Shouts and Whispers

[Gita]

The night nurse speaks in whispers and I like that, but the morning nurse shouts in a bright, brittle voice, high-pitched, like she's a kindergarten teacher and I'm a hard-of-hearing five-year-old.

"HOW ARE WE TODAY?" she trills, using the first person plural, as if I would know how WE are, as if I could speak for the others who have their own wounds and maladies. I myself am fine, ready for the coffee they never give me and a good sit on the shitter with a newspaper, which they never provide as they assume I can no longer read.

Oh, I can read, my friend, of that I do assure you, ingredients on IV drip bags, cards sent by well-wishers, wash-your-hands posters, and the bright red letters of the EXIT sign.

I've made my plans, refined them twenty times, motionless and yet alert as a German short-haired pointer watching the elevator close and open, even mapped the route. 

But every night, when the nurse whispers at my bedside (did I mention I like that?) I seem to forget my plans, and every morning I must start again to draw them.

 

[Toby Tucker Hecht]

This is profound beyond the actual words.  This is not only about sick people, it is about almost every decision we make and the influences that shape it.  Wonderful observation of life!  (Can't wait to see you, Gita!)

[Paul de Denus]

Having worked at a nursing home, this is sad to read- painfully you've nailed it. The saddest part was watching people as they waited for somebody to visit.

[Dorothy Pendleton]

But, just to keep this in perspective, there is my friend I saw yesterday, who had a massive heart attack last May, was in a coma for seven weeks, and woke up still knowing all his pin codes!!!  Ah, the mysteries of the human brain.  Thank, Gita, for the great writing and the ensuing discussion.

[bolton carley]

i despise nursing homes and hospitals.  the voice here is loud, clear, and probably accurate as sin.  

[Mike Handley]

Excellent story, G, both in content and execution. Faved. That closing is gut-wrenching.

[Joey Delgado]

Sorry. Your mention of the trilling sing-songy nurse hit home and made me laugh. Yes it is a serious subject.

[Gita]

@Joey: If there was humor, it was unintended. I feel quite grim about this topic, I'm afraid.

@Teresa:  as time goes by and she forgets who her husband is and begins a relationship with a man in the nursing home, the husband handles it so well. It tore me up.  What a movie.

[Teresa]

I watched a show on TV (rare event) the other night - Away From Her - about a man who reluctantly places his wife in a home when she is diagnosed with Alzheimers.  She was young, fifty-something, beautiful and bright, so bright she knew she needed to go away before her mind completely disappeared.  It tore me up.  I had memory loss for the rest of the night, ha.  I think we're all terrified of this, because we are our minds, and when they go, so do we.  Brilliant capture here.

[Joey Delgado]

5 million points for writing a humorous and accurate account of a patient's experience. 5 more points for including an awesome nurse. This is great stuff. 

"How are we today" trills are so annoyingly common and have no place on any other floor but pediatrics.

Love this whole damn six. Gotta fave.

[Dorothy Pendleton]

Oh God, Gita.  I've been having the same feelings.  Maybe it's the time of year.  What you've written here is my own personal nightmare.  Can't laugh about it, it'll kill us.