Wonders Never Cease by Tim Downs Read Free Book Online Page A

‘bispectral index.’ It continually analyzes your electroencephalograms to assess your level of consciousness. See, when you’re awake your cerebral cortex is very active, but that changes under sedation. It all has to do with the metabolic ratio of glucose in the brain. Trust me, it’s very complicated; I won’t bore you with the details.”
    He made a notation in the chart along with the current time.
    â€œWell, yes, now that you mention it, I suppose I do sound awfully intelligent for a nurse. That’s a long story, but I can give you the Reader’s Digest version. See, I was planning to be a doctor—an anesthesiologist in fact. My father is a very successful anesthesiologist, did I mention that? Right here in Beverly Hills—he might have even been the one who put you under when you went in for that chin tuck. I was following in the old man’s footsteps, you see. I aced my MCATs and got accepted to Johns Hopkins no less. I finished med school and started my residency there—that’s right, at Hopkins too. I know, it’s impressive, isn’t it? And I almost finished my residency, but there was this silly disagreement over a minor ethical violation. You know what happened? They kicked me out. That’s right—seven years of medical education, and suddenly they tell me that I’m not going to be an anesthesiologist after all. Seven years of my life down the toilet—I don’t mind telling you, Liv, that hurt.
    â€œSo I moved back to L.A. I know—‘Why L.A.? Why not take a job where no one knows you?’ Simple—I’ve got family here, and I was a little strapped for cash at the time. You’d think Dad would have been glad to have his beloved son home again. I mean, it’s not like he couldn’t afford me—he’s not exactly living on food stamps there in Bel Air. But no, my old man’s got this thing about ‘making it on your own.’ So what was I supposed to do after seven years of medical school, wait tables and detail cars? I don’t think so. So I went down to the local community college and enrolled in a nursing program. I finished in less than a year. All I needed was the clinical nursing courses—‘Bed Pans 101’ and things of that sort—just enough to fulfill the requirements and qualify me to take the boards.
    â€œSo here I am—Kemp McAvoy, MD, RN, arguably the most overqualified nurse in America. I have to tell you, the job is a little demeaning, but it’s as close to medicine as I can get right now—until I figure out something else, that is. And I will too—wait and see. I’ll make it happen right here in L.A., just like I always said I would.
    â€œBut enough about me; let’s talk about you. Your agent says that you’re a washed-up has-been—is that true? Personally, Liv, I have a hard time believing it. I think you’re quite beautiful, even if you have had a little work done. No, I don’t blame you for that—that’s just routine maintenance. It’s a competitive world out there, and a woman has to look her best if she wants to keep a man’s attention.”
    There was a soft knock at the door and a nurse poked her head into the room. “Kemp, I’m taking my break now. Can you keep an eye on 616 for me?”
    â€œI’m just getting a patient settled in,” he said. “Can’t you ask Natalie to do it? She’s probably not doing anything.”
    When the door closed Kemp turned back to his patient again. “See, that’s what I have to put up with all the time. Can you believe it? They expect me to do all the trivial things that ordinary nurses do—but I’m not exactly an ordinary nurse, now am I?”
    He checked her Foley, then drained it and recorded the fluid level.
    â€œMr. Biederman thinks you’re out of my league. What do you think? Personally, I think he’s