337: Roxanne’s Wisdom

“Sorry that the bathroom’s so small,” Ever said.

“There is such a thing as over-apologising, you know.” Roxanne, Zoe’s registered nurse, didn’t look at Ever when she said this. She only had eyes for Zoe, who she was washing in the shower. Making sure that one hand held Zoe at all times keeping her in an upright position, the other held a squishy sponge lathered with gentle soap.

“Sorry… I mean…”

Roxanne could only chuckle. Ever didn’t mind her gentle ribbing, it was better than the judgemental looks he got in the hospital. Word had travelled fast about the country’s – maybe the world’s – first Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease patient who was also pregnant. He tried to ignore the doctors’ and nurses’ whispers whenever he pushed her down the hall.

He peered over Roxanne’s shoulder; Zoe’s baby belly at 18 weeks was so much more prominent now.

“Are you making sure that she’s getting enough nutrition?” Roxanne said, sensing his presence behind her.

“I just started blending up food for her last week,” Ever said.

“What sort of food?”

Here, Ever paused. The question made him think of the money he had earned scooping ice cream an eternity ago; it had almost been depleted.

“Eggs, beans, rice…” Ever thought for a moment. “Salad leaves…”

“Good. And for the baby?”

“I’m blending in supplements: folic acid,” Ever said, remembering what Dr. Ramirez had written down, “calcium, vitamin D and…”

“Iron is always good too,” Roxanne added. “Come, lift her up, let’s dry and dress her now.”

Even though he had only worked with her for a few weeks, Ever felt that they worked well as a team. She was sharp at times but never at him. She made him feel useful, which he appreciated her immensely for.

Zoe had fallen asleep as they finished dressing her. Ever tucked her in and together they left the room, leaving the door slightly open. He checked the kitchen and the living room; Mimi once again was not in the house. He left himself a mental note: Mimi needs your time too.

“I’d best be off,” Roxanne said, zipping up her bag and hoisting it onto her back. “I’ll see you later in the week.”

“Before you go, could I ask a question?” Ever said.

“Fire away.”

“How do you mentally prepare for your patients dying?”

The deep crease in the middle of the nurse’s forehead softened. “It used to upset me,” she said quietly. “One week, I’d see the patient who I’d basically become friends with, the next they would be gone. I thought the problem was that I would get too attached, so I tried not caring, but that felt wrong.

“What I’ve found works is just being in the moment. That is its own sort of caring. You’re not pre-mourning their death, you’re not cutting off the loveflow to your heart. You’re… there. Right there with them.”

She glanced back at the door to the bedroom and lowered her voice.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Ever leaned into the shorter woman. “I’m glad you took over from Roman. That guy was always distracted. You look like you’re completely here.”