by Jo Owens
We’ll have to talk to OT about it.
Yeah, please do. I think we’re okay for today because she’s still pretty sedated, but as soon as she gets restless again, I’m going to need to know how you want me to handle her.
There’s a lady on third with a doctor’s order for a seatbelt restraint.
So it can be done.
We’ll see, says the nurse on her way out the door.
* * *
Crap, what’s happening in this room!
Michiko emerges from behind Mary’s curtain with the wash basin in her hands.
Alice has a cast, Ruby’s got a raging UTI, Nana’s got a bedsore and Mary can’t eat or shit. There’s some evil-ass spirit operating here!
We need some of your Wiccan magic, Michi. We gotta protect Frannie—she’s the only one unscathed!
The tube-feed, little as it was, isn’t agreeing with me at all. I shift awkwardly and, to my embarrassment, let out a tremendous burp.
Molly and Michiko laugh outrageously.
“Tell it like it is, Frannie!” howls Michiko.
“Oh my goodness, Fran. Don’t look so horrified! It’s a good thing. Don’t you feel lighter? Better out than in.”
“Frannie doesn’t need my Wiccan magic…she ate those bad spirits, and they gave her gas.”
“Yeah, Frannie, did you swallow the suffering? Because that was a mighty wind you let out.”
“Quick! Chase it away.”
Michi grabs a towel and flaps it into a breeze—Molly quickly follows suit. They’re flapping and laughing when the housekeeper walks in.
What are you doing?
We need a change of air in here!
The housekeeper marches over to the tower fan tucked away at the head of Alice’s bed and turns it on.
It’s working. Didn’t you try it?
The housekeeper looks at Michi and Molly as though they’re a couple of lunatics on a binge. She shrugs.
Michiko is still giggling. Molly says, We never thought of that.
She looks at Michiko and they both burst into laughter again.
They’re pretty loud. I take the opportunity to fart as quietly as I can.
* * *
Chris gets Astro certified as a companion dog so he can bring him in anytime. Anna, it’s amazing how much conversation a dog generates. Chris is a proud parent; he shares every detail about Astro’s progress at obedience classes. He’s a clever pup, you can tell that right away.
Listen to me! Who’d have thought I’d be acting like a grandma to a dog.
I watch Astro, not paying attention to what Chris is saying until a few words draw my attention.
“That’s what my counsellor told me.”
Chris in counselling? Well, wonders never cease. Every part of me that can flaps wildly, and I have a huge grin on my face.
Chris returns my smile.
“Got your attention, didn’t I? Yeah. That’s right. Me, Christian Henry Jensen in counselling. Kind of a surprise, isn’t it, after refusing so stubbornly when you wanted me to go.” Chris playfully almost punches my arm; it’s just a tap but I’m astounded. Chris, goofing off!
“Yeah, actually I started going long before all this happened.” He must be catching my penchant for gesturing, because the swoop of his hand seems to encompass it all.
“A friend at work got me into it. She’s got a couple of kids and Theresa and I were, you know…hoping that was going to happen for us. I realized I was looking forward to that baby more than I ever imagined I would. So I asked her, ‘Do you have any advice for a prospective parent?’ She said, ‘Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. Buddy, you should make a point of knowing yourself, so that you can learn to love yourself. You’ll never be able to love anyone more than you love yourself, and you’re going to find you want to love that baby real good.’
“You know how sometimes something just hits you? I said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ My friend looked me in the eye and said, ‘Bud, you’re so numb you don’t know your ass from your elbow.’ I was so shocked, I just let her keep talking. She said I’d never dealt with what happened to Angelina. Which was true, I’d never talked about her. Then she goes, ‘If you ever need the name of a good counsellor, you just let me know.’ She acted like she’d been dying for the opportunity to give me her piece for a long time.
“So I thought that over for a couple of days, and then I chased her down and got that name. I was thinking what with Theresa acting so hormonal from the fertility drugs, and Anna dying, never mind work and learning all that stuff about running the diner, I had a lot coming down the pipe. My God, that would have been enough on its own but as it turned out, um…with your stroke…Well. I had no idea how big a shit show I was in for, did I? I still wonder if it was an act of God that got me hooked up with my counsellor before all this happened. It’s been bad enough, but without her help, honestly, Mom, I think I would have drowned.”
I shiver before putting my hand on my heart and I close my eyes for a moment.
“I know, Mom. You want me to be okay. I’m okay. That’s why I’m telling you.”
I want to grab that counsellor by the shoulders and kiss both her cheeks.
* * *
Grief is a peppercorn: it flavours the stew, but right to the bottom of the pot, there’s always the possibility of biting down on the real thing and then it hurts.
About five years ago, I went to the lab for some blood work that my doctor ordered, and there, looking poised and professional in her scrubs, was Angelina’s best friend, Raven.
