Sudden Decline in the Season of the Dead
I pulled the Death card this morning, on the anniversary of my Father's birthday. That was the final factor that made me take the turn off to go see V, even though I was not required to according to my schedule.
V is so sick it makes me catch my breath to look at them, in and out of sleep, slow rattly breaths at moments, can't get words out. This is not the kind of nursing I do, but I think I could, I just have to settle in to a different mode.
V wakes up, tries to get out words with shocking persistence. The hospital nurse asks questions; she has no idea the extent to which this is not V's baseline. I explain that i can tell even by the two and a half word answers that V understands everything I am saying. I ask V for confirmation of this in front of the nurse and they choke out a "yes". I realize that's the best I have to offer to this person who is most likely sick from some form of neglect, maybe several types added up.
I have worked very hard in the last handful of months to protect them from neglect, to do damage control, to reverse the process. That machine is too big for me. All I have now is my ears. I hope V doesn't die, and if they don't, I hope they recover better than completely. I have been crying a lot thinking about it, I don't know why this particular person has galvanized so much of my grief and fear, but they have. I fear that makes me unprofessional or poorly boundaried. But there are some people i need to step up that extra bit to root for, and my true self is pretty freaking sure this person is one for whom i need to do that.
Happy last day of my own personal season of the dead. V, you have three more hours to go. After that everything will magically change. I'll wake up and there will be universal health care and all those barriers will be gone and you will recover miraculously just in time to get all the resources to keep you well this time. See you in a couple days, yeah?
V is so sick it makes me catch my breath to look at them, in and out of sleep, slow rattly breaths at moments, can't get words out. This is not the kind of nursing I do, but I think I could, I just have to settle in to a different mode.
V wakes up, tries to get out words with shocking persistence. The hospital nurse asks questions; she has no idea the extent to which this is not V's baseline. I explain that i can tell even by the two and a half word answers that V understands everything I am saying. I ask V for confirmation of this in front of the nurse and they choke out a "yes". I realize that's the best I have to offer to this person who is most likely sick from some form of neglect, maybe several types added up.
I have worked very hard in the last handful of months to protect them from neglect, to do damage control, to reverse the process. That machine is too big for me. All I have now is my ears. I hope V doesn't die, and if they don't, I hope they recover better than completely. I have been crying a lot thinking about it, I don't know why this particular person has galvanized so much of my grief and fear, but they have. I fear that makes me unprofessional or poorly boundaried. But there are some people i need to step up that extra bit to root for, and my true self is pretty freaking sure this person is one for whom i need to do that.
Happy last day of my own personal season of the dead. V, you have three more hours to go. After that everything will magically change. I'll wake up and there will be universal health care and all those barriers will be gone and you will recover miraculously just in time to get all the resources to keep you well this time. See you in a couple days, yeah?