Jenny Matlock has done it again, thrown us a slider. This week our assignment is to continue a previous Saturday Centus post - ours or someone else’s - with the usual 100 word limit. Her button is on my sidebar, so check it out. It’s a wonderful writing exercise, and for me this week, a great outlet for anger and frustration and pain.
I am continuing “What I did over my Summer Vacation.” My addition is in bold type. And yes, it is true.
What I did over my Summer Vacation
I went to Miami, not to vacation, but to see to my son, who was bitten by a Brown Recluse spider and nearly lost his hand. I got calls from the mental hospital where he went because he started hearing voices again.
I began my job with Hospice, and after two weeks, I was tossed from the high dive in to the deep end of the pool - ten patients for me to take over. I sweated and ministered and prayed and was prayed over. I did not drown. I’m still swimming and ready for whatever tomorrow brings.
I am grateful.
As my son heals and readjusts, the crippling heat in Georgia continues, and I spend my work days driving from house to house, seeing to my patients. The full moon brought a spate of deaths, most pain free and serene.
One, though, was an agonal and torturous leaving. Her children refused morphine, accused me of trying to kill her with it, insisted I not enter her room without an appointment.
The anguish on that woman’s face will never leave me. She was dead before we could make an appointment that suited her daughter.
She is at peace. And I’m grateful.
This post is linked to Saturday Centus.
Read more at The Red Sweater.
5 years ago
