9pm tonight, almost exactly 48 hours after that horrible experience with my ‘roomie’, Boom! Another.
A voice from behind the curtain demands “nurse get me a sleeping tablet – you’re keeping me awake!” “I’m sorry, what can I help you with?” She asks.
“You, because of you I can’t sleep, you’re in here socialising!” She spat. The nurse replied “Ahhh, well no. It’s part of patient care to develop relationships and yes, we have been chatting.” When challenged again, the nurse pointed out it wasn’t that late and it wasn’t unreasonable…also that the patient still had her TV on. “Yes – and it’s LOUD!” She bit back, “to drown out you and Kate.”
What?! She knew my name and used it?!
“Excuse me”, I said “after the other night, this is intolerable.”
She exclaimed at the top of her voice, “but I’M the patient!”
I took a deep breath, but couldn’t help myself, eventually saying “I guess I could politely point out that I am too”. As the nurse reminded us that we had to share the room, I painfully shuffled my butt to the edge of the bed to lean over and reach my new crutches. I went to leave and for the first time saw the lady behind the curtain. I was in complete disbelief that someone could be so unwell, yet find the energy to be so aggressive. As our nurse left, the nurse in charge promptly entered to try and break it up. In a frustrated hobble to the door, I thought to myself, you lady are a seriously nasty piece of work.
Over the past few days I have learned that sadly, her condition is terminal. I am acutely aware of the range of emotions she may be experiencing, fear the one I have overheard her talking about the most. It makes me upset that she appears to be leading such a miserable existence and that her final weeks or months are scarred by this sort of outburst.
As the nurse in charge tried to calm the situation, the woman piped up at me again “You have influence in here…” What?! I said “I beg your pardon?” She raised her voice even louder, “Ohhh don’t say what, I know what I need to say and I’ll do it in the morning….”
This was bullshit. I was out. Unsteady on my feet, I gently swung my broken hip forward and put one leg, then one crutch in front of the other and went to the patient lounge.
Deep in thought over the awful confrontation, and trying to reason that everyone deals with stress differently, I burst into tears when the nurse in charge came in to make sure I was okay. I was shaking.
As I apologised, saying I felt sorry for the nurse looking after us and that I should have left the room without saying anything, the nurse in charge told me she was glad I stuck up for myself. She consoled me with a tub of lime jelly and shared with me some horror stories of abuse and violence from other times in her nursing career. Truly shocking. I now know why there are signs in health care facilities all over saying things like ‘zero tolerance’.
I realised I couldn’t sleep in the lounge and was not looking forward to lying on the other side of the curtain to someone I’m so repelled by. I imagine it might be like being on school camp and having to share a tent or dorm with the class bully.
News travels fast and the rest of the nurses on duty were on it. Many asking if I was alright as my crutches and I slowly clunked our way back to the room.
As I sit here typing away, I’m not so concerned about the tap-tap-tap of my fingers on the keyboard. The smart-arse part of me is tempted to turn the TV on, and crank the volume!
Encore Performances 