“Give it up, Lucy.  If you aren’t going to eat it, I’m throwing it away,” says Kelsey

“How dare you!”  Lucy’s temper flares.  She’s a feisty one, still well within her own mind at 89 years old.  Sometimes the Alzheimer’s patients frustrate her.  But she can be a real sweetheart when she’s minding her own business.

“I’m going to take Mrs. Marsden to bed.  Wrap her dinner, will you?  In case she’s hungry later.”  Unlocking the wheels of her chair, I wheel Mrs. Marsden from the table without her waking up.  Poor woman looks beat.  We walk down to 6B where I had already laid out her pajamas at the start of my shift.  “Monica, let’s get you to bed, okay?” I say, shaking her gently.

She rouses, and though looking exhausted, I still get a simple nod of her head.  I try to change her as swiftly as possible before tucking her into her sheets.

“Goodnight.  Call for me if you get hungry.  Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”  I give her hand a firm squeeze before turning out the light.

Through the darkness, she calls for me.  Weakly.  Quietly, I hear, “Tatum?”

“Yes, Monica.  What is it?”

“Sit with me a minute.”  It’s a statement more than a question.  She knows I will, like I always do when she asks.

“Sure,” I respond while I take a seat on her bed beside her feet.

“Do you believe in angels?” she asks me, her voice raspy and thick with sleep.

I ponder her question for a moment.  My mom was always too busy getting high to take me to church, let alone teach me any sort of belief system while I was growing up.  Of course by 18 years old, I’m not ignorant to the different factions of religion.  But I just can’t understand why I’ve been allowed so much hurt and disappointment in my life, why I have to work so hard for happiness, if there’s a higher power, angels, god, whatever have you.  Which leads me to answer her, “I’m not sure,” because I don’t want to disappoint her, but I can’t outright tell her no when she may be dying in the very near future.

“You should.  I think you’re an angel,” she says sincerely.

“I’m no angel, Monica.  I’m just Tatum, your nurse’s aide.  I do my job because I care, but it has nothing to do with divine power.”

“Maybe you care because of divine power.  Not many people can do what you do, with the heart that you have.

If only she knew I didn’t really have a heart.

“I think I’m going to die,” is the next statement out of her mouth.  Many patients begin to talk about death when the time nears, so I’m not overly surprised by her announcement.  However, she doesn’t look like death is imminent to me, so curious, I press her further.

“What makes you say that?”

“It just feels like the right time.  But I’m scared.  What’s going to happen to me?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.  “But I do believe you’ll figure it out when the time is right.  It’s scary because it’s a mystery.  Whatever you feel, you may feel fear for a moment, but it will be fleeting, then everything will be revealed to you.”  She takes in my words with a look of relief on her face.  I wish I had a better way to help her.

“Thank you, Tatum.  I’d like to sleep now if that’s okay.”

“Of course.  Give me a holler if you need me.  Goodnight,” I say, patting her leg as I get up to leave.

“Goodnight, dearie.”

The dining hall is empty when I return, which means Kelsey and the other CNA’s must be getting the others situated, whether it’s in bed or to watch a movie or play a game.  The home I work for has a range of patients, from those with diseases such as Alzheimer’s and Dementia, to elderly who are mentally stable but unable to care for themselves in their homes for whatever reason.  There are four staff on tonight to the 21 beds, and we also have a live-in nurse who has an apartment upstairs.

There are two other girls working tonight besides Kelsey and Myself.  Danielle and Megan are two sixteen year olds who attend the same high school as I do.  Simply put, we don’t get along.  They’re young and dramatic, and I don’t have time to play into their insignificant problems about boys or catty girls.  More than once have I heard them whisper about how I’m such a bitch.  Whatever.  I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to make a living.

Kelsey and I, however, do get along well.  I consider her one of my closest friends.  We’ve worked the same schedule since I needed to pick up fulltime hours last year.  She also doesn’t like immature teenagers, so we bonded over our mutual annoyance.  In the past, I’ve been able to count on her when I’d found myself in a tight spot, and I’ve recognized a kindred spirit in her.

“Hey, Tatum.  Are you done with Mrs. Marsden?” She calls from the end of the hallway.

“Yeah, what would you like me to do?”

“Can you come here and help me lift Helen into bed quick?  Then would you mind starting dinner clean up?”  I love dinner clean up.  Washing dishes is such a mindless task.

After situating Helen and cleaning up dinner, Kelsey and I release the younger girls, so the two of us get comfortable in the sitting room.  She turns the television on to some detective show she’s obsessed with.  Me, not so much.  I lived my own real version of a detective show last year, and it was more than enough reality for me.

“Here, I brought this for us,” she says, tossing me a bag of Doritos.

“You brought us chips?”

“Mmm hmm, and this.”  She jumps off the couch and runs into the kitchen.  When she returns she’s carrying a family sized tub of sour cream and chive dip.

“Oh my God, how did you know this is my favorite?” I exclaim, while tearing into the bag of chips, scooping up some dip when she offers it to me.  “Yum.”

She laughs at my theatrics.  “I thought you might be a fan.  It’s my favorite too.  Since they started the “no eating our food” rule here,” she says with air quotes, “I’ve been starving by the time I’m off work.  We can alternate bringing something to share if you want.  Or I can bring it all, if it’s hard on you financially.  I know the free food was a major plus for you.”

I kick off my shoes, slipping my feet beneath me on the sofa.  I’m embarrassed she knows how financially strapped I am.  “Nah, I can manage a few snacks.  I’m poor but not that poor.”  I watch as she takes a chip covered with dip and slips it into her mouth.

“How is everything going lately for you?  School started back up again today, right?”

“Yup.  Final semester of my senior year.  I already ended up in Mr. Stephenson’s office, too,” I tell her.

“What? Why?  I hated that guy.  He’s such a dick.”

I fill her in on this afternoon’s events, trying hard not to laugh as her face turns red and she cracks up at my antics.  When I’m done talking, she settles down in her seat before asking me, “Okay, that’s funny, but seriously though, why were you so annoyed with him?  I get it, I’d be pissed if my teacher was off getting a bj while I had to wait for him to show up.  But you’re usually so cool and collected about shit.”

“I know,” I reply, slightly ashamed.  “I think it was a combination of everything.  Here comes this young new teacher, looking the way he did, probably thinks he’s a hot shot.  I could hear girls already swooning the moment they set eyes on him, you know?  He’s ten minutes late, and frankly, I just don’t have time for that.  Now, I have to spend the next two weeks with him, and I just know he’s going to make it hell for me.  He looks like he’d be a vindictive bastard.”  I leave out the part about meeting him the week before and our short make-out session before I bailed in a very Tatum-like fashion.  That’s too much sharing for one eventful day.

She clucks her tongue at me.  “Or maybe, he’s going to be totally into you, and you can bang your way through calculus,” she says with a lift of her thinly plucked brows.

“Shut up!” I throw a decorative pillow at her.  “That’s disgusting.”