Jaime

I’m tidying up the med room at the end of the shift when Renee shows up and stands by the door.

“Heading home?” I ask, wiping down the med cart like I’m too busy for small talk.

“Yeah. Brian’s about asleep,” she says, her voice low and heavy.

“Almost seven. You could use a bit of rest too, you know.”

With a tired shrug, she says, “I don’t sleep much anymore. A few hours if I’m lucky.”

I toss the used wipes in the bin and move to the sink. While washing my hands, I say, “Insomnia can be brutal, but sometimes lying still helps your body reset, even if your brain won’t shut off.” I’m not in the mood for another long talk about insomnia; we’ve covered it too many times. I grab the shift report book and start jotting down notes without looking up.

Renee doesn’t pick up on my cue to move along. She locks the brakes on her walker, which she recently started using because of her arthritis, then eases herself onto the seat with a soft 'ouch.'

“Now, with Brian falling again, I can’t sleep at all,” she says.

“Thank God he didn’t get hurt this time.”

“It only happens when certain staff are on shift,” she hisses.

I hesitate, unsure if I should defend Natalie. Usually, no matter what’s going on between us, when a resident or family complains about her, I’ve always had her back because I know how hard she works. But today, I decide to try something different – to fan the flames a little. “I know. I wish she’d take her job more seriously.”

Renee looks surprised at first, not used to me agreeing with her, but then her face lights up, and with a burst of excitement, she says, “I don’t know why she bothers coming in if she doesn’t want to do the work. I almost reported her to the ministry yesterday, but Gerald talked me out of it.”

I snap the book shut, pen clicking in my hand. I meet her eyes and say, “They always do that. But you do what’s best for Brian. No one should stop you from doing that.”

Renee’s voice drops slightly. “If I had the energy, I’d care for him myself. I don’t sleep much anyway, so it wouldn’t be that hard. At least I don’t have memory loss like him. But…” She pauses, blinking back tears. “My body’s not as young as it used to be. Arthritis and all. I’ve started needing the wheelchair now and then.”

I glance at her. She’s in her seventies, but still in good shape. Her hair is curly, short, and full of volume. For her age, her skin is holding up well with only a few wrinkles on her forehead and a bit of drooping around her eyes. She’s slim, has no extra weight around her belly. There’s no slouch in her posture. She even helps a few residents here with eating or activities, especially when Brian takes those afternoon naps. She looks great for her age, but who knows what might be going on underneath it all. You can’t expect to move like you’re thirty when you’re in your seventies.

“I know placing him here was hard, but it was the right decision. At least now he’s getting all the care he needs. You don’t need to feel guilty. You already do so much for Brian and the other residents. That means a lot.” I give her a reassuring smile, then grab the garbage bag, tie it up, and make my way to the larger bin by the nursing station. “Almost time to go home. Natalie will be here soon. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night. See you tomorrow,” Renee says, trying to get up from her chair. It’s tough. She holds her knees and winces from the pain.

“Need a hand?” I offer.

“For sure, dear. Some days are awful,” she says, rubbing her knees.

I help her up, lifting her gently by the underarm. She takes a moment, then slowly turns and heads down the hallway. Just as she walks off, Natalie comes in, looking tired and a bit sluggish. As they cross paths, I notice Natalie looks even more worn out, her steps slow and heavy, more so than Renee’s.

Something’s definitely up with her, I think to myself, noticing her dishevelled appearance. I return to the med room, bracing myself for whatever comes next.