MyJockStrap
05-29-2005, 05:01 PM
Contentment
“Hi, Patty. Looks like a ghost town in here. Where is everyone? Afternoon care?”
Patty greeted Trace with a warm smile as she looked up from her charts: “Hi, there. Believe it or not, afternoon care is completed. I told the crew to take an extra break. They’ve been at it very hard lately.”
“Wow, they kicked ass. Still, seems quiet around here?”
“Well, the ladies are down at the hairdresser’s, and everyone else is asleep. Even Pauline couldn’t keep her eyes open after lunch.”
Trace felt uneasy at the mention of the hairdresser, for he had once again forgotten the hairdresser’s schedule, even though he was responsible for assisting patients to their appointments. Luckily, two volunteers, who volunteered twice a month to escort the patients to the hairdresser, usually covered his neglectful memory.
Sally walked along the front of the desk, stopped in front of Patty, and stared at her intently, prompting Patty to respond: “Sally here isn’t tired; she’s been making her rounds, haven’t you, Sally.”
Sally stared without a change coming over her countenance, and Patty’s face took on a look of concern: “Do you need something, Sally? Are you okay, honey?”
The aphasic Sally was unable to answer, and the staff attempted to compensate for her verbal deficit by anticipating her needs. The center infused all patient care with a philosophy predicated on the patient’s comfort, care, and humanity, and Patty was once again demonstrating her especially effective ability to put this philosophy into practice.
Sally continued her pained pacing. Trace knew Patty made a mental note of the event because he did too. They would both now increase their observation of Sally in an effort to anticipate her unspoken needs.
Patty gleefully snapped a chart closed and popped it back into its cubby: “And—believe it or not—I am caught up with my charting.”
“Awesome. I’ll stay on the floor if you want to catch a smoke,” offered Trace.
“It’s a deal, but first, let me check on Miss Sally.”
Trace began his round of the unit. He trusted Patty’s report but was trained to realize a recreation director’s gaze is different from a nurse’s. The disciplined gaze of one complements the other. Glancing into each room as he walked, Trace looked for patients who were awake and for any elements of disorder. Reaching the end of the first leg, he found no one and nothing that required his attention, so he readjusted the public furniture to meet his exacting sense of order and made his way along the second leg. He reached the round table, peeked into the living room, and found everything well ordered. Proceeding down the third leg of the unit, he found himself heartily agreeing with Patty: The CNAs have been working hard.
Passing a room, Trace glimpsed Selene lying on her bed with her eyes open, Trace knocked lightly on the door and greeted her with a soft voice: “Hello, Selene. May I come in?”
Selene nodded, and Trace made his way to her bedside: “Selene, the hairdresser is here. Would you like to have your hair done?”
Trace noted Selene’s eyes drooping as he spoke. She was tired, so it would take longer for her to respond, but despite her lethargy, Trace was determined to make the partially aphasic Selene voice her response. Her verbal abilities were deteriorating, and Trace worked to keep the aphasia in check with cognitive stimulation and verbal exchanges like this. He imagined these exchanges must feel intrusive and bothersome, but his training told him this was the thing to do, so despite his guilt at interrupting the sleepy woman, he pressed his question to her again: “Selene, do you want to go to the hairdresser?”
Selene blinked as she focused her eyes on Trace. Trace could see the struggle for expression in them. After a few seconds, Selene released three raspy syllables: “No, thank you.”
Her eyes drooped the moment she finished speaking. Trace ran his fingers over her forehead and cleared a silver lock of hair from it. He knew Selene must be very tired or something must be wrong, for she loved having her hair done. Her freshly coiffed silver mane was often the buzz of the unit.
Trace asked one more question: “You okay, Selene? Just tired?”
Selene nodded in response.
Before leaving, Trace pressed his lips to her forehead: “You sleep then, Selene. I love you, honey.”
Selene’s eyes opened as a smile broke across her face. Covering Selene with a blanket from the foot of the bed, Trace quietly backed out of the room. He pulled the door three-quarters closed behind him, as was the unit’s policy. This allowed for a degree of privacy but still allowed the staff to monitor the room.
Walking through the last leg of the unit, Trace found himself approaching the nurses’ station. Looking into the last room, he found Tony sitting quietly beside his bed in his Geri chair. His eyes were open, and as usual, he was hunched over the chair’s safety tray, but his hands were not gripping its edge, and he wore a peaceful look on his face. His eyes were hazy and focused on the air before him as if he looked into a window that opened onto distant angels or some other realm more peaceful than the one usually occupied by Trace.
