The Color of Power

“You’re mean”

“I know”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch, that’s all you err do”

“I know Pat”

“Just get owww here you black nigger”

Dang, Pat is on a roll tonight.  

She’s mad at me because she’s wet herself, and I’ve requested she change her own clothes.

I’ve never heard such derogatory language come from her, but I found it comical because I’m so white, I’m almost transparent.

“I not going back to sleep!”


“I gonna stay up all night!!”

“If you say so”

She’s trying to find just the right button to push so that I’ll get mad with her.

She’s usually one of my favorite patients, but tonight, she’s on one.

I don’t smile, but I’m laughing on the inside because she’s reminding me so much of my three year old Goddaughter.

“Get oww here you dirty nigger”

“Okay, change your clothes first” I request for about the thousandth time

“I not going to! I gonna stay up all night!!”

“You need to change your clothes”

“You’re mean! Get oww of here you black nigger”


I’ve got other patients to attend to, and she is pressing me right now.

“Pat, if you don’t change your clothes, I’m not gonna sit in here and be your friend”

“You won’t be my friend?!”

She looks alarmed all of the sudden

“No, I won’t.  You’re not doing what I asked, and you’re being mean to me”

“You’re being mean!!”

“Okay Pat, you’ve got your clothes.  I’m leaving the room.  If you’re going to be this way, we will not be friends right now.  I’m leaving”

“Noooooooo!! Don’t leeeeee me!! I be good!”

“Are you going to change your clothes like a big girl?”

“Yess, I be a big girl! You be my friend?”

“If you quit being hateful to me, and change your clothes, I will sing you a song”

“Okayyyyyy” she says as if I’m the one exasperating her.

“You be my friend?” She asks as she starts to shed her wet clothes

“Yes, if you change your clothes like a big girl, I will be your friend” I say as I use the bath wipes to wipe her down

“I be a big girl.  You sing me a song?”

“Yes I will sing you a song, but then I  have to go take care of Felicia”

“Okay” She agree’s.

Finally, she gets herself dressed after the trying 20 minutes we’ve just spent getting to this point.

“Okay I done. I be a big girl”

“Okay get back in bed and I’ll sing you a song”

“Okay!!” She exclaims, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Hush little baby don’t say a word, Momma’s gonna buy you a mocking bird…”

She sings the song with me.  What she knows of it anyway.

I finish the song and say “Okay! That’s it!”

“That’s it!!” She says

“Yay!!” I exclaim

She claps her hands and says “Yayyyyy!”

“Alright Pat, can you go to sleep for me now?”

“Yes, I go sleep.  You my friend?” she asks, worried, now that she’s in a better mood.

“Yes Pat, I’m your friend”

“You be here in tha mornin’?”

“Yes, I’ll see you in the morning”


We do a couple of more “Yayyy’s” and then I’m finally able to leave her room.

Pat is in her sixties, but has the mentality of a four year old.  

It’s often trying to deal with her temper tantrums, because she’s as big as I am, and doesn’t seem to realize it.

I’ve managed to somehow piss off my night nurse.  I really can’t stand this woman.

Everything is about her being in the spotlight.  In our downtime, you often hear the drama of her life, which really doesn’t sound like drama at all, only she’s making it that way.

She makes the worst jokes, and most intellectually challenged remarks, then looks at you to make sure you’re laughing. 

If you’re not, (and I don’t), she makes sure the rest of your night is hell.

She used to be an aide herself, but became an LPN several months ago.  

Now she seems to think she’s some sort of upper management that can say or do as she pleases.

Power trip I guess, but I dislike it.. and her.

She spends a majority of the night crying about her boyfriend, or whether or not to trade in her oversized truck, and then treats everyone like shit.

She’s really pushed my buttons, and I’m almost to the point where I want to find employment elsewhere.

I do my job well, and I don’t need the extra nonsense.

I am one of the few who refuses to talk about her home life.

She probably doesn’t even know I have kids, or a life outside of work.

She has nothing she can hold over me, because my personal life stays private, and far, far away from her.

I have to work with her again tonight.

Needless to say, I’m not looking forward to it.

Pray for me.


3 thoughts on “The Color of Power”

  1. Ugh… the night nurse sounds lovely (no, not really).
    I don’t know how you do what you do! You’ve got an amazing bedside manner. I can be impatient… even when one of my kids scrape a knee. I hope that your next night goes better for you.

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