#I went to see a doc bc of very bad back pain on Friday

[poetic-emptiness-fanfic]

Ugh, just my luck, I need a surgery...

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Resource Management, pt11

Word Count: 2467 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @anotherotter  @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses @mtriestowrite @wanderingkat77

Saturdays were meant for sleeping in. For recovering from a hangover. For pancakes or bacon and eggs. Saturdays were never intended for a six a.m. run. Regardless, I dragged myself out of bed to my alarm and pulled on my running clothes. Phil rolled over and stretched.

“Where are you going?” He asked through a yawn.

“For a run.” I sat on the edge of the bed and laced my shoes up. He popped up beside me and kissed the nape of my neck.

“Wait five minutes, I’ll come with you,” he offered.

“Can’t. Meeting someone.” I leaned over and kissed him. “I’ll be an hour. Don’t go.”

Phil pulled me back into bed on top of him, and then rolled over and pinned me. He kissed the spot below my ear that he’d discovered made me pretty much do whatever was demanded of me.

“Stay,” he murmured. I groaned and pushed him away.

“I told you last night about the crazy. Lex is the only person I’ve been allowed to choose, Phil. I don’t want to mess it up by ditching her for our first run.” I sat up and finished tying my shoes. I slipped my apartment key into my pocket and headed out to meet the good doctor in the park.

It was a beautiful morning. On any other day, I would have been thrilled to be up in it. But it was Saturday. I sat down on the bench where I’d agreed to meet Lex, and was so happy that I’d told Phil he couldn’t come when she approached. Captain Rogers was with her.

“Good morning, Anna. You look doubtful,” she smiled.

“I forgot that today was Saturday when I agreed to meet you,” I laughed. “Rookie mistake.”

“This is Steve. Steve, this is Anna. She’s in HR.” Lex squinted in thought. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

I nodded as Steve shook my hand. He was super fine. Everything was big and muscle-y and strong. I felt a little tongue-tied.

“A pleasure, Anna. I’ve heard of you. Director Fury was very impressed with the information you had on the attack.”

“Oh, uh. Yeah. Thanks,” I stumbled.

“Okay, Steve, you promised you would go on your own run. She doesn’t need Captain fucking America looming over her shoulder while she’s running intervals.” Lex smacked his butt and sent him off. I couldn’t help but giggle. I liked her. She was irreverent.

“That would have been super uncomfortable. Thanks. It’s bad enough I have been assigned Barton and Romanoff for part of my training,” I thanked her.

“Training?” Lex looked up from tying her shoe.

“Because of the nature of the attack, as director of HR, Fury has decided that I need to have full operations agent competencies,” I explained.

“Say nothing else. I totally understand. But Tasha and Clint are cool. They’re very competitive with one another and like to play tricks. It can be very fun to be in on the game. And Tasha whipped me into shape really quickly with my hand-to-hand. She’s incredible. I sucked. Now I can take Steve down, if I take him by surprise,” she reassured me. “Well, sort of. There’s more than Romanoff’s training at play these days.”

She looked a little haunted, but I didn’t think we knew each other well enough for me to press. She ran me through some pre-run stretching, and explained the mechanics of the stretches, and which muscle groups would be helped by what exercises. Then promptly told me that she would go over it again when we finished running. She started us at a pace that was slower than I usually ran. When I commented, she explained that running slower, as long as it was comfortable, would help my endurance more than running faster would. About midway through the run, she told me I needed to keep up. Until then, I had been keeping up, so I was confused, until she sprinted away from me. I ran as fast as I could to catch up. A few seconds after, she slowed down, barely winded. I was gasping for air. We returned to the slow pace again, and again, she warned me to keep up and then sprinted away from me. She did that to me around ten times, and then slowed us down to a brisk walk for the last five minutes.

“What was with the sprinting?” I asked when I caught my breath.

“High intensity intervals help improve your cardio endurance, and strengthens you faster,” she explained. “If you need to be field capable, we need to whip you into shape quick. What’s your sport?”

“I’ve studied a number of martial arts disciplines,” I answered, still feeling my heart pound in my chest.

“Cool. Mine has always been running. And Archery. And I played a little hockey when I was a kid, but who doesn’t?” I knew it was a rhetorical question, but I smiled nonetheless.

“Hockey was never my sport. I mean, shinny, sure. Street hockey every summer until the sun went down. But I lived in hockeyville, and just got oversaturated, I guess.”

Lex shot me a look of confusion and then shrugged it off as we approached the bench we’d started from. She ran me through the stretches again, and when we were done, I sat down on the bench, exhausted.

“So how about we meet Monday, Wednesday and Fridays at this time. We’ll alternate weekend days from week to week, but we’ll do an evening run on those days. That leaves you Tuesday and Thursdays for something else. Weights maybe.” Lex flopped down next to me. She had a strange scar on her inner arm that I hadn’t noticed before.

“That looks like it was painful,” I commented.

“It sucked, not gonna lie,” she agreed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I shrugged.

“You’re obviously from home. Where?” She asked.

“BC. You?”

“Calgary,” she replied. “There’s Steve.”

I looked up, and Steve was headed toward us. He looked like he was forcing himself to run at a normal pace. Which he probably was. He probably could run as fast as a car if the opportunity presented itself.

“You gals done?” He asked. I nodded. My shirt had a boob-sweat stain on it. He smiled like he hadn’t noticed. He might not have. Lex was pretty stunning, and she wasn’t a sweaty disgusting mess like I was.

“Got another five in you, babe?” Lex asked him. “See you Monday, Anna?”

“You bet. Thanks, Lex.” I headed back toward my apartment, turning once to watch Lex and Steve disappearing down the same path I’d just run, but at a much swifter pace.

My apartment smelled like bacon when I got back. I peered into the kitchen and saw Phil dropping slices onto a piece of paper towel. I groaned. I was not going to be virtuous and eat something healthy, I was totally going to eat the bacon. And after that super hard run, I almost wanted to be virtuous.

“Stop glaring at me. It’s the weekend. You’re allowed bacon on the weekend.” Phil didn’t even look up from the pan.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I grumbled, my mouth watering. I leaned into the kitchen and stole a piece of bacon from the paper towel before heading to the bathroom.

“How do you like your eggs?” He called.

“Over-easy. Unfertilized,” I replied, and shut the bathroom door. I could hear him laughing as I turned the water on.

“So, how was the run?” Phil handed me a plate as I sat down at the table.

“I met your boyfriend,” I teased. “So good thing I didn’t let you tag along.”

“Captain Rogers is your running buddy?” Phil looked confused.

“No. His girlfriend is.” I dipped my toast in my egg yolk. They were perfectly cooked. Phil ate without saying anything. He slipped his hand onto mine on the table as we sat, finishing our coffee. A sharp knock on my door startled us both. He tilted his head in question.

“Expecting anyone?” He asked. I shook my head. His hand slid to his hip. I hadn’t realized he was wearing his sidearm. I gave him a dirty look.

“Because you needed to wear that in my kitchen?” I asked.

“You won’t be criticizing me if the person at the door is unfriendly,” he shot back in a low tone. I rolled my eyes and went to the door, opening it as far as the security chain would allow. There was a guy standing there, with his back to me, in a SHIELD uniform. I cleared my throat and he spun around. My shoulders dropped once I recognized him.

“Anna Ellis?” He asked. I nodded. “Clint Barton. I’m your new range coach. Fury said I should stop by this morning and get you out on the range on account of you sucking.”

“Agent Barton. Nice to meet you,” I said, loudly enough that I knew Phil would hear. From the corner of my eye, I could see Phil dashing toward my bedroom, carrying his dirty plate and coffee cup. I closed the door and unlatched the chain slowly, waiting to hear the click of my bedroom door closing before I opened the front door again. I gestured to Barton to come inside, and he stepped through the door cautiously, his eyes seeking out all the possible exit points, and hiding spots for bad guys. I held my breath when his eyes lit on my bedroom door, but he just stepped past me into the kitchen.

“Can I get you a coffee?” I offered.

“Sure. We should probably have a conversation before we leave for the range.” He sat down in Phil’s chair. I poured a coffee and handed it to him, pointing at the cream and sugar on the table as I cleared my breakfast dishes away.

“Do you mind if I wash up while we chat?” I asked. He shook his head.

“What’s your experience?” He asked.

“My week at the academy two weeks ago,” I responded, scrubbing up the frying pan.

“And before that?”

“No weapons experience at all,” I replied.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He exclaimed. “So you’re completely green?”

“I’ve had a really good instructor,” I shot back, defending Phil.

“And who was that? I tried to pull your training docs but there’s a bunch of info redacted or missing.” He asked.

“Melinda May, mostly,” I lied.

“Anyone else? She was listed in there, but there was some redacted information too.”

“Nope. Just May,” I affirmed, feeling nervous. I finished washing up.

“Where’s your sidearm. Let’s get it and go over it.” He stood.

“I’ll grab it. It’s in my bedroom.” I held a hand up.

“I’m here to train you, Ellis, not seduce you.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “I can come to your bedroom without it being a problem.”

“Regardless, Agent Barton, my mother raised me to not entertain men in my bedroom, so if it’s all the same to you, wait here please,” I shot back. “For the record, you’re not my type.”

“Yeah, I heard you like older guys.” He was snarky. As a general rule, I liked snarky. I wasn’t sure about this snarky though. “Stark seems to think –“

“Stark?” I laughed. “Also not my type.”

I headed toward my bedroom quickly.

“Yeah, I was going to say. Stark seems to think you’ve got it bad for Thor,” he laughed. I stopped partway down the hall and turned around.

“That is a silly workplace crush. And means nothing.” I could feel my cheeks flushing. Barton smirked, revealing a deep dimple. Damn. Were all the Avengers pretty? I turned away and stomped into my bedroom. Phil was smirking from the bed and shaking his head. My gun case was sitting beside him. He stole a quick kiss as I leaned over to grab the case.

“He’s not wrong. You do like older men,” he whispered. I rolled my eyes.

“I like you, Phil. That doesn’t mean I’d like another guy your age just because he was your age,” I whispered back. “Will you be back tonight?”

“Should be. Text me when you’re free.” He pulled me close for a quick kiss. I picked up the gun case and headed back to the kitchen.

“So show me what you know about this sidearm, Ellis,” Barton demanded. I opened the case, and pulled it out, and went through all the parts, how to load it, how to unload it, the safety, the sights. I pointed to the holster.

“And that’s my shoulder holster. I’ve been informed by Agent May that it’s not available in pink,” I finished. Barton looked me in the eye, then smirked again.

“It’s a start. Put it on, grab your ammo. Let’s go.” He rose and put his coffee cup in the sink while I slid the shoulder holster on. I pulled on a light jacket and grabbed my purse before following him out the door.

“I’ll be right back. I forgot my phone.” I turned around and dashed down to my bedroom to grab my phone. I pulled my spare key off the key ring and handed it to Phil, kissing him goodbye one more time. Barton was waiting in the hall for me as I locked up.

“You know, you could have just said your boyfriend was over,” he commented. My heart nearly stopped.

“What are you talking about?” I followed him down the stairs.

“You wouldn’t let me into your bedroom out of some misguided notion of propriety, you conveniently forgot your phone, and you just came out with half a keychain less than you went back inside with,” he said. “Not to mention the chair I sat in was warm, but your dishes were in front of your chair, your mouth is bruised like you’ve been getting rowdy, and his shoes were at the front door. It’s okay to have a social life. I just don’t get why you would need to hide it.”

“Office romance. Against protocol.” My response was probably too quick.

“No, relationships between you and your S.O. are against protocols. You can bounce anyone you want who has a badge as long as they aren’t your supervising officer. And despite your thing for old guys, I doubt Fury is hiding in your bedroom,” he corrected.

“What?”

“Well, Fury is your S.O., isn’t he?” He asked.

“Yes.” I felt a shudder of revulsion as I realized what he was getting at.

“My point is, I don’t care who you’re fucking, Ellis. As long as it doesn’t compromise your ability to be available for training.” Barton’s tone was final. I didn’t respond, but just got into the SHIELD vehicle and put my seatbelt on.

[thenightisland]

you know the drill:

this is becoming like its own series but idk how else to explain this awful year i don’t even feeling like properly linking so here’s just the URLs of the other ones in the series: 1. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161087786689/explanationsupdates-under-the-cutmore-i 2. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161920216354/additional-updatesexplanations-under-the-cut 3. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/163767959805/updates-under-the-cutmore-post-one-post-two-on 4. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/164398486219/on-the-fourth-edition-of-what-the-fuck-is

one of the assessors got jumped a while back. she was just walking past a pt in the main assessment dept and he jumped up, punched her in the back of the head, took her to the ground and beat the fuck out of her. she was out for weeks and weeks and had broken facial bones. i can’t believe she didn’t quit.

our nurse executive quit though. not like, went prn or gave two weeks notice, like just straight up was like I’M DONE and walked out which honestly is the closest i’ve ever come to respecting him.

while having more psychologically unstable pts isn’t new, having more medically unstable pts has been a problem lately. like our crash cart is not like a medical hospital’s crash cart it’s like. an ambu bag some iv supplies and a stethoscope no lifesaving medications. when a pt has a medical issue we send them out to a medical hospital because obv we don’t have the resources to treat complex medical issues where we work. which didn’t used to be an issue because you’d used to see maybe two medical codes a year on my unit. we’ve had /ten/ since my last update post /just on my shift/. two of which weren’t even “pt is going downhill fast” codes they were “pt has no heartbeat and isn’t breathing” like we had to fucking bring two people back from the goddamn dead /within ten minutes of each other/. we’re all like we’re psych nurses man if we wanted to do this shit we’d work er. [and the er we’re required to send these pts to is awful like they sent us back a guy who had almost died twice in three days who had an /untreated brain tumor/ bc obv he’s totally fine]. or we’ve been doing mash unit style medicine like the suicidal kid with partial thickness burns all over his chest and neck that literally no one was doing anything about. we were debriding burns with a mixture of different PO IM and SQ drugs to achieve the same effect as IV morphine because debriding is extremely painful but not doing it will just make things worse and no one else seemed to care so we just fucking did it. like we’ve done so much medical nursing lately. like the one with the uncontrolled severe seizures that led to the medical hospital labeling her first break schizophrenia despite no family history of mental illness but /five different medical issues that all cause psychosis/. or the one they let on the unit despite being on the do not readmit who has untreated hiv that he actively tries to give to other people and /active tuberculosis/. or the one with the aneurysm. or the one with severe CHF. and on and on and on. and remember: we’re not the most medically unstable unit in the hospital because we have a 40 bed /geriatric psych unit/ so you can imagine the kind of pts /they’re/ getting. on the plus side, all of our ten odd codes lived.

my personal life is still a goddamn mess, of course, but that’s a given. don’t even know where to begin with all that. and i can’t talk about a lot of it which makes it that much more fun.

i had an entire crisis about the odyssey [which tbh is still kind of going on even after /weeks/] because i’m getting so cagey in memphis because i fucking hate this town. and i just got back from new orleans which is the closest thing i have to an ithaca at the moment and it killed me to come back to this fucking city.

i’m also really paranoid right now because after i come back from vacations, something terrible always happens and i’m not exaggerating it’s like clockwork to the point that the bad things have all happened between friday and sunday after i’ve returned from my vacation, each time, without fail. well that would be this weekend so i am just waiting to see what great horrors await me this goddamn time. [last time, it was the whole coworker killed in vehicular homicide thing]. but i guess paranoia isn’t the right word. you’re only paranoid if you’re wrong, and my life has already set the precedent. so i guess anxious is the better word.