I felt broken, as if seeing her there reopened a jagged, gaping wound. That girl was every bit as wild and saucy as Angelina was back in the day. I know my feelings were unreasonable, but I begrudged Raven the success she’d made of herself, hated her for showing me what my girl might have been.
Raven recognized me right away; she went pink, and her lips were tight. She didn’t say anything about Angelina, though, while she kept her eyes on the vial that was filling with my blood. I can’t blame her—I have been rude to her many times, over the years. I recall that I didn’t hold back when she and Ang took their fake ID and got matching tattoos done just before Ang moved out. I’d believed that Raven got Ang into trouble, when if I’d been honest with myself, I knew very well that those two were pretty equally to blame.
Thinking about it put me in a temper all over again.
“Do you still have your tattoo?” I asked roughly.
The colour in Raven’s cheeks deepened. She capped off the vial, peeled back her gloves, and lifted the sleeve of her scrub top to reveal her upper arm.
There was the butterfly, turquoise, green, sky blue covering the whole left shoulder like a cap sleeve, just like Angelina’s. My eyes filled with tears, and I regretted my unkindness.
“You never heard from her?” I said, unevenly.
“Don’t you think I would have told you, Mrs. Jensen? Chris asked me many times. I miss her too, you know.”
* * *
Fall is slipping away into winter.
I haven’t been feeling well, Anna. It’s hard to take an interest. I’ve folded into my body, huddled, cocooned, protecting a glowing coal, waiting.
I’m waiting to feel better. Waiting like a sick cat, quiet, hidden.
I sleep a lot.
Is this how you felt, Anna? How did you feel?
I wish I could ask you, now that I’m weakened. If this is what you felt like, I wish I had known.
It’s hard to imagine until it happens to you.
On the other hand, the antibiotics are working for Ruby. It was unnerving when she was loopy. I missed my thoughtful, loving friend. She seems to be back to normal now, for which I am very grateful.
* * *
The sky isn’t even grey yet when Molly comes spinning into the room, extra wire
d, flipping on the lights, announcing, “We’re short today, folks! Happy flu season!” She whirls from bed to bed rolling everyone up for breakfast.
Somehow I’ve managed to slide so far down my bed that I’m almost past the rails. “How’d you get way down there?” Molly asks, without expecting an answer. She raises the foot of the bed and lowers the head and, reaching over the headboard, grabs the slider from below my shoulders with both hands.
“Bend your knees,” she orders, “one, two, three,” and as I slide up the bed, I see Molly’s face contort with surprise and pain.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” she mutters under her breath, turning away. That’s the last I see of Molly.
Breakfast is late, and when it does come, it’s brought by Janika, a casual.
“Thanks for coming in,” says the RN, hooking up my tube-feed.
“If I know I will be alone, I do not come! I do overtime today.”
“Blaire said she’s coming down to give you a hand,” the RN is saying, as Blaire walks through the door.
As soon as the RN is gone, the girls start to chatter.
And Molly? She is not sick, is she?
Molly, no. She pulled her shoulder bringing Frannie up the bed.
Did she by herself?
Blaire nods and Janika clucks with disapproval.
She will not be covered. If there is no one to help her, she must be waiting.
But we’ve all done it, how many times?
No. I will not do it. I saw with Jeet. They do not help her, what you call, workman’s comp? They do not help her.
Molly thinks she’s invincible.
What is this?
Molly thinks she can do anything.
Hmph! No one can. So who should to be here? It is Lily?
No, Mich has the flu. So you must be Mich, right? When did they call you?
I am called at seven thirty and say they are desperate.
Yeah, so you’re Mich. They told us at report that nights hadn’t been able to cover that shift and Molly would be short. Now they’ll have to find someone to cover Molly.
It is unacceptable! They should do something! I am not liking working alone!
I know.
The carcass of a cold, dead seal is turning over in my stomach. Oh, Molly. Please let her be okay.
* * *
Amit comes in for a day, and Michiko is back, sniffling and grumpy.
Are you well enough to be here, Michi?
I’m okay. It’s just…hard to go from zero to sixty. It’s not like we can say, “Oh sorry, folks, I’m feeling a bit off today, so I’m going to take it easy, I’m not going to wash you.” We kind of have to be up for the marathon.
But you don’t like to call in unless you’re dying.
Basically, yeah.
You and Molly. What a team. Two words for you guys. Self. Care.
Oh hush. My head aches.
So your partner nailed herself?
I texted her last night and she says she thinks she just gave the shoulder a little pull. So she’s doing the ice and ibuprofen cure.
Same shoulder she injured on Joyce a couple of years ago?
Yeah, that’s why she wasn’t taking any chances when it happened. She just bailed right out. She was off quite a while with that injury.
She told me she went hardcore with the weights after that happened.
Oh for sure. Molly’s a serious gym rat; she’s super fit. But she knows she’s not twenty, and that shoulder is vulnerable. She also knows she’s not supposed to be lifting people up the bed by herself too, and she did it anyway.
I happen to know she has about a million sick hours.
