abdomen. She was able to shift her head slightly on the pillow and for a minute her vision swam as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room. A light-skinned Black woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform entered the room and approached her bedside. The home care nurse.
The nurse wouldn’t look at her as she checked her pulse and heartbeat and made notations in a chart. “You had a nice nap?” the nurse asked. “How do you feel?”
Adelle struggled to speak. “…’kay…”
The nurse continued writing in her chart. “Good. I’ll be preparing your dinner in about an hour. Chicken Soup.”
“Pay….per…” Adelle managed to say. The nurse looked at her and Adelle motioned to a notepad and a pen lying on the bureau. “Pen.”
The nurse retrieved the pen and paper and set them on Adelle’s stomach. Adelle gripped the pen and began to write. “I’m sorry my speech is limited. What’s your name?”
“My name is Natsinet Zenawi,” the nurse said.
Adelle smiled. Or tried to, at least. “What a beautiful name,” she wrote. “Let me guess…Ethiopian?”
There was the faintest hint of a frown on the nurse’s face. “No. I am Eritrean. Two separate countries.”
Now it was Adelle’s turn to frown. She wrote again. “I’m sorry. My mistake. So much tragedy has occurred in that country…so many changes—”
“Actually, it doesn’t matter to me where I come from,” the nurse said, overriding Adelle’s train of thought. “I’m here to care for you for the next five days. Is there anything you need?”
Adelle thought about it, trying not to let her dismay show. This woman had a curt edge to her she found disconcerting. She flipped a page up to a new sheet, then wrote, “When does my physical therapy start?”
There was no mistaking that frown now. “Uh uh,” Natsinet said, shaking her head. Her irritation turned swiftly to anger that seemed to come from nowhere. “No, I’m not doing that. It’s not what I signed up for.”
Adelle gave a startled gasp. The doctors and nurses at the hospital told her she would have in-home nursing and physical rehabilitation. Tonya had brought in a combined nurse and physical therapist from Hospice Nursing in Philadelphia—the best in the state. She didn’t understand. “I thought —” She started writing.
“You thought nothing,” Natsinet said, and there was no mistaking the venom in that voice now. “If you’d had an original thought in your wrinkled head, you would have moved out of this hell-hole years ago. I am not providing you with physical therapy. Fuck that and fuck you!”
Adelle gasped again. She couldn’t believe this woman had cursed her. Quickly gaining her composure, she scribbled on the paper. “Fine. Please bring me the phone. I need to make a phone call.”
“And report me? Fuck you again.” And with that Natsinet leaned over the bed, grabbed Adelle beneath her armpits and hauled her out of bed. Adelle gave a mangled yell; her right arm flopped uselessly as she tried to maneuver it to strike at the younger woman, but she was too weak.
“You want physical therapy?” And before she knew it, Natsinet dragged her out of the bed and threw her to the floor. She hit the hardwood floor hard, coming down on her right forearm, hip, and shoulder. A flare of agony stabbed into her right side, and as she tried to struggle into a position to hoist herself up she flopped over on her stomach in a truly helpless position. Help me, she thought, not even aware of the pain that wracked her right side and her wrist.
“There you go.” Natsinet said above her. “Now climb back into bed yourself! How’s that for physical therapy?”
Adelle was certain she blacked out at that point. Her next memory was lying in bed—how she got there she had no recollection of, but Natsinet had obviously gotten her back in somehow. The nurse was standing beside her, a smirk on her face.
Please , Adelle thought.
Natsinet leaned over her. “You
The nurse wouldn’t look at her as she checked her pulse and heartbeat and made notations in a chart. “You had a nice nap?” the nurse asked. “How do you feel?”
Adelle struggled to speak. “…’kay…”
The nurse continued writing in her chart. “Good. I’ll be preparing your dinner in about an hour. Chicken Soup.”
“Pay….per…” Adelle managed to say. The nurse looked at her and Adelle motioned to a notepad and a pen lying on the bureau. “Pen.”
The nurse retrieved the pen and paper and set them on Adelle’s stomach. Adelle gripped the pen and began to write. “I’m sorry my speech is limited. What’s your name?”
“My name is Natsinet Zenawi,” the nurse said.
Adelle smiled. Or tried to, at least. “What a beautiful name,” she wrote. “Let me guess…Ethiopian?”
There was the faintest hint of a frown on the nurse’s face. “No. I am Eritrean. Two separate countries.”
Now it was Adelle’s turn to frown. She wrote again. “I’m sorry. My mistake. So much tragedy has occurred in that country…so many changes—”
“Actually, it doesn’t matter to me where I come from,” the nurse said, overriding Adelle’s train of thought. “I’m here to care for you for the next five days. Is there anything you need?”
Adelle thought about it, trying not to let her dismay show. This woman had a curt edge to her she found disconcerting. She flipped a page up to a new sheet, then wrote, “When does my physical therapy start?”
There was no mistaking that frown now. “Uh uh,” Natsinet said, shaking her head. Her irritation turned swiftly to anger that seemed to come from nowhere. “No, I’m not doing that. It’s not what I signed up for.”
Adelle gave a startled gasp. The doctors and nurses at the hospital told her she would have in-home nursing and physical rehabilitation. Tonya had brought in a combined nurse and physical therapist from Hospice Nursing in Philadelphia—the best in the state. She didn’t understand. “I thought —” She started writing.
“You thought nothing,” Natsinet said, and there was no mistaking the venom in that voice now. “If you’d had an original thought in your wrinkled head, you would have moved out of this hell-hole years ago. I am not providing you with physical therapy. Fuck that and fuck you!”
Adelle gasped again. She couldn’t believe this woman had cursed her. Quickly gaining her composure, she scribbled on the paper. “Fine. Please bring me the phone. I need to make a phone call.”
“And report me? Fuck you again.” And with that Natsinet leaned over the bed, grabbed Adelle beneath her armpits and hauled her out of bed. Adelle gave a mangled yell; her right arm flopped uselessly as she tried to maneuver it to strike at the younger woman, but she was too weak.
“You want physical therapy?” And before she knew it, Natsinet dragged her out of the bed and threw her to the floor. She hit the hardwood floor hard, coming down on her right forearm, hip, and shoulder. A flare of agony stabbed into her right side, and as she tried to struggle into a position to hoist herself up she flopped over on her stomach in a truly helpless position. Help me, she thought, not even aware of the pain that wracked her right side and her wrist.
“There you go.” Natsinet said above her. “Now climb back into bed yourself! How’s that for physical therapy?”
Adelle was certain she blacked out at that point. Her next memory was lying in bed—how she got there she had no recollection of, but Natsinet had obviously gotten her back in somehow. The nurse was standing beside her, a smirk on her face.
Please , Adelle thought.
Natsinet leaned over her. “You
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