Chapter Five - Charlotte
I can hardly believe my new job is considered work, let alone work in the same field. The tour and orientation paperwork are a blur, names and rooms and numbers of vacation days. The nursing station is bright and crisp, somehow both warmer and more modern than what I’m used to. The patient loads on each nurse are much smaller than I’ve ever seen, even in the ICU. No one is running, and even the call bells sound in a calm, low-pitched tone. An aide at the nursing station answers them from a phone and heads off to assist patients.
The hospice has inpatient and outpatient services. Downstairs, I meet a team of people setting up services in nursing facilities and people’s homes. I’d consider working on the in-home side, traveling to work with patients all over town, but decided I’d rather not drive around all day. I’ve never been a huge fan of being in cars for extended periods of time, and I’d prefer to show up somewhere in the morning and stay until I’m done. I’m glad I’ve chosen the inpatient unit, even more now that I’m spending time in its warm atmosphere.
A pleasant older nurse named Kristen shows me around. I’m supposed to be shadowing her for a week before I’m given my own assignment, but she promises that with all my experience, I’ll get the hang of things really fast. Kristen talks fast and she talks a lot, making my morning fly by. Everyone I meet is chatty in a way that doesn’t seem gossipy, and it makes me feel at home quickly.
Around lunchtime, it comes up in conversation that Dad owns the Dock’s End Bistro, and several of my new coworkers excitedly start to praise Dad and Danny. Kristen’s husband had his last birthday dinner there and it was amazing. Another nurse says she went for her nursing school graduation dinner, and an aide says it’s a date night must, and a social worker chimes in that every time he goes, it feels new and fresh. Everyone has nothing but good things to say about the space and the food, and I feel warm hearing it.
After having eaten some of Danny’s food a few days ago, and after having spent time in the restaurant, I agree with them. Danny is an amazingly talented chef, skilled and creative. His food is flavorful – both comforting and exciting at once. Everything about him is comforting and exciting all at once, really. I haven’t been able to get him or his kind, handsome face out of my head.
In the early afternoon, Kristen introduces me to an elderly woman who’d been asleep earlier. She’s tiny and bright-eyed, sitting up in bed and smiling despite her condition.
“Charlotte, this is Catherine. She’s a real veteran around here,” Kristen says, smiling warmly at the frail women, who laughs.
“I’ve been dying for a long time now,” she says, laughing a thin, raspy sort of laugh at her own joke. I laugh too. Over the years, I’ve heard patients deal with illness in all sorts of ways. Humor, even if it’s dark, always seems like it’s helping a lot more than lashing out in anger or withdrawing in depression.
“You can really help me get to know things here, then,” I say, smiling and extending a hand to shake Catherine’s.
“Sweetheart, I can tell you every secret this place has,” Catherine says with a wink and another raspy laugh.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I say, instantly liking Catherine immensely.
“I’ve been told I’m a great storyteller,” Catherine says.
“That you are,” Kristen says. “I keep saying we should hold a story hour, starring you.”
“I like that sound of that,” Catherine says, coughing into her hands, eyes still sparkling even as she does.
“I’m going to let you two get to know each other. I’ll be right back,” Kristen says, excusing herself with a quick nod to me. I nod back. I’ve trained people and had them shadow me for weeks on end at the hospital, and I know how sometimes it makes it feel impossible to get daily tasks done. I don’t mind being left on my own for a bit.
“Before I tell you anything, I want to know about you,” Catherine says, smiling broadly at me and pointing to a chair by her bedside. “How long have you been a nurse?”
“Almost ten years,” I say, sitting and shaking my head. “I went to nursing school in Philadelphia right after high school, and I worked in a hospital there until last week.”
“One of those giant city hospitals?” Catherine asks me, looking curious. “I had surgery in one of those a few years back. I felt lost the whole time.”
“It was giant, but I got pretty used to it,” I say, “and they were good to me. They paid for school and for me to advance my degree a few years ago. I gained so much experience.”
“A woman with ambition,” Catherine says, nodding, “You know what I wanted to be when I was a teenager?”
“What’s that?” I ask, smiling back, thoroughly enjoying the conversation. I’ve always enjoyed talking with older patients, hearing about what the world was like long before I was born.
“A lawyer. I was dead set on it, too.” Catherine says.
“So did you do it?” I ask, fascinated.
“I’m a retired florist,” Catherine says, laughing a little. I shake my head.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Had a baby,” Catherine says, “when I was seventeen.”
“Oh,” I say, nodding, thinking how hard it must have been. I know many women who had babies young, and several of them are really happy, but I can’t imagine it. I want a family and children very much, but it’s only in the past couple of years I’ve really felt like I was ready to be someone’s mother. The idea of having done it at seventeen seems like a much greater task than I would have been up to at that age.
“But you know, my baby daughter grew up to be a business owner. Her daughter, my granddaughter, she’s a college junior, and she’s thinking she wants to go to law school, so I can’t really be disappointed, can I?” Catherine asks.
“That’s wonderful,” I say genuinely. I can tell Catherine was the sort of woman who was an amazing, encouraging her daughter and granddaughter.
“It was no picnic, I’ll tell you that, a teenager having a baby back then. I felt like every eye in town was on me, judging me, and for years I never knew where the next speck of food or bit of money to pay bills would come from, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” Catherine says, smiling in a far-off way like she’s thinking.
“That must have been a challenge,” I say, shaking my head, thinking of it – of being so young and it being all those years ago.
“I always find it’s amazing what a person can accomplish when they find that they have to,” Catherine says. “You can do things you once would have thought impossible when life calls for it.”
“That sounds like good advice,” I say, turning it over in my mind. Often, I’ve thought I should write these things down, these things I hear from elderly patients that are the result of the lessons of so many years of life. Maybe one day I will.
“That’s because it is,” Catherine says, laughing. “Now tell me more about you.”
I spend the next several minutes telling her all about my move, my parents, Dad’s restaurant, and my new apartment. By the time Kristen comes back, I feel like Catherine and I have become fast friends.
“Isn’t she great?” Kristen asks as we walk back down the hall. “Her hospice order has been renewed five times. She just keeps hanging on.”
“I believe it,” I say. “She seems really strong.”
“She is, although this time really might be it. She’s been losing weight even though she’s retaining water, and her kidney output has slowed dramatically,” Kristen says in a whisper. “But then, we all thought she was on her last legs eight months ago, so who knows?”
“We had patients like that,” I say. “They’d cycle through the hospital for years, and every time we’d think there was no way they’d bounce back this time. It was too much. Then, a week later, they’d be sitting up, talking your ear off.”
“Strange how that seems to happen,” Kristen says, nodding. “Ready to see the charting software in action?”
I nod and follow her, still thinking about my conversation with Catherine and her words of wisdom.