Exactly. I told her she can stop being so freaking dedicated. Or rather, be more dedicated, and take care of herself so she can continue to serve us all like a slave. Either way.
Amit laughs.
D’you think she listened?
Who, Molly? Nah!
Amit laughs again.
That’s our girl!
Well, she’s off today, and that’s good. Then she’s got days off, so that’s good too. Lily dropped by her place with a couple of magazines and a jar of chicken soup. She told Molly’s husband not to let her move.
Oh yeah? What did he say?
He said, “You try and stop her!”
Oh, perfect! Thank God she’s not my resident!
Amen!
* * *
When Molly comes back after her regular days off, Michiko and Blaire tease her.
You sure you’re good to go?
She’s too much of a supernurse to be subdued by a minor injury!
Oh sure. Supernurse. That’s just another way of saying control freak, says Molly.
Oh yeah. You’re that too.
Molly tosses her head.
All nurses are bossy and controlling. It’s a prereq for the job.
But you’re over the top.
That’s Blaire.
A shadow of uncertainty passes over Molly’s face.
Indomitable Molly? I didn’t know she had an Achilles heel.
Hey! Quit picking on my partner, slacker! chides Michiko cheerfully. We’re just glad you’re back.
She hugs Molly with one arm.
Nobody feeds me when you’re gone.
The girls laugh together.
* * *
Hey! I’m feeling better again. I’ve been feeling better for a while and I didn’t even notice the change.
Unbelievable that I could take feeling well for granted again so quickly.
The next time Molly reaches to bring me up the bed by herself, I slap at her wildly and shake my finger.
“You’re right,” she says. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”
Lily helps her slide me up the bed.
* * *
You should have been here in the bad old days, before we had electric beds and ceiling lifts.
I can’t imagine.
It was a self-perpetuating job…We screwed up our backs and got ready to be the next residents!
Things have really changed.
Mostly for the better. Remember when they used to feed people with syringes even if they didn’t want to eat?
Oh my God! Did you do that?
No, that was before my time, but the old nurses used to talk about it.
Those head nurses, man, were they strict!
Remember Mrs. Smith?
Oh, I do! Wasn’t she a stickler for the army-style bed. She wanted us to be able to bounce a penny off it.
I do like a tidy bed, me.
Sure enough, when they’re empty, but Mrs. Smith wanted the beds like that even when the patients were in them. A body likes to be able to wiggle the toes.
Mrs. Smith’s beds were like a straitjacket.
Painful.
And a wash from her was as good as electroshock.
The RNs actually washed patients in extended care in those days. That would never happen now.
What happened to her, anyway?
Mrs. Smith? She died of cancer. Ages ago.
Well, at least she didn’t end up in extended care.
Ha ha, good point.
Oh my goodness.
Not only am I glad I didn’t know the unbending Mrs. Smith, I’m also very grateful that I didn’t go into nursing.
Maybe I wasn’t an especially nice person, but at least I never held anyone down and syringed their breakfast into them.
* * *
On the way down to the dining room, Molly and I hear crying coming from room 112.
Dolores. She is aptly named.
Darn it.
Molly parks me just by her door and puts my brakes on. “Give me a sec, Frannie,” she says, sliding into Dolores’s room.
Oh, sw
eetie. What’s wrong?
Why am I here?
Your body is breaking down and you need help to take care of yourself.
But what is it all for?
You mean in the existential sense? It’s a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Dolores sobs. Molly sighs.
Look, honey. Like everyone else, you have to live until you die.
So I’m waiting to die? Is everyone just waiting for me to die?
No, Dolores! Of course not. I simply meant we are all going to die. That is life in a nutshell.
I’m used to being busy.
Of course! You had all the responsibility and work of six kids, to say nothing of their friends and later your grandchildren, and you were crazy busy all your life. Now that it’s your role to be cared for instead of being the caregiver, you don’t know how to take it.
Dolores wails: Yes!
But you have to trust that both sides of the coin are equally important, caretaker and care receiver. That’s really crucial. You don’t know how you’re going to affect another person, even now. You just don’t know. Something you say, some part you play may completely change someone’s life, maybe my life. Maybe your own life. You just have to trust that your life is still significant. You will get through this the same way you got through everything else—one day at a time.
Snuffling. Dolores sounds like a dog nosing about its dish.
Besides. I love you.
Yes. You do, don’t you?
I do. Now let’s go have lunch.
Molly wheels Dolores past me.
She’ll be back in a second. I can wait. I know how.
* * *
A bout of insomnia got me hooked on the Travel Channel.
“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” I asked you idly one day over coffee. Theresa and Chris were married in Aruba. Other than that, we didn’t travel, either of us. We didn’t make it a priority. In fact, except for your yearly ski week, neither of us ever seemed to take holidays. I was so out of practice with the idea of vacationing that travel had become frightening. Having recognized that, I wanted to confront it. Dragons are for slaying.