The Story Continues: A Ray of Light

Ezek. 37:1 “The hand of the Lord was upon me, and carried me out in the spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley which was full of bones,”

A Ray of Light

Darkness had fallen upon the nursing home after my husband and son left, when from around the curtain to my left rolled in a woman. 

“Whatcha doin? My name ith Ray, I’m your roommate.”
“Hi Ray, nice to meet you.”
“What time do you go to thleep?” she said in her lispy voice.
“About nine.”
“Me too. Do you like it dark?”
“Yes, I don’t mind the dark,” I said with a smile.
“I like the curtainth clothed, do you?”

Ray was a bit older than me at sixty-three but had the mind of a child. I’ll say a fifteen-year-old because she did have some intelligence as I got to know her over the next ten days. She too was immobile and needed a mechanical lift to get her in and out of bed. She had bulging blue eyes and the electric smile of innocence. Her gray hair was manly, tight and straight but well kept. She told me over and over how she loved purple and everything purple as she pointed to her pajamas. She would be one of the elements of light that God shined down on me. 

The first night I was there my dinner came at seven-thirty. To me, it was almost time for bed but I was hungry. I had not eaten since lunchtime (twelve o’clock) that day. I think my first meal was Salisbury steak with a biscuit and mashed potatoes and a small glass of water. Water, water was scarce for the next couple of days.

I brought with me a big thirty-two-ounce cup of water from the hospital. The hospital gives them to patients and well since I was so toxic, it isn’t like the cup could be reused. I took little sips because I did not look forward to peeing in this place. I could not yet put the dinner tray over both of my legs, so it was at an awkward slant over my right leg. The trauma of anything touching my wounded leg scared me to bits. I didn’t cover it in a blanket because the slightest brush of anything left me with a tinge of pain. 

My medication was due at seven and had not yet arrived and at eight-thirty when Ray pushed the button for the nurse, I asked when I would be receiving my meds. The young nurse said the ‘pill tray’ was on its way down the hall. I asked if she could help me to the commode after she was done with Ray and she said yes, finishing up placing Ray in bed with the ‘lift’, she said, “I’ll be right back in a minute.” And she left the room. 

She came back to the room at nine-fifteen with another young nurse and they were both wearing yellow protective coverings and gloves, in one hand was a gait belt. The gait belt was placed around my waist and it was used to help lift my tiny eight-eight pound body. One nurse to my right and one to my left hand, both had hands gripped on my pained hips in a two-foot space, they lifted. I always counted so we could be in sync. One, two, three, lift, small grunt, and pivot. Imagine three women in a two-foot space trying to pivot. The gait belt was a necessity so as to avoid liability in anything breaking.

“Please, hold the belt until I’m completely seated. This is how my left femur became broken, a sloppy seating on the commode.” Tears began running down my cheek as the tragic incident flooded my mind. Embarrassment, pain, vanity, all danced around in my head as I was gently seated. They removed their gowns and left the room for me to urinate. I was pushing the nurses' call button as fifteen minutes on the commode was leaving my limbs numb. They returned, put on a new set of yellow gowns and gloves, and lifted me, pivot, and I sat on my bed and was ready to just sleep. I jokingly thanked them for the dance. It was my sense of humor and personality that kept these young ladies smiling as they took care of me for the next week.

Curtains were drawn lights out. I cried quietly because I honestly was afraid to be alone. My husband had spent the ten days at the hospital with me and this place barely had sitting room for my two guests. I was alone, except for my prayers and my roommate, Ray.

“You okay?” I hear in the darkness, it was Ray.
“Yeah Ray, I’m just lonely.”
“I get like that thumbtime. Itth okay to cry. What time do you get up?”
“About five for me.”
“Yeah, me too. I go to dialithith.” I drifted off a little as she continued talking, ever so lightly, but it was comforting in the darkness. “Okay, goodnight.”
I opened my eyes a second and whispered, “Goodnight, Ray.”

I was startled awake at about one o'clock as the bright lights came on and Ray was being tended to. I called out, “Can someone get my pain meds for me and I need to pee, too.” 
“Sure Joni, let us take care of Ray first okay?” 
Okay, thank you.” 
She went and got another nurse after calling down for pain meds for me. They gowned and gloved up and came around the curtain to help me. 

I was on twelve-hour oxysomething but allowed ‘2 booster pills’ for pain if needed. And being startled awake and moved around, I certainly needed the pain medication still at this juncture of healing. It had only been eleven days since surgery. The pill lady was a different nurse, she was called the ‘charge nurse’, I guess because she was in charge of the pills? Maybe the nurses too, I don’t know. She took my vitals while she was there at two o'clock so she didn’t need to wake me at three to do it all over again. Everything normal (except me) and with a ‘I hope you sleep well’ after shutting the lights off and closing the door, she was out of the room.

“That feelth better,” I hear Ray say on the other side of the curtain.
“Yeah, it sure does,” I whispered.
“Okay, goodnight.” 
“Goodnight Ray”

Jer. 29:11 “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”