planning on leaving.
“Excuse me?” she sparked.
“I’m not leaving.”
“And why the hell not?”
“You specifically chose me to be your attendant, you should at least let me fulfilling that task.”
Her eyes mystified and a smile lurked on Ms. Clarisse’s face—a smile I have never seen.
“Now I see.” she started. “There is a little someone under that weak, timid, personality of yours.”
It sounds like a compliment, I think. She continued.
“Even if I did pick you out of the crowd, I expected you’d be anything but fond of me.”
“So far, you haven’t given me any reason not to.” I boldly reply.
Ms. Clarisse suddenly asked for iced water. I took this as a good sign and immediately fetched for the nurse. After returning to her room, I took out my notepad from my bag.
“Is there anything you want to me bring from Gilia? Your makeup perhaps—you wear it every day.”
“How did you know I like to wear makeup? You pick up fast child.”
I froze, trying to find an answer to my sudden comment. Ms. Clarisse dismissed it, and mentioned a list of things she wanted me to bring—her makeup included. Given the circumstance of her accident, it’s probably a good thing for Mr. Clarisse to be at a hospital. I can no longer trust the attendants who are randomly assigned to her. A doctor knocked on the side of the wall, he looks startled to see me. Ms. Clarisse didn’t invite him in, instead, she’s looking at me—waiting for me to make a move.
“Come in.” I said.
My fingers crossed, hoping Ms. Clarisse won’t throw a fit. Her expression changed when the doctor entered, her eyebrows started furrowing, and her teeth started to show. The only thing that’s left, is for her to start barking.
“I thought Mr. Müller was here.” stuttered the frightened doctor.
“I didn’t know he was coming.” I answered. “What can I help you with—”
My voiced died, nurse rolled in a wheelchair. The pieces I ignored are starting to come together.
“The electric wheelchair Mr. Müller ordered has arrived. A specialist will be visiting within the next few days for fall prevention, and mobility exercises. I talked with her family doctor, and we decided that your inter-trochanteric fracture is a regular fracture that must be treated with a compression hip screw. While that is pending for approval, we will be doing more examinations to prepare you for surgery—”
“I don’t need to prepare for anything!” Ms. Clarisse suddenly shouted. “Get out—get out!”
The doctor lowers his chart, and leads the stiff nurse out of the room. I have been too preoccupied on the cast on Ms. Clarisse’s arm that I completely forgot about her fractured hip. The nurse mentioned Ms. Clarisse fell, trying to get off her bed. She must have landed on her hip after using her falling arm to catch herself—thus breaking her wrist. The overnight attendants quickly returned to my mind, disappointment and anger is starting to build up in me.
“What are you going to do about those attendants?” I inquired. “If you needed help with anything, they were supposed to be there to assist you. They’re not doing their job, and look where it led you.”
“You’re upset?” she asked.
“Yes!” I sparked “You need to report them to Bradley.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“But that’s what you’re known for doing.” I said.
“When have I fired anyone?” she defended. “Sure, I’m the reason they quit, but Bradley does the firing. He doesn’t have to, but he does—thinks it will make me like him more.”
“What they’re doing is wrong.” I commented. “And you’re still going to pretend it never happened and do nothing about it?”
Admittedly, I don’t know if my rash comments was the correct thing say. As her attendant, I should know my limits to express my opinions. Ms. Clarisse should be telling me to mind my own business, but she’s saying nothing. The room kept silent, her eyes looked away.
Suzanne Woods Fisher, Mary Ann Kinsinger