Dusting off My Boxes

Here’s a glimpse into the memories stored in the depths of my brain from my time spent as a CNA.

Deaths…

…the way your death was Skyped halfway across the world.

…when the nurse cried as she followed orders to give you meds that would eventually make you sleep forever.

…the look of terror on your face when I found you dead on the floor in a crawling position.

…the way you waited to die until your family all stepped out.

…it was you that I first realized I had become used to death.

…finding you had died only minutes before.

Amusing things too…

…how you told me I was too small to have shot a .30-06 rifle. And how you informed me I should always wear ear protection so I wouldn’t end up half deaf like you did from the military.

…when you fell on me and told me you were glad that they had taught you to fall while in the Navy.

…when you threatened to call an ambulance for me and I said to go ahead cuz my dad was on duty that night.

…when you figured that 55+ year age difference was ok for marriage.

…when you told me stories of being a soldier in WWII and how you met your wife on leave.

…how you wouldn’t let me take your blood pressure cuz you figured you’d get Ebola from the cuff.

Scary things…

…being threatened with a knife

…watching a co-worker have bones broken when you went ballistic and we had no way to restrain you.

…having to stop fistfights.

…being threatened with bodily harm if I didn’t let you kill your roommate.

…getting felt up and having to learn how to stand up for myself against sexist remarks and touch.

… having to call the cops because of being scared for my life. Then having my co-workers deny anything happened.

… when you attempted to run me over with your electric chair and then threw your lunch tray so hard it shattered on the floor.

Sad things…

… when you cried because your family abandoned you.

… when you decided death was better than life and tried to hang yourself on the curtain strings.

…wondering if you knew Jesus as you were in the final stages of your life but not being able to speak your language to ask.

But there were happy times…

… when we had an entire conversation by spelling words one letter at a time with sign language.

… watching you get better and stronger and being able to leave on your own two feet.

… watching your undefeated spirit fight the paralysis.

… laughing as we swapped hunting stories during your care.

…when you refused to have any aide except me cuz I was “the best”.

… all the hilarious conversations we had as you tried to teach me how to do Sudoku. {I still can’t do it.}

Sometimes it’s interesting to take down the boxes of memories from my closet, blow the dust off, and remember things from the six and a half years that I was a nurse’s aide. I have so many memories stored up already. And I’m writing down things day by day as I work now as an EMT. Maybe someday I’ll compile a book. Who would read it?

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One comment on “Dusting off My Boxes

  1. I would. šŸ™‚ It sounds like you have some very interesting, moving, deep stories to tell.

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