Episode
6 - Contentment
Trace walked onto 2A and found the unit surprisingly
quiet. Sally was pacing the halls. She was usually the first
to exhibit the increased agitation inherent in sun-downing,
but today, she was at it earlier than usual. No one else could
be seen. Trace made his way to the nurses’ station, where
he found the unit nurse working on charts.
“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.
Slipping the requisite rubber gloves over his
hands, Trace broke off a piece of doughnut and pressed it against
Tony’s lips. Tony’s tendency to chomp on anything
he ate or drank made feeding him a safety challenge, and Trace
was careful to pull his fingers away before the teeth slammed
shut. Tony’s mouth opened and closed gently over the piece
of doughnut. Trace heard the familiar sound of teeth colliding,
but instead of a chomp, he heard a click. The click was followed
by a deep guttural moan of gratification. Trace pondered Tony’s
unusually relaxed state as he brushed a lock of hair from Tony’s
forehead. Pressing the mug of coffee to Tony’s lips, he
decided to let the moment simply be what it was, a moment of
contentment in an otherwise discontented existence.
Looking over his shoulder, Trace saw Patty
smiling appreciatively at him and gesturing to her mouth with
a mock smoking motion. Trace nodded his understanding and smiled
back. Watching Patty walk away, Trace concluded there was nothing
more than this and decided to accept this as his working definition
of contentment.
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