The Night Shift
The first snow fell at the end of October, and amazingly, it also turned out to be the first major storm of the season. Tree branches were weighed down with wet snow, so that some of them were even touching the ground. I think by late evening there was at least 10 inches on the ground, and the snow still kept slowly piling up. Even though they tried very hard, the plow trucks couldn’t keep up with nature and clean the roads fast enough; so the ride that usually takes me about 5 minutes took a whole 15 that night. I got out of the car and ran to the back door of the building through the parking lot that was heavily covered with a thick blanket of blinding white snow. From the side I looked like I was trying to cross a shallow river jumping from one stone to another to prevent my clothes from getting wet.
The time clock showed it was a quarter after eleven - I was late. I took off the leather jacket I was wearing and underneath I had on a light blue Gap tee-shirt and a comfortable pair of white cotton pants. I prefer wearing tee-shirts and cotton pants to work instead of scrubs, since even the smallest size of them looks like the largest on me, and I am very conscious of how comfortable I feel in my clothes. The bottoms of my pants and my feet inside the clogs I was wearing were cold and damp from running through the snow. My long dark brown hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and the dark circles under my eyes were matching my mood. I felt tired and a bit irritated, I could say I was simply exhausted because I had already worked 44 hours that week. The only thing I dreamed of was crawling under my three warm blankets and going to sleep for the next 24 hours without being disturbed. But I already promised my friend Birsen that I would work with her that Friday night. I should admit though, that it was quite comforting to find out that we were fully staffed, which rarely happens, and the full moon was a week away. Everybody working at the nursing home knows what full moon brings to the facility - somehow it disrupts the residents’ physiological cycle, especially of those with mental diseases like Alzheimer’s, and there’s hardly a quiet minute on the nights like that.
So there I was, standing at the Nurses station with a bag of “Almond Joys” in one hand and a can of cola in the other and hoping for a peaceful night. The charge nurse went through my assignment sheet - nothing extraordinary - a few patients with cold symptoms; Mrs Warner was on comfort care; and Mr Hinder was congested since the morning. By 1:30 a.m. I had finished my first check, took all the required temperatures and was about to do the necessary skin treatments, when Mr Hinder’s call bell rang. I found him sitting at the edge of the bed, holding his walker in front of himself. “ Hello,” he said, “ I didn’t want to bother you and I know you are busy, but for some reason I feel weak tonight and falling is not on my list of things to do. Would you, please, help me to get to the bathroom?”
“Sure, Mr Hinder, that’s what I’m here for,” I replied cheerfully, and helped him to the bathroom. Later I brought him some tea with artificial creamer and “Sweet&Low”(just the way he likes it), because he couldn’t get back to sleep right away.
I was not particularly close to Mr Hinder, but I really liked him and had a lot of respect for him. I thought he was in his late 70s until I pulled up his chart and found out he was 93. He was a tall man - probably six foot two and in a fairly good physical shape for his age. Also, Mr Hinder was a very independent man and almost didn’t require any assistance with daily tasks, so I wasn’t even sure why he ended up at the nursing home. I hoped it was for some sort of a rehabilitation purpose. During the day, you would find him sitting in his huge dark green leather recliner with a copy of “Adirondack Daily Enterprises” in his hands. When you stopped by to say hello, he would look up at you through the thick gold framed glasses and smile. His dressing style was immaculate - the colors of his shirts, pants and jackets would always match and every night, before going to bed, he made sure to fold everything neatly and put them away. I didn’t see much of him during the day, because I work at night, but I knew from the assistants that worked the day shift, that most of the day Mr Hinder spent in his room behind the closed door. He wouldn’t go to the main dining room, as most of the residents did, instead he’d eat all the meals in his room. Only twice a day would he get out of the room to walk along the hallways with a rolling walker in order to get some exercise. Otherwise he kept to himself and the only visitors he had were his daughter Charlotte, his granddaughter and the Golden Retriever Allie.
Mr Hinder had hard times sleeping, he would wake up in the middle of the night and would not be able to fall back asleep for hours. On a few
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