxidase inhibitors (MAO inhibitors).
As the prescriptions appeared, murmurs resud among the doctors.
"Isn’t that dosage concerning for brain function? Was she really that severe?" "Yes, she was on a level of antidepressants that made everyday life impossible." "Her entire family was killed except her; it’s understandable. So unfortunate."
Larry paused, letting the murmurs die down before continuing.
"Over the past month, we conducted music therapy provided by Kay, playing it three tis a day for one hour each at 10 AM, 4 PM, and 10 PM. Currently, Elisha has stopped taking antidepressants."
Murphy shot up, alard.
"What!!!? You stopped the antidepressants for a patient on such a serious level of dication? Are you trying to kill her?"
Younger doctors, looking concerned, also interjected.
"Indeed, Doctor. Stopping dication for a patient on that level could lead to a life-threatening shock. What was the reason for discontinuing the dication?"
"There must have been so thought behind stopping the antidepressants, maybe switching to other drugs," another suggested.
"Where on earth is there a drug that replaces antidepressants? And stopping them for a patient who hasn’t shown improvent in three years seems like malpractice to !"
As the doctors voiced their concerns, Murphy angrily pointed at Larry.
"Larry, you need to explain this properly."
Larry smiled quietly, clicking the remote once more.
The screen now showed a bright, smiling photo of Elisha.
>
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