the anxiety is increased given that my mother has been out of work all week because they’ve had trouble regulating her blood sugar and so she’s been really sick and even said so herself she’ll probably end up in the er over the weekend because she doesn’t think she can make it till her next doc appt because she’s miserable, and she’s already been in the er once when this weird shit started happening a month or so ago so the Vacation Curse has me even more concerned than usual, which is saying something. 

there’s a new psych doc working now and everyone is really unsettled by him and we’re pretty sure he’s a genuine psychopath like completely without exaggeration and he’s already done a lot of really creepy things to/with staff members and one nurse said in passing “i’ve known a lot of doctors like him he’ll end up fucking a pt at some point” which we initially left to hyperbole but he’s been doing shit like transporting female pts to other units without the staff’s consent in his own car which is like all kinds of not allowed, and the way he talks to some of the staff is just downright rapey honestly. and so we had a rough case this summer who, through the combined efforts of my squad, we got her from a diagnosis of intellectual disability with schizophrenia, nonverbal, self harming all the time, history of physical and sexual abuse, constantly in restraints and on a 1:1 obs level to a new diagnosis of autism spec with ptsd because her “hallucinations” were /flashbacks/ and she ended up very social and verbose and like fucking read william blake for fun and had a great sense of humor and was off all special observations and had a transfer to another facility pending so she could get more 1:1 long term therapy, and the creepy doctor was covering her case while her actual doc was out of town and he rode all the way to the other hospital with her which is another thing you do not do, and we found out from a coworker that she is now a /2:1/ [two staff members within arm’s reach 24/7], self harming again, in full shutdown/meltdown mode, and nonverbal. and it was such a rapid deterioration that all of us lost sleep over the possibility that this creepy doctor might have done something because even after she was at the other hospital and therefore no longer our pt, /he kept going to see her/. which fucked us up a lot because we were the ones who worked so hard for so long with her. like even the thought of it.

recently had 25th birthday so naturally had a crisis about that because i’d always said my goal was to be out of memphis by 25 and yet here we are. 

another of our fave pts, esp one of /my/ fave pts, died out of literally nowhere. the day before my birthday. so that was great.

also felt really surreal to see the news about the convictions in the holly bobo case, which i found out about when one of my coworkers was reading the news on his phone during a lull one night i forgot that to him and everyone else it’s a national news story [hell it even has its own wikpedia page] but to me it’s just /holly/ because she was /in the class above me in our nursing program/. my first semester in college i remember seeing her face on missing posters on every building on campus. so it was really a weird moment of dissociation for me. glad the motherfucker was found guilty on all charges, obv. 

the tech of mine who got his skull slammed into the floor, the one who’s been out with what can only be called severe psychological trauma, is supposed to be coming back the third week in october. which i just. i mean i’m glad because he’s one of our best guys, but i’m also like /why the fuck would he come back/ because he could be a fucking english professor again. motherfucker spent part of his youth growing up in italy and montreal, lived on the west coast for years, /was/ a college professor, did time as a script doctor in LA, and was a fucking thriller novelist who just gone girled himself for whatever reason and ended up working with us. there’s literally a reddit thread asking if anyone knows what happened to him and i want to be like don’t worry it’s fine he works with me. but so we’re like why would you come back to this place after what happened to you when you have so many other options available to you????? what are you running from that makes you so desperate to keep centering your life around a locked acute psych ward???? why did you gone girl yourself to begin with??? like he was screwed up enough there for a while that he wasn’t even answering his calls or texts and our boss had to send the police to do welfare checks on him because he lives alone so it’s like man why not go back to the life you had before and /get away from all of this/ it’s not like my situation where i’d rather be living a different life but have never done so, he already has the foundation because he’s already lived a different life he has an in that i don’t have and i can’t for the life of me figure out why he thinks working as an acute pysch tech is the better option. 

but i mean. we /do/ call our unit the hotel california for a reason.