Blackout (2 page)

Alice appeared bewildered. “Dr. Henderson did a physical and said I’m free of communicable…” She stumbled over the word. “…disease, and he gave me all my shots and a Tine test for TB.” Alice looked down at her hands for a moment. “And I lost my wallet. Plus I don’t have a birth certificate or Social Security card. I didn’t bring them from home when I left, and my folks have moved. I don’t know where they are…” She stared out the window.

Betty couldn’t tell if she meant she didn’t know where her parents were or her papers. She sighed again, sorry for the girl, a bit sorry for herself. They did need the help, and Donald had asked her specifically. She liked Donald. She liked the girl.

“Okay.” She crossed her fingers underneath the desk. “You have Donald help you get the necessary records. You can start tomorrow, full time. Come in at seven in the morning. Report to Jenny Hicks in the reception area. She’ll give you papers to fill out and show you an orientation video tape. Then we’ll have one of the other aides take you around for a few days until you understand the routine. If you have any questions or concerns, my door is always open. Any questions now?” Betty looked at the papers on her desk. “Oh, yes, pay is minimum wage, and benefits. Jenny will explain them to you.” Betty stood up and held out her hand. Alice seemed surprised and rose to shake it briefly, then turned to go, murmuring thanks.

As Alice left, the assistant director of nurses rushed into the office. “Wanda’s here and the rest of the inspection team from home office.”

“Damn.” Betty frowned. “I wasn’t excepting them for another two weeks. How is everything, Rita?”

“No major disasters today. We’ll do okay.” Betty was glad to hear the confidence in her tone.

“Is Katherine in?” Betty hoped the administrator hadn’t left the building on one of her unexplained errands.

Rita nodded. “She’s around. Jenny’s looking for her.”

“Well,” Betty said, “let’s go meet the inspection team.” As they left the office, they saw Lettie. Her sash had come undone and trailed out of a loop on the back of her housedress. Betty noticed she needed another new pair of slippers. She shuffled along all day and wore out a pair quickly.

“Do you know me?” The “me” ended on a high, extended note. Her eyes were blank brown, her snow-white hair in a bun on top of her head. She was short and had a figure like that of the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“Of course we do, Lettie,” Betty and Rita said together. Rita adjusted the resident’s belt. Lettie nodded, stared piercingly at them a moment, then turned around and shuffled down the hall.

They headed for the central nurses’ rotunda near the front of the building. Two nurses were charting, and residents continually paraded by, some using walkers, canes, or wheelchairs. Betty felt a slight tremor of apprehension about the inspection. Silly, she knew. But several department heads had been fired at other company-owned centers last year right after the inspectors left.

Betty and Rita met Wanda, the nursing inspector, in the hall. She looked the same as last year—a large-boned woman of early middle age, she was energetic and pleasant. Everyone shook hands, then headed for the offices in the old part of the building where there would be a brief meeting with all the department heads to explain this year’s changes in the inspection process. Out of the corner of her eye, Betty thought she saw Alice Strong leaving Mrs. Jenkins and Mrs. Smith’s room near the end of the hall. But that didn’t make sense. Surely Alice had left the building by now. Betty shook her head and quickly forgot about it as she turned her attention to Wanda.

Katherine arrived, breathless. A small woman with a curvy figure and a pretty, round face, she made Betty feel almost gangly despite her medium height and build. Betty knew men found Katherine attractive and wanted to protect her. As administrator, she played on that desire with great expertise. Betty thought Katherine would be a regional director within the next five years and would perhaps even make vice president someday.

Katherine’s birdlike voice welcomed the inspection team formally to her center. “I’ve notified the regional director, regional nurse, and regional dietitian that you’re here, and they’re driving over from Sacramento. If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”

After they broke into departmental groups, Betty took Wanda to her office. Wanda explained what she needed for the nursing inspection this year, and they went out on the floor to check charts and residents.

Wanda examined several records, then pointed out a trend of bedsores acquired in-house. Out of ten charts, six had new sores.

“Do you know me?” Lettie planted herself in front of them and looked from one to the other.

Both nurses smiled. They both told her they knew her, and she drifted back down the hall.

“How many times a day does she ask that question?” Wanda said.

