The night has been long, and overly busy. I’m just exhausted.
She doesn’t move quickly, and sometimes getting her to the bathroom takes half an hour.
It’s coming to the end of my shift, and all I can think about is my bed.
The call light buzzes.
Brenda has needed the bathroom several times tonight.
I sigh heavily, and head down the hallway.
Her room is also farthest from the bathroom.
I get her shoes on, slide her around, and help her get up into her wheelchair.
She demands that she get up when and where she can, on her own.
I respect this.
“I had tea at supper tonight Miss R. It’s just causing me all kinds baff room breaks tonight”
“That’s okay, I wasn’t doing anything else”
While she’s mentally slow, she still has a lot of her wits about her.
I suspect she was very strong willed back in her day.
I pull her chair up to the railing by the toilet.
I wait. and wait. and wait. While she gets her disfigured legs moving to where she can stand up on her own.
It’s a long slow process.
“Oh I was sleeping so good, and then I wake up needin’ to use the baff room again”
“I don’t know what sleep is anymore”
“I know that’s right. You be runnin’ these halls all night long huh?”
“You know I do. You’ve seen me a hundred times tonight” I say with a smile.
She laughs her good hearty laugh.
I’m grouchy because I didn’t sleep well the day before my shift, and I’m on my fourth night straight knowing I have a night off coming the minute I clock out.
I’m in a hurry to get home.
I wait. and wait. and wait. and wait. for her to finish.
I get her back in her chair and wheel her down the hallway, listening to her wonder aloud about what they may be having for breakfast.
We get to her room, and I pull up her walker and wait for her to get up.
and wait. and wait. and wait.
But she doesn’t move.
“What’s she waiting on” I wonder to myself.
So I wait. and wait. and wait.
She’s just sitting there.
Finally she says “You need to take my shoes off”
It dawns on me that it’s morning, and she’s ready to get up and get herself dressed.
“Brenda, I was sitting her waiting for you to get back in bed. I wondered what the heck we were doing”
“I didn’t wanta be rude Miss R, but I was sittin’ here wonderin’ what you was a waitin’ on”
“Oh boy, see what happens to me when I’m tired?” I laugh
“You was a waitin’ on me, and I was a waitin’ on you.”
She finds this hilarious and laughs until tears come streaming down her face.
Her laugh causes me to laugh, and soon our laughs dwindle down to us sounding like giggling schoolgirls.
I realize then, that it’s the little things that make our days.
I was grouchy, ready to go home, and now I’m laughing so hard my gut hurts.
There isn’t much to be happy about in Brenda’s world, but she manages to find many things to laugh about (usually me 🙂 )
My world is full of many little things I should be more thankful for.
I’m thankful for Brenda.
She reminds me that little things matter the most.