Jaime

I arrive a little earlier than usual today, but unlike most mornings, Natalie isn’t ready for handover. She’s rushing around, trying to finish up and hand out the last of her meds before leaving. I sit quietly in the med room, waiting.

A few minutes later, she hurries in.

“Frances passed. Brian fell and fractured,” she blurts out, barely looking at me as she rushes to the sink.

A rush of adrenaline hits me. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.

“Brian fell and fractured?” I repeat, suppressing a smile. Renee’s definitely going to have something to say about this. It might be wrong to feel okay about someone getting hurt, but what it means for Natalie makes me feel oddly at ease. “Is he in the hospital?”

She grabs a couple of tissues with a crisp snap, dries her hands, and says, “He is.”

“You mentioned someone passed away?” I steer the conversation back.

“Frances,” she says, still distracted.

“What?” I squeak. “Frances passed away?”

She barely glances at me. “Yes.”

“Our Frances?” I ask again, as if to be sure.

She cuts in, irritated. “No, Frances from across the street.”

“What happened?”

She finally turns toward me, hands on hips. “When Trey and Ashley checked in on her during rounds, she had already passed.”

“What time?”

“Two.”

“No way,” I mutter, trying to process it. “She seemed fine yesterday. Ate all her dinner. How could this–?”

“I don’t know,” she interrupts flatly. “I suppose it was her time.”

“Did they take her to the funeral home yet?”

“Not yet. Jack wants to wait until he gets here. Should be soon,” she says, handing me the key and heading to the med cart.

She flips open the narcotic book, a quiet signal that it’s time for the count, but I’m in no hurry. Right now, I’m more in an investigative mood. So far, Natalie seems composed. No clear mistakes. But last night was chaotic, with a fall, a fracture, and a death. In situations like that, things can slip through the cracks. This is when errors tend to happen.

I quickly think through the steps she should’ve taken when the death occurred and ask, “Did you call the coroner?”

“No. Why would I call the coroner?” she snaps, defensive now.

“Because it was an unexpected death.”

She hesitates, meets my eyes for a brief second, then looks away. “Last time I called, when Martha passed, they told me that sudden deaths aren’t unusual in a nursing home. Frances was 82, after all.”

“True, she was 82. She was in a wheelchair, barely spoke,” I say, nodding. “But she wasn’t sick or anything. She still had time. I think you should’ve reported it.”

“Tracey was the on-call manager, and I called her. I also notified Gerald and Dr. Benjamin. They were all fine with it.”

“Oh… okay,” I say slowly. “But 82 isn’t that old,” I stress.

She shrugs. “Her family had no issue. So, you shouldn’t either.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to Gerald, see what I should do,” I say casually, letting her know I’m not dropping it.

“Whatever… Can you count? I still have stuff to finish.”

I finish the count quickly and turn back to my tasks, feeling a surge of energy and new confidence. Two major incidents in one night. That’s more than enough to put the spotlight on Natalie and take the heat off me. Natalie’s biggest mistake was not calling the coroner. The second was Brian’s fall. A fracture always draws attention. An investigation is inevitable. Renee will certainly call me today, and when she does, I need to be ready to fan the flames.

At 8.30, right on cue, Renee calls while I’m passing meds in the dining room.

“Brian fractured his hip. They’ve already done the surgery,” she says, clearly upset.

“I’m so sorry. I hope he recovers quickly,” I say, lacing my voice with the right mix of concern and sympathy.

“I spoke to Natalie last night. I’m not sure if she told you.”

“She didn’t,” I reply. “She was swamped. Left a pile of stuff for me to deal with.” I pause, realizing I’m venting. Professionally, probably not the smartest move, but I don’t regret it.

“She’s such a lazy one. When she told me about Brian, I was really frustrated. His falls only happen at night.”

A twinge of satisfaction creeps in as I add, “Always with the same team on shift.”

“Exactly. She even cut me off during our call. I called the ministry this morning. I’m not letting this one slide.”

“Wow, that’s rude. Good for you for reporting it. Someone needs to step in,” I say as a PSW comes over to tell me Jack has arrived.

“I’ve got to go. Jack’s here to see me. I’ll call you back,” I say, meaning it.

“I’ll fill you in more then,” she says, adding, “Give Jack my condolences.”

I hang up and make my way to Room 1.