Wise is still in a coma with multiple trauma, including head injury, broken bones, and internal injuries. And he’s on a respirator,” she reported in her friendly, professional style. “I hope some family can come to be with him soon. It’s so sad that he’s all alone.”
“His family can’t be there right now,” Cassandra ventured. “His grandfather is very ill and hospitalized here at San Francisco Geriatric. I talked with another relative, an aunt, but she’s in Europe right now. She’s asked that we send one of our own nurses to stay with him until she can return to the states. Private duty, you know, as a companion.” Cassandra scrunched her facial muscles and crossed her fingers, as the blatant lie tumbled out of her mouth. “I can send someone later this evening.”
“Well, we can’t let you send someone for private duty nursing, not while he’s a patient here,” Jenny said. “But, you can send her as a companion-sitter to assist. Our own nurse has to be the primary. You know, hospital rules.”
“Of course, that’s what I meant,” Cassandra said. “I’ll send a nurse named Marta Lewski later today, then. You can expect her.” She gave Jenny the phone number of San Francisco Geriatric Center, and hung up the phone with a smile on her face. “Wait ‘til Kaitleen hears about this,” she mumbled as she sprang from her chair and bolted to find her friend in the administrative office downstairs.
Kaitleen was finishing up an afternoon bagel and café latte, and wiping a slight milk moustache from her upper lip when Cassandra sailed into her office. As Director of Nurses for the Geriatric Center, Kaitleen handled all the administrative and staffing duties for the nursing home. She worked autonomously, reporting only to the owner, whom she’d never actually met. All communication with Mr. Everest, the owner, was done electronically once a month.
“We got a whopper!” Cassandra gushed. “We gotta send Marta to Pacific West in Mountain View for evening shift. Jared Wise the Third is in a coma, just like his grandfather. No other relatives. I got us in the door.” She watched the slow smile spread across Kaitleen’s face.
“I’m on it,” Kaitleen said as she picked up the phone to call Marta Lewski in for her next assignment.
Chapter Nine
Melancholy threatens. My apartment feels so cold and empty. I cried when I hugged Serena good-bye at the airport this morning, but it’s time for her to go. She’s taken good care of me. Now I miss her. Who would have thought that my sister and I would become so close? The ache I feel in her absence reawakens a well of grief deep inside me. I always lose the people I love the most.
Shivering, I pull a sweatshirt on over my sleeveless shirt and put the kettle on for tea. Serena is more like my mom, whereas I’m more like my dad. I miss my parents terribly, just as I miss Serena, our family of four so drastically reduced to half. I’m grieving all over again as if their accident happened just yesterday instead of three years ago.
Melancholy isn’t new to me. It always feels drafty. Cold and drafty, it slips into my life and fills all my empty, hollow places with misery. I fix my tea and wrap my fingers around the hot mug for warmth. Fighting the misery, I walk aimlessly around my small apartment, looking out the window and then going out onto the deck, thinking about my life. The sun is bright, and I welcome its healing heat. The warm up begins as I sip from my steaming mug.
I met Alex three weeks before my parents died. He seemed so strong. I let him become the hard rock I leaned on, wrapping my sadness around him like desert roots begging to anchor on something more solid than sand. Loving him cushioned the blow. As I got to know him, I turned to him in the same way Serena turned to her husband and babies for comfort. Serena and I talked about it last night. I wondered if it was my weakness that Alex
“His family can’t be there right now,” Cassandra ventured. “His grandfather is very ill and hospitalized here at San Francisco Geriatric. I talked with another relative, an aunt, but she’s in Europe right now. She’s asked that we send one of our own nurses to stay with him until she can return to the states. Private duty, you know, as a companion.” Cassandra scrunched her facial muscles and crossed her fingers, as the blatant lie tumbled out of her mouth. “I can send someone later this evening.”
“Well, we can’t let you send someone for private duty nursing, not while he’s a patient here,” Jenny said. “But, you can send her as a companion-sitter to assist. Our own nurse has to be the primary. You know, hospital rules.”
“Of course, that’s what I meant,” Cassandra said. “I’ll send a nurse named Marta Lewski later today, then. You can expect her.” She gave Jenny the phone number of San Francisco Geriatric Center, and hung up the phone with a smile on her face. “Wait ‘til Kaitleen hears about this,” she mumbled as she sprang from her chair and bolted to find her friend in the administrative office downstairs.
Kaitleen was finishing up an afternoon bagel and café latte, and wiping a slight milk moustache from her upper lip when Cassandra sailed into her office. As Director of Nurses for the Geriatric Center, Kaitleen handled all the administrative and staffing duties for the nursing home. She worked autonomously, reporting only to the owner, whom she’d never actually met. All communication with Mr. Everest, the owner, was done electronically once a month.
“We got a whopper!” Cassandra gushed. “We gotta send Marta to Pacific West in Mountain View for evening shift. Jared Wise the Third is in a coma, just like his grandfather. No other relatives. I got us in the door.” She watched the slow smile spread across Kaitleen’s face.
“I’m on it,” Kaitleen said as she picked up the phone to call Marta Lewski in for her next assignment.
Chapter Nine
Melancholy threatens. My apartment feels so cold and empty. I cried when I hugged Serena good-bye at the airport this morning, but it’s time for her to go. She’s taken good care of me. Now I miss her. Who would have thought that my sister and I would become so close? The ache I feel in her absence reawakens a well of grief deep inside me. I always lose the people I love the most.
Shivering, I pull a sweatshirt on over my sleeveless shirt and put the kettle on for tea. Serena is more like my mom, whereas I’m more like my dad. I miss my parents terribly, just as I miss Serena, our family of four so drastically reduced to half. I’m grieving all over again as if their accident happened just yesterday instead of three years ago.
Melancholy isn’t new to me. It always feels drafty. Cold and drafty, it slips into my life and fills all my empty, hollow places with misery. I fix my tea and wrap my fingers around the hot mug for warmth. Fighting the misery, I walk aimlessly around my small apartment, looking out the window and then going out onto the deck, thinking about my life. The sun is bright, and I welcome its healing heat. The warm up begins as I sip from my steaming mug.
I met Alex three weeks before my parents died. He seemed so strong. I let him become the hard rock I leaned on, wrapping my sadness around him like desert roots begging to anchor on something more solid than sand. Loving him cushioned the blow. As I got to know him, I turned to him in the same way Serena turned to her husband and babies for comfort. Serena and I talked about it last night. I wondered if it was my weakness that Alex
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