My Girl
By: Lee Bernier

                “My girl!” She cried out as I approached my desk at the nurse’s station. Ruth was sitting in her wheelchair next to my desk waiting for me to get to work like she always did everyday at three o’clock. After flopping my heavy bag onto the desk, I knelt down to look her eye to eye. “Hi Ruthie, Did you know that today is Independence Day? “  She grabbed my hand in hers, looking confused and said “Make it good”.
                Most of the residents on the Alzheimer’s unit where I worked did not remember the meaning of the holiday; they enjoyed their dinner outside under the sun.  The fresh air was a blessing to them, and they cherished every moment they were able to spend outside of the unit. They loved being dressed alike in patriotic colors, having American flags to hold or drape on the back of their wheelchairs, and the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers sizzling on the grill. Ruth however, had no idea that today was different than any other day.
                I had met Ruth when I was a student in nursing school.  At that time, she was able to walk on her own and immediately took interest in me. Anywhere I went, Ruth followed as my shadow.  She always called me her “girl”.  On my last day at the nursing home as a student, I wrapped my arms around her as she gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek.  I promised her I would come back to visit, but I never did.
                Three years later, I returned to the Alzheimer’s unit, as a charge nurse.  I was being introduced to staff on my first day when an elderly woman in a wheelchair headed straight for me. “My girl!” she shouted from down the hall. It was Ruth. The staff looked at me with surprise. I explained to them that I had met Ruth a few years before. They later explained to me that Ruth recently had not even recognized her children when they came to visit her.
                Nurses shouldn’t have favorites, but I couldn’t help it; Ruth was mine.  In early June, Ruth started to become more confused by the day.  She was less alert and spent most of her time sleeping. But Something was different this fourth of July, she was wide awake. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled as if it were Christmas morning. When her family called and asked about her condition, they were surprised when told that she was doing especially well this day.
                When it was time for dinner, I set my work aside and assisted the staff by wheeling and walking residents outside  where we had set up picnic tables. I walked around helping each resident dress their hamburgers and feeding those who could not feed themselves. You could see the joy on their faces as they ate their dinners. They savored every bite, knowing tomorrow the food wouldn’t be as great. After dinner we served homemade ice cream. Ruth ate several cups of ice cream and we were all very surprised by her new appetite.
                It wasn’t long before the night sky arrived. The air was warm and the stars were bright. We had arranged all of the residents in the front parking lot looking toward the building. Later that night, over the roof of the nursing home, we would be able to see the fireworks from the Justice Center next door.  I nestled into a lawn chair next to Ruth on the cooling pavement of the parking lot. Families were visiting and children playing. “Look at that young tot, honey! Isn’t she cute?” Ruth said as some children ran by with sparklers waving in the air.
                The fireworks began shortly after it was completely dark. Loud sounds of pops, bangs, and booms filled the night sky along with bright colorful patterns. You could hear residents gasp between explosions. Ruth was silent as she squeezed my hand.  I watched as her eyes widened, you could see the reflection of the fireworks and sparkles in her eyes. I had paperwork piled on my desk and medications to pass, but my mind set aside these worries, though I didn’t know it was my last moment with Ruth.
“Oh honey, that was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen” Ruth proclaimed as I tucked her into bed for the night. “Goodnight Ruthie, I’ll see you tomorrow” I said as I kissed her on the forehead and quietly left the room.  I heard a whispered “I love you” as I was closing the door.  The fireworks indeed were beautiful, but it was time to get back to work. I sat at my desk thinking how nice it was that Ruth had managed to stay awake and alert for the events.
                The next day I came to work, and flopped my heavy bag on the desk. This time there was no greeting from my dear friend. The halls were too quiet, and something felt very different. I turned to the other nurse. “Ruth passed away last night in her sleep” she told me. Overcome with sadness, I felt upset that I was not able to be with her when she passed. The idea of her dying alone made my heart sink deep into my stomach. Then I remembered how she held my hand as we watched the fireworks that night, not letting me go for even a second. I remembered how she glowed as she gazed at the spectacular light show in the sky, as if she knew she was going home. She was not alone.
                It was hard to adjust to work without Ruth in the following weeks of her death. I no longer had a shadow following me up and down the halls. In my mind now I can hear her calling me her “girl” and the way she would always thank me anytime I did the smallest thing for her. At her funeral I met her children. They thanked me for taking care of her during the end of her life and hugged and held me tight as they cried. I only had Ruth to thank. Her time with me was a confirmation that I was on the right path and doing what I loved best, caring for people who only had love to give back.

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