Gently tapping the door before entering, Trace greeted Tony with a soft voice: “Hello, Tony.”
Having lost the ability to respond to external stimuli, Tony continued staring: “How about coming out to the hallway for some sunlight?”
Allowing a moment for the processing of words that were most likely not being processed, Trace walked behind Tony’s chair and gently placed his hand on his shoulder: “I am going to wheel you out to the hallway, Tony.”
Trace wheeled Tony’s chair out of the room and into a patch of sunlight. Kneeling, he placed himself in the sunlight to check its temperature and intensity. Placing his hands on Tony’s forearms, he gently massaged them. Tony’s skin was cold and slid loosely beneath his fingers, and the muscles it covered were knotted. Slowly, as Trace pressed at the knots with the pads of his fingers, the contractions relaxed, and Tony’s hands opened nearly all the way. His muscle’s relaxed, but Tony himself did not respond, and he continued staring into his window.
Glancing over his shoulder, Trace saw Patty walking backwards and gently leading Sally forward by tugging on her hands. Patty wrinkled her nose slightly, and Trace understood Sally required personal care.
Trace thought to ask about Selene: “Is Selene okay? I asked if she wanted to have her hair done, but she was too tired?”
Patti nodded: “She’s fine. She was nodding out over lunch. They’re all just tired today. It’s just one of those days.”
“My friend Tony is awake.” Trace looked into Tony’s eyes before continuing: “Is it okay if I fix Tony a cup of coffee and a doughnut I bought for him?”
“Yes, he’ll love that. Just give him a bit more time to digest lunch.” Patty’s eyes shone with appreciation as she continued: “Just remember to use a hard cup.”
“Sure thing,” Trace reassured her.
Satisfied the sunlight was not too strong, Trace patted Tony’s hands: “I’ll see you in a few minutes, Tony.”
Trace walked to the living room, picked up the phone, and dialed Mare’s number.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Mare. It’s Trace.”
“Hidey ho, and how goes?”
“Pretty good here, and you there?”
“Pretty good. I can’t talk long though; I was just heading out. But, I want to hear about the date with Elan.”
“It was good, real good.”
“Ah, do tell,” purred Mare.
“He’s a really nice guy, and he’s fucking cute.”
“Tell, tell.”
“He’s taller than me and skinny like me but not too much. He has a cute smile and beautiful eyes.”
“Nice,” responded Mare.
“That’s exactly it. To top it off, he’s nice. He’s nice, smart, funny, and interesting. I couldn’t expect to meet a nicer guy. And, he’s very comfortable with being gay.”
“Honey, that’s great. I am so excited for you. Did you kiss?”
“Yeah,” answered Trace demurely as he remembered the feel of Elan’s lips pressed against his.
“Ooooooooo, it was a good date!” exclaimed Mare.
“Yeah, it was. We’re going out again tomorrow night.”
“Great. I’ll look forward to meeting him at some point,” Mare offered suggestively.
“So where are you off to? Job interview?” asked Trace changing the subject.
“No, I wish. I’m going to the library?”
“Again? You’re like one of those homeless people that haunt the bathroom there. What are you doing there anyway?”
“Nice display of empathy, hon. I’ll be sure to say hello to them for you. I’m doing job stuff, and speaking of job stuff, I best get my butt in gear. Let’s talk more tonight.”
“Okay, good luck on your search.”
“Thanks, hon. I’m glad it went well with Elan.”
“Thanks.” Trace hung up the phone and thought about Elan. He was thrilled Mare was happy for him, and he relished the attention he was receiving for a romantic pursuit. Before now, he had always been the one wishing others well with their relationships. He was always a willing ear for the stories of courtship or the shoulder for the stories of heartbreak.
Trace relished the difference as he located his cart, and pushed it to Tony’s side. Along the way, he retrieved a hard plastic mug full of coffee and a chair from the kitchen. Pulling the chair and cart behind him, he positioned himself next to Tony, who sat peacefully gazing into the distance. Trace laid his hand over Tony’s forearm. His skin was still cool to the touch, but it was no longer clammy.
“Tony, how would you like a doughnut and some coffee? I bought your favorite kind—chocolate glazed.
Tony showed no sign of response.
“Hi, Patty. Looks like a ghost town in here. Where is everyone? Afternoon care?”
Patty greeted Trace with a warm smile as she looked up from her charts: “Hi, there. Believe it or not, afternoon care is completed. I told the crew to take an extra break. They’ve been at it very hard lately.”
“Wow, they kicked ass. Still, seems quiet around here?”
“Well, the ladies are down at the hairdresser’s, and everyone else is asleep. Even Pauline couldn’t keep her eyes open after lunch.”
Trace felt uneasy at the mention of the hairdresser, for he had once again forgotten the hairdresser’s schedule, even though he was responsible for assisting patients to their appointments. Luckily, two volunteers, who volunteered twice a month to escort the patients to the hairdresser, usually covered his neglectful memory.
Sally walked along the front of the desk, stopped in front of Patty, and stared at her intently, prompting Patty to respond: “Sally here isn’t tired; she’s been making her rounds, haven’t you, Sally.”
Sally stared without a change coming over her countenance, and Patty’s face took on a look of concern: “Do you need something, Sally? Are you okay, honey?”
The aphasic Sally was unable to answer, and the staff attempted to compensate for her verbal deficit by anticipating her needs. The center infused all patient care with a philosophy predicated on the patient’s comfort, care, and humanity, and Patty was once again demonstrating her especially effective ability to put this philosophy into practice.
Sally continued her pained pacing. Trace knew Patty made a mental note of the event because he did too. They would both now increase their observation of Sally in an effort to anticipate her unspoken needs.
Patty gleefully snapped a chart closed and popped it back into its cubby: “And—believe it or not—I am caught up with my charting.”
“Awesome. I’ll stay on the floor if you want to catch a smoke,” offered Trace.
“It’s a deal, but first, let me check on Miss Sally.”
Trace began his round of the unit. He trusted Patty’s report but was trained to realize a recreation director’s gaze is different from a nurse’s. The disciplined gaze of one complements the other. Glancing into each room as he walked, Trace looked for patients who were awake and for any elements of disorder. Reaching the end of the first leg, he found no one and nothing that required his attention, so he readjusted the public furniture to meet his exacting sense of order and made his way along the second leg. He reached the round table, peeked into the living room, and found everything well ordered. Proceeding down the third leg of the unit, he found himself heartily agreeing with Patty: The CNAs have been working hard.
Passing a room, Trace glimpsed Selene lying on her bed with her eyes open, Trace knocked lightly on the door and greeted her with a soft voice: “Hello, Selene. May I come in?”
Selene nodded, and Trace made his way to her bedside: “Selene, the hairdresser is here. Would you like to have your hair done?”
Trace noted Selene’s eyes drooping as he spoke. She was tired, so it would take longer for her to respond, but despite her lethargy, Trace was determined to make the partially aphasic Selene voice her response. Her verbal abilities were deteriorating, and Trace worked to keep the aphasia in check with cognitive stimulation and verbal exchanges like this. He imagined these exchanges must feel intrusive and bothersome, but his training told him this was the thing to do, so despite his guilt at interrupting the sleepy woman, he pressed his question to her again: “Selene, do you want to go to the hairdresser?”
Selene blinked as she focused her eyes on Trace. Trace could see the struggle for expression in them. After a few seconds, Selene released three raspy syllables: “No, thank you.”
Her eyes drooped the moment she finished speaking. Trace ran his fingers over her forehead and cleared a silver lock of hair from it. He knew Selene must be very tired or something must be wrong, for she loved having her hair done. Her freshly coiffed silver mane was often the buzz of the unit.
Trace asked one more question: “You okay, Selene? Just tired?”
Selene nodded in response.
Before leaving, Trace pressed his lips to her forehead: “You sleep then, Selene. I love you, honey.”
Selene’s eyes opened as a smile broke across her face. Covering Selene with a blanket from the foot of the bed, Trace quietly backed out of the room. He pulled the door three-quarters closed behind him, as was the unit’s policy. This allowed for a degree of privacy but still allowed the staff to monitor the room.
Walking through the last leg of the unit, Trace found himself approaching the nurses’ station. Looking into the last room, he found Tony sitting quietly beside his bed in his Geri chair. His eyes were open, and as usual, he was hunched over the chair’s safety tray, but his hands were not gripping its edge, and he wore a peaceful look on his face. His eyes were hazy and focused on the air before him as if he looked into a window that opened onto distant angels or some other realm more peaceful than the one usually occupied by Trace.