“A hundred, at least,” Betty replied. “She doesn’t seem too disturbed, though. Just a little anxious. Used to be a math teacher, you know. I heard she was brilliant.”

Wanda shook her head. “How old is she, anyway?”

“Fifty-eight. A couple of weeks ago she had a birthday party.” Betty hid a shudder. She was only thirteen years younger than Lettie. It made her want to work harder, to do everything well. Who knew how many good years anyone had left?

“Early-onset Alzheimer’s?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a shame,” Wanda murmured and they bent their heads to a new chart she had opened. “See, here’s another. Three centimeters. Betty, what’s going on? Let’s go check on some of these folks.”

Betty felt that twinge of fear again. Not for herself so much as for her residents.

The first resident was Mrs. Wood. She lay on her side in good position, hands curled into fists around rolled terry hand towels. The tubes going in and out of her were clear. Wanda checked the bags and nodded her approval.

“Mrs. Wood?”

No reply. Wanda gently touched her hand.

“She’s totally unresponsive,” Betty said.

“All right.” Wanda moved the bedclothes away. She checked Mrs. Wood carefully and found the bedsore on her heel. She measured it, made a note in her book, and they left the room.

They could smell rotting flesh as they entered the next room. Gray eyes followed them as they moved inside. Miss Hollander was thin, very thin. She appeared alert.

Betty said, “This is Wanda Menninger, Lucy. She’s come to visit you.”

Lucy nodded.

“How do you do?” Wanda asked.

Lucy nodded.

“Is it all right if I look at your sore?”

Lucy nodded.

First Wanda checked the chart. A loss of six pounds since admittance two months ago.

“Are you getting enough to eat?” Wanda asked.

Lucy nodded.

Gently, Wanda moved the sheet away from Lucy’s body. The decubitus ulcer on her hip was a big sore, oozing through the dressing. “I want to watch this one get changed, Betty.”

Betty nodded and checked the time written in pen right on the dressing. “Another hour.”

They left the room.

“Your mother still here?” Wanda asked.

“Yes.” Betty sighed. “Same condition. Paralyzed from the shoulders down, perfectly fine from the shoulders up. Never stops talking or complaining.”

Wanda snorted. “I’d complain myself if I were in her condition.”

“Yeah. I probably would, too. Drives me crazy sometimes though.”

“I’ll bet. Well, let’s go say hello.”

Betty appreciated Wanda’s kindness, and they went to Betty Senior’s room down the hall.

Betty always paused in the doorway a moment. She didn’t think she’d ever get over the shock of seeing her mother so helpless. A once-vigorous woman, she could now only turn her head a little in either direction. She hadn’t lost much weight, and her face was entirely mobile. It seemed as if she might get up at any moment, announcing it had all been a cruel joke. Round brown eyes under a cap of steel-gray hair watched the television, which was placed on a high shelf across from the bed.

Her hearing was still sharp, and before Betty or Wanda said anything, Betty Senior turned her head toward them. “There you are!” she exclaimed. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day. Here I lie, unable to move a muscle, and you don’t even take a moment out of your day to visit me. Oh, Wanda, I didn’t see you at first. How nice of you to come by. Inspecting this place, huh? I’d be interested to know what you find. Of course the aides take good care of me—I’m related to the director of nurses. Ha!”

“Are you out of breath yet, Ma?” Betty asked.

“A comedian, I raised a comedian! You have a smart mouth, Betty, and someday it’s going to get you into trouble. Big trouble. No wonder you haven’t found a husband or moved up in the company. You need to watch that, especially around important people. Right, Wanda?”

“I haven’t gone anywhere so I can keep an eye on you, Ma. How would you like it if I traveled all the time like Wanda? You complain now about not seeing enough of me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, Wanda, are you going to check me over?”

Wanda smiled and nodded. Slowly and carefully, she checked every part of Betty Senior, murmuring her appreciation at the skin tone, the positioning, and the evidence of good nutrition.

“Your appetite good?” she asked.

“My one pleasure is eating. When I can no longer enjoy that, put me away like a sick dog.”

“Aw, Ma. You have two pleasures. The other one is talking.”

“If I could, daughter, I’d throw something at you.”

“I’ll bet you would. Well, we’d better go so you can rest.”

“Bah. That’s all I do. But it was good of you to come by, Wanda. Don’t be too hard on my daughter, now. See you next year.”

