I walked through a dead woman’s home this morning. I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time.  I had been there a week before and the lady had seemed perfectly functional.  Upon reflecting, I can really only pick out a few things that might have indicated her approaching death.

She had struggled to hear me last week, brazenly asking what initials she was to call me by.

“S..C..” I had stated loudly and clearly, emphasizing the movements of my mouth.

“SA it is.  SA get me a piddle-panty.”  She had demanded, unaware of her mistake.  I would be lying if I said her error upset me.  If someone insists on calling me by my initials instead of my name, no further insult will be as effective.  Also, her repetitive use of SA reminded me of the Mexican slang ese, causing me to laugh inwardly all day.  And it was definitely a day when I needed some happy secret to keep my demeanor friendly and professional.

Her confusion had grown exponentially as well.  At one point in the day she explained to me why she was having difficulty remembering.

“Lung cancer can come in a lot of ways.  It can stay in the lungs or it can spread to other parts of the body.  Mine went to my brain and other parts and that’s why I have trouble.  I know I’m a nuisance.”  She had looked accusatorily at me.  I had smiled in what I hoped reflected kindness.

“Not at all.  You are not trouble at all.”  I again spoke forcefully and emphatically.  Maintaining the balance between a pleasant tone and being loud enough to hear is challenging.

This conversation was repeated four times within the next hour.

I rolled out of someone else’s bed at 6:04 this morning.  I was groggy but no longer drunk, just slightly queasy and needing to piss.  I shut off my phone so it wouldn’t wake cat boy and stumbled around the dark room, randomly finding articles of clothing strewn about.  Cat boy stretched languorously and made a contented noise.  I saw him reach for the place I had been lying and fret a little.  He woke slightly and murmured, “You’re leaving..?”

I crawled across the bed toward him.  “Mhmm…” I stated, scratching his head and planting a kiss before hopping off the bed quickly.  “Bye.” