8. Losses
Chapter eight
Losses
Stanley
Five days later…
I’m starting to understand why Drake feels the way he does. Even with all the work he puts in, it never feels like enough. In my line of work, the best I can hope for is that I’ve made my patients comfortable before they move on from this world.
But that doesn’t make the pain any less.
The nurses are cleaning out the room of Miss Brooks who passed away a few days ago.
I knew it was inevitable from the first day she was brought in here.
Congestive heart failure isn’t something you can ever recover from, and it eats away at you until there’s nothing left.
The only thing that’s keeping most of the pain at bay is Mister Skells being by her side during her final hours.
The flowers he’d brought for her were long since wilted but I don’t think he had the heart to replace them.
I don’t think she much cared either, given how long it’s been since she last had a visitor who wasn’t me.
“Is there... anything I can have?” A quiet voice asks from behind me, heavy with sorrow. Devon Skells stands in the hallway, looking so small and holding his hat in his hands. He looks like he hasn’t slept since the last time he was here.
“I’m...” I casually glance into the room to see if there’s anything the nurses haven’t cleared away yet. I don’t see the harm, since she has no next of kin left in her life.
“There’s her watch.” I swallow against the lump in my throat and pick up the timepiece from the small pile of things she’s left behind. The thin metal band is slightly tarnished from years of being against her skin. It’s cold. From the looks of it, it’s still keeping good time, though.
It’s hard not to contemplate how an entire person’s life can be reduced to such a small pile of things. The things they achieved, the people they met, the challenges they overcame... What did any of it mean if this is all that’s left to remember them by?
“If... if that’s okay.” Devon’s face brightens a little and his eyes start to glisten with held-back tears.
“I insist on it.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.” He folds the band over itself, clips the ends together, and tucks it into the front pocket of the wool jacket he’s wearing.
“Uh, and thanks for taking care of her. I’m not family, but it meant a lot to me to see her being treated with dignity before the end.”
“I should be thanking you,” I reply, and offer my hand. “You being here definitely made her smile a little brighter.”
Devon nods frantically, his eyes averted to the ground. Those tears eventually slip free and he tries to catch them with his sleeve but fails miserably.
I know it’s uncalled for but...
“Is it alright if I hug you?” he asks before I can take the initiative myself. His question couldn’t have made me happier. I don’t want to make things awkward or get myself in trouble.
“It’s quite alright. In fact, I think we both need it right now.”
The man’s small frame feels so frail under my arms, as if he’ll break if I squeeze a little too hard.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t shed a few tears myself.
It’s a brief but much-needed exchange to heal our wounded souls. He thanks me again before leaving.
This might be the last time I ever see him.
After his departure, I take a breather in the bathroom and lock the door behind me so I can have a few minutes. I splash some cold water on my face. As depressing as my line of work is, it’s the moments like the one with Devon Skells that make it worth it.
Because God knows my mother didn’t get the same respect when she was still around. It’s part of the reason why I do what I do.
I quickly dry my face once I’ve composed myself and exit the bathroom.
Seeing that room completely empty now is never going to be easy to see, not with how long Miss Brooks had been here as our patient.
But I know I can’t tie everything up in a little bow and make it a shrine to her memory.
Another patient is going to need it when it’s their turn to need care.
If I were to do that for every patient that I’ve lost, there would be no rooms left in the hospital.
As much as I want to stay here and help out someone else, I don’t think I can take much more of it today.
I need to head home and unwind. Another night of going home to prepare a microwave meal and lose my brain to some mindless TV shows.
It may seem like deflecting to most, but if it helps me to get to sleep at night instead of dwelling on these sour, ugly feelings inside me, then I’ll take it.
...?
What the heck?
In the middle of changing shifts, I see Drake behind the nurse’s station, writing something down.
He knows he’s not supposed to be there; the station is like the nurses’ holy ground.
No one but them is supposed to be behind the desk.
He’s lucky none of them are around because he would be getting an earful already.
“You don’t like your life very much, do you?”
Drake bolts upright and flips the pad over in a hurry.
Now he looks even more suspicious.
“Huh?”
“You know you shouldn’t be back there. You want one of the nurses to gut you alive?”
Drake clears his throat and returns his pen to his pocket.
“I needed a prescription filled and no one was here to fill it for me.”
I glance at my watch.
“They should be here in two minutes. You couldn’t wait that long?”
“No, one of my patients needs it right now,” he replies in a huff and flips the pad of paper back over. I try not to look at it because he’ll know I know. And if he’s being this secretive...
“Hey, look, I’m just following the rules.” I throw my hands up in the air and back away. “Don’t let me stop you.”
The annoyed scowl remains on his face as he finishes writing up his note, rips the paper off, and shoves it into his pocket.
“So how did it go with that woman? Maria, right?”
“Oh...” His expression suddenly changes. “I... don’t want to talk about it.”
That could be a good thing or a bad thing. Either he slept with her and doesn’t want to talk about it or she hasn’t given him the time of day since last week.
If it’s the latter, he’d likely be more mopey about it...
“Yeah, you’re right. None of my business. We still on for golf tomorrow afternoon?”
“Sure.” He leaves without another word and heads in the direction of the pharmacy.
I wait until I no longer hear any footsteps before I grab the pad and a pencil from the cup.
I may not have seen what Drake wrote, but I can easily find out.
I turn the pencil on its side and gently shade over the page on top.
Drake’s heavy handwriting left an impression that I’m starting to make out.
Codeine...?
I pause and glance at the hallway, expecting him to return any second. Nothing.
I rip the page off and shove it into my pocket to throw away at home.