The Imposter Read Free Page B

vouch for you," Angie said as she looked at the poor
battered Asian-American woman.
    "Thank
you, Miss Angie." replied Amy in broken English. 
    "OK,
let's get a stretcher and get Jim into the seclusion room.  I've got to go back
to the office and write up the report for this incident."  Angie got up
and hurried back to the office, carrying the capped syringe with her to deposit
in the sharps container.

Chapter 5
     
    It
was after two am when Angela finally stood in front of the first of two locked
metal exit doors.    This one bore the scars of countless chair and table strikes. 
The institutional grey paint was scratched and the graffiti had not been washed
off for a week.  She fumbled with her keys and finally got the key in the lock
and urged the heavy tumbler to turn.  "Damn," she cursed glancing at
her watch and noting the time.  She wished she had called the child care center
in the main hospital to tell them how late she would be picking up Jessica.   Oh
my God, I am three hours late, she thought.   They're going to kill me over
there.  She felt her pulse race with anxiety as she considered how upset her 16
month-old daughter was going to be when she woke her up to take her home.   
    I've
got to get a new job , she thought.  This psych unit is
killing me.   She closed the door and heard the reassuring click as it
locked.   She walked down the short hallway to the second of the two locked
doors.  This one only bore a couple of scars, but they were deep.  She didn't
remember who it was or when, but one of the patients had followed a staff
member through the first door with a broken off chair leg in hand.  Most of the
blows had landed on the unlucky staff member.  A few had landed on the door. 
The door had survived - the staff member had not.
    I
never get off on time , she thought.  She glanced behind her
just once to make sure nobody was in there with her, then she unlocked the second
door.   Once through that door, there was a long hallway, then an exit door
with a push bar.  The second door closed behind her and she made sure it was
locked before she walked down the long hallway.  Boy, it’s dark out there, she
thought as she peered through the glass windows of the hallway.    Sensing
freedom, she pushed on the bar to open the door to the outside.  The elation
was short-lived. 
    The
heat smacked Angie in the face as she walked into the August night.   The air
was close and heavy.   A crimson-tinged bolt of lightning highlighted the sky
for an instant, then things went dark again.    Thunderstorms , she
thought.   “I've got to get home soon.   Jessica is scared of thunderstorms and
lightning and she will freak out if it happens in the car.”  She walked quickly
through the darkened path towards the parking lot.  She looked around and told
herself she was alone.   It's pretty spooky out here, she thought.   For a
moment, she considered calling security, then she remembered that it would take
at least thirty minutes for the guard to get over to the Pavilion.   Besides,
if he were busy, it could be twice that time.   
    With
the cutbacks heralding the new health care act, there was only one security
guard on the night shift now.   There used to be three or more guards, even on
weekends and now there was only one roaming guard and one - Jason - in the
forensic psych unit where Angie worked.   After all, it is New Orleans and even
post Katrina, the crime rates were startling.   
    Angie
continued the trek to her car,She continued to reflect on the Pavilion as she
walked to her car.   Now psychiatry was a money-loser, a liability to the
bottom line -- and CCMC, a world-class hospital, wasn't about to spend large
sums of money to safeguard patients or staff.   Managed care payment systems
made it almost impossible for you to be crazy, have a breakdown or recover from
prescription or street drug abuse or alcohol.   Reimbursement had all but
disappeared and