“You sure will, Mrs. Cranston. Enjoy your lunch.” An aide brought in a lunch tray as they left.

“Do you know me?” Lettie asked outside the room.

“Yes, Lettie. We know who you are,” Betty said absently. “How does Betty Senior appear to you, Wanda? You only see her once a year, so you’d notice any changes better than I would.”

“About the same, Betty. Really, I didn’t see any difference.”

“Good.”

They stepped into Mrs. Jenkins and Mrs. Smith’s room. Mrs. Smith was out, but Mrs. Jenkins lay on her bed, on top of the covers, fully dressed. Her hands were folded over her stomach, and Betty felt a lurch in her gut. The woman looked as if she were laid out for her own funeral.

Wanda approached. “Mrs. Jenkins?” No response. She tried again and touched a shoulder.

She snatched her hand back and covered her mouth. “Betty, I think she’s gone.”

“Oh, no,” Betty cried.
Not during an inspection,
she thought, then chided herself for considering her own problems at a time like this. She felt for a pulse at the throat, then pushed the call-light button.

When an aide appeared, Betty asked, “Is Dr. Henderson in the house by any chance?”

The aide glanced at Mrs. Jenkins, then quickly turned away. “I’ll check. I haven’t seen him.”

No matter how often we see it, Betty thought, we never get used to it. Mrs. Jenkins had been one of the nicer residents, usually cheerful except when the arthritis became really bad. Betty felt a need to sit down but decided she shouldn’t show weakness in front of Wanda. She fought back her tears.

Wanda had started examining the body. “Do you think you should do that?” Betty asked.

“Why not? I’m a trained nurse. She’s cold, you know. Been dead a while. Did she usually lie like this on top of the covers and with her hands in this position?”

“No, I don’t remember that she did.”

“Odd,” Wanda said.

Dr. Henderson stepped into the room. “I got here a few minutes ago. Nancy told me about Mrs. Jenkins.”

The two nurses moved aside while the doctor listened to the resident’s chest. “She’s gone,” he said as he put away his stethoscope. “You can call the family, Betty.”

“She didn’t have any left, poor lady. What do you think happened, Doctor? She hadn’t complained of anything at all lately.”

“Heart attack. No question.”

“Okay, I’ll notify the funeral home. She’d set up some prior arrangement if I remember right.”

After they left the room, Betty turned and looked back a moment. The positioning of the body looked macabre. Suddenly she remembered Alice Strong leaving the room about an hour ago. A feeling of uneasiness overcame her, and she chided herself for being foolish.

Old people died in nursing homes all the time.

Of course they did.

The next morning Alice arrived at Merry Hills, sleepy-eyed, at seven o’clock. After filling out paperwork, Jenny put her in a room to watch vidoes about resident care and safety. Then she met Nancy, the woman assigned to orient her. Noise and confusion greeted them when they left the lobby. Carts and wheelchairs grumbled along the tile floor on squeaky wheels. A strange smell of disinfectant and old bodies assaulted Alice’s nose. The hallway Nancy led Alice down had none of the original building’s grace and grandeur.

“We have an inspection team from home office here today,” Nancy said. “They’ll be here tomorrow, too. That means we have to hurry to answer call lights and to get everything else done. We always start new hires on the easy-care hall.” Her voice began to sound like a recording. “The residents there can get around, feed themselves, toilet themselves, and so on.” Her tall frame moved quickly down the hall. Big blond hair piled on top of Nancy’s head made Alice wonder if it would topple any minute as she rushed to keep up.

“Here we are.” Nancy pointed to room 210. “I’ve already done from the end of the hall to this room while you filled out those forms and watched the orientation video.”

Alice nodded.

“Hello, Mrs. Walenski,” Nancy greeted the woman in the room. “How are you today?”

“Hello, dear. I’m fine.” Mrs. Walenski sat in a wing-back chair next to her bed. The other bed was empty.

“Where’s your roommate?” Nancy asked.

“She went to play Bingo. Such a boring game. The prizes stink, too. I’d rather sit here and knit this afghan.”

Alice suppressed a giggle, feeling nervous and invisible.

“Well, go right ahead. We’ll change your bed.” After they changed both beds, they left the room, saying good-bye to Mrs. Walenski.