Gently tapping the door before entering, Trace greeted Tony with a soft voice: “Hello, Tony.”
Having lost the ability to respond to external stimuli, Tony continued staring: “How about coming out to the hallway for some sunlight?”
Allowing a moment for the processing of words that were most likely not being processed, Trace walked behind Tony’s chair and gently placed his hand on his shoulder: “I am going to wheel you out to the hallway, Tony.”
Trace wheeled Tony’s chair out of the room and into a patch of sunlight. Kneeling, he placed himself in the sunlight to check its temperature and intensity. Placing his hands on Tony’s forearms, he gently massaged them. Tony’s skin was cold and slid loosely beneath his fingers, and the muscles it covered were knotted. Slowly, as Trace pressed at the knots with the pads of his fingers, the contractions relaxed, and Tony’s hands opened nearly all the way. His muscle’s relaxed, but Tony himself did not respond, and he continued staring into his window.
Glancing over his shoulder, Trace saw Patty walking backwards and gently leading Sally forward by tugging on her hands. Patty wrinkled her nose slightly, and Trace understood Sally required personal care.
Trace thought to ask about Selene: “Is Selene okay? I asked if she wanted to have her hair done, but she was too tired?”
Patti nodded: “She’s fine. She was nodding out over lunch. They’re all just tired today. It’s just one of those days.”
“My friend Tony is awake.” Trace looked into Tony’s eyes before continuing: “Is it okay if I fix Tony a cup of coffee and a doughnut I bought for him?”
“Yes, he’ll love that. Just give him a bit more time to digest lunch.” Patty’s eyes shone with appreciation as she continued: “Just remember to use a hard cup.”
“Sure thing,” Trace reassured her.
Satisfied the sunlight was not too strong, Trace patted Tony’s hands: “I’ll see you in a few minutes, Tony.”
Trace walked to the living room, picked up the phone, and dialed Mare’s number.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Mare. It’s Trace.”
“Hidey ho, and how goes?”
“Pretty good here, and you there?”
“Pretty good. I can’t talk long though; I was just heading out. But, I want to hear about the date with Elan.”
“It was good, real good.”
“Ah, do tell,” purred Mare.
“He’s a really nice guy, and he’s fucking cute.”
“Tell, tell.”
“He’s taller than me and skinny like me but not too much. He has a cute smile and beautiful eyes.”
“Nice,” responded Mare.
“That’s exactly it. To top it off, he’s nice. He’s nice, smart, funny, and interesting. I couldn’t expect to meet a nicer guy. And, he’s very comfortable with being gay.”
“Honey, that’s great. I am so excited for you. Did you kiss?”
“Yeah,” answered Trace demurely as he remembered the feel of Elan’s lips pressed against his.
“Ooooooooo, it was a good date!” exclaimed Mare.
“Yeah, it was. We’re going out again tomorrow night.”
“Great. I’ll look forward to meeting him at some point,” Mare offered suggestively.
“So where are you off to? Job interview?” asked Trace changing the subject.
“No, I wish. I’m going to the library?”
“Again? You’re like one of those homeless people that haunt the bathroom there. What are you doing there anyway?”
“Nice display of empathy, hon. I’ll be sure to say hello to them for you. I’m doing job stuff, and speaking of job stuff, I best get my butt in gear. Let’s talk more tonight.”
“Okay, good luck on your search.”
“Thanks, hon. I’m glad it went well with Elan.”
“Thanks.” Trace hung up the phone and thought about Elan. He was thrilled Mare was happy for him, and he relished the attention he was receiving for a romantic pursuit. Before now, he had always been the one wishing others well with their relationships. He was always a willing ear for the stories of courtship or the shoulder for the stories of heartbreak.
Trace relished the difference as he located his cart, and pushed it to Tony’s side. Along the way, he retrieved a hard plastic mug full of coffee and a chair from the kitchen. Pulling the chair and cart behind him, he positioned himself next to Tony, who sat peacefully gazing into the distance. Trace laid his hand over Tony’s forearm. His skin was still cool to the touch, but it was no longer clammy.
“Tony, how would you like a doughnut and some coffee? I bought your favorite kind—chocolate glazed.
Tony showed no sign of response.