Little Girl...

“I believe it’s going to be a long day, little girl,” He said, as they walked to their unit together.

Everyone there who knew her well, called Madchen Little Girl, it was after all the meaning of her German name. Her father had named her, telling her up until the day she died she would always be his “little girl,”

The people at the hospital learned the meaning of her name, and endearingly started to call her that.

Madchen neither loved or hated it, unless she was called that by somebody that gave off a bad aura, and madchen was very good at reading someone’s aura. In fact, she hated her gift, instantly knowing upon meeting someone if they were a good or bad person, happy or sad. To her it was a burden to feel others’ emotions. In some ways, through books, or Youtube tutorials, she had to learn to block it. Yet still it lingered, the omnipresent feeling when someone thick with anger or hatred clouded her own. 

But, she did her best to shield herself, it was all she could manage for now.

 She and Nick divided up their assignment, hers rooms 1-8, his 9-16..They always had each other's backs, working in tandem like a well oiled machine.

Today was going to be busy, with the unit full with patients, ninety percent who were pulmonary pt’s on ventilators. The Intensivists and Pulmonary docs had started their rounds, with the two therapists alongside them. They were already barking out orders, get this pt a blood gas{Arterial blood draw to check how well they were breathing}, change this vent setting, start this one on breathing tx’s, and so on.

Madchen and Nick wrote down everything they needed, and were gathering their supplies to start the day, when two of the pulmonologists approached them. This was a father and son duo, Grigo and Marcu Andrei. 

“Hey guys,” the younger one spoke first,”I heard you are going to be busy today.

“Looks that way,” Nick replied.

“Well,” the father interjected, “we know we are in good hands with you Madchen in here today,”

The elder Andreis Accent, although barely noticeable, came through now and then.Madchen loved how the Romanian R’s rolled off his tongue

Though he was second generation, with his parents immigrating from their motherland years back, he still held onto the remnants of the intriguing accent.