“Have you seen the charts for this month?” I heard Matron say to one of the nurses as I went on my rounds.
“No I haven’t why?”
“They are way higher than ever before. The Dean is worried about them, no one know what’s up.”
I know I shouldn’t laugh but the conversations still amuse me. I find it funny how the doctors think that they help the patients, despite all of their training they still don’t know how to ease the patients from pain. They don’t understand the patients, they don’t understand me either. I’m just another nurse to them. Another face in the staff room. But to the patients, I’m their comfort. I reassure them that they will be okay; that their pain isn’t as bad as they may think. I’ve always been like that, even at the last hospital I worked at. I made sure all of my patients were satisfied. I would get them drinks; help them up if they couldn’t manage it themselves. I would help them keep clean to avoid bed sores; they are in enough pain already. I go to help them every day and wash them thoroughly, not like the other nurses they just give them a quick wash and don’t care about the cleanliness of the patients.
They don’t know how helpful I have been, me and my special concoction have done the patients more good than those doctors. They don’t know what they are doing here. The last hospital I worked was the same. The doctors, for all of their training, couldn’t set the patients free. Not like I can. The same thing happened before that. I don’t stay in one place long, especially where I am not appreciated.
I have always been this way, ever since I was young. I’ve always had this calling; call it my vocation in life. I’d always find animals that needed help. If there was a dog with a broken leg or a weak bird, I’d take them home and make things better for them. They would be pain free in no time.
The next patient that I am visiting is an old lady called Vera. She’s always struggled through life; she was made an orphan at a young age and was never adopted. She never married and therefore never had children. She doesn’t have any visitors. Not like Peter that was in the room across the corridor. He had lots of money and it showed. He always had his family with him, not that they took much notice of him. They were always arguing amongst themselves; probably just wanted to be guaranteed something in his will. His room always had fresh flowers and presents from visitors and so called well-wishers, and he always got the most attention from the doctors. Not that they helped, his family always fussed about something. They caused him unneeded anguish on top of the pain he was already feeling. I felt for him. He needed help. His family argued about his will and who deserved the most of his money. Why? There was enough to go round. They didn’t even thank me for making his time here comfortable. I didn’t get anything; not even a bunch of flowers. It’s no wonder that the poor man was stressed out. His family were unbearable.
Vera, on the other hand, is lovely; she always thanks me and has a kind word for everyone, including the useless doctors. She’s hiding her sadness. They say she’s too ill to go back home; she can’t look after herself. They’ve found her a room at the council old age pensioner’s home, but she doesn’t want to go there. It will take away her freedom she says, she doesn’t want to lose that. I know a way to get that freedom back. Not to be a burden or to depend on anyone; to be free.
Walking into her room, I am taken aback at how frail and ill she appears. Her skin is almost as white as the sheets covering her and her slight frame looks like a doll’s in the large hospital bed. She stirs as the door sighs shut and slowly lifts her eyes to me.
“Hello dear.” Her voice is a whisper. I lower myself down to hear her.
“Vera, Vera, do you remember our little talk about that place? The place you can go? To be free. You want your freedom, don’t you? No worries. Freedom. Do you want me to take you there? I can take you there now if you’d like, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Vera nods. Just a faint nod, but I saw it. It was a nod.
I stood up and put my hand in my pocket, but wait. I fear the sound of silent running. I must check. I can’t make the same mistake again. Poor Dr Clarke, he was nice, very over weight but he was a good man. He would have had a heart attack anyway sometime soon. Even without the adrenalin. How was I to know he was working that day? They were always changing the rotas.
I check the door and then pull the syringe from my tabard pocket. This is my patient’s saviour; this small vessel of liquid will free her. She will be in no more pain thanks to this small syringe. Inserting the needle into Vera’s cannula, I reassure her one last time. “Everything will be fine. I’m here, I’m here now.”
