More Than Words

Chapter 4 - MINIMIZE

MINIMIZE (v.)

1. To reduce or keep to a minimum

2. To underestimate intentionally: Downplay

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Evan

Today has been the Monday to end all Mondays. The fact that I haven't been to work in seven days doesn't help either. My workflow has seriously been thrown off and I feel like I've been trudging through the day like my feet are in concrete. My office mates, who happen to all be physical, occupational, and/or speech-language therapists, are much kinder to me than I am to myself, reminding me that recovering from the flu requires rest. Apparently jumping back into a 10 hour shift does not meet their definition of rest.

This particular shift is almost over, though. Two patient notes stand between me and the comfort of home. Actually, two patient notes stand between me and a playground, dinner from somewhere convenient on the way home, bath time, story time, and then rest.

"Do mine eyes deceive me?" Clara orates dramatically upon entering our shared office pulling a few chuckles from the others in the room. "Cinderella back from the ball? I saw your pumpkin parked in the lot but needed to see you in the flesh to believe it."

"More like cinder-ill-a," I do a little ba-dum-tss air drum, rather proud of my own joke as corny as it may be. "Gracie caught the flu right before me. She refused to eat for two days. For a second there I thought I'd have to admit her."

"Poor baby, and poor mama," Clara sympathizes. She's good like that. As an SLP on the neonatal and craniofacial teams, she's used to seeing babies and parents at their most vulnerable. Her empathy is part of what makes her so amazing at her job, and as a friend.

"Who watched Gracie when you were down for the count?" On the surface her question was innocent, but Clara knows me well enough to know I'd pick up on the subtext. It's not always about what people say, but what they don't. Which is why when I don't say anything in response, I've said everything.

Clara groans empathetically and joins me at our desk while I finalize my last note. "Ev, you should have texted me. I would have come over."

"I know you would have." That was the truth. "It was fine, though. I loaded up on cold & flu meds and rallied."

Clara opened and closed her mouth like she was about to say something but thought better of it again. I know what she was going to say. It's the first thing everyone says to someone in need. But we've been over that before and that situation hasn't changed. It never will.

Just then the office phone rings with the hospital's daycare extension on the caller ID. "Hello, this is Evan," I answer the call.

"Hi, Ms. Zane. Ms. Stevens is here to pick up Gracie. I need consent before I can release her because she's not on the approved list." Morgan, the new girl at the daycare, says meekly.

Clara rolls her lips together to keep from laughing but I just roll my eyes and shake my head. "That's fine, Morgan. Stevie can pick her up. She's listed as 'Auntie Stevie.' I'll be down there in just a minute anyway. Thanks."

"You know Stevie gave her an earful." Clara finally releases the laughter she had been trying so diligently to contain.

"Of that I have no doubt," I laugh along with her. "I better run."

I grab my coat and my bag, give a half hearted wave to my colleagues in the room, and clock out for the day.

The hospital's daycare is a short walk from my office. I can't tell you what a blessing it's been to have childcare in the same building as I work. It was something the union pushed for since hospital staff are considered essential and emergency personnel. Taking the burden of childcare off our shoulders makes things a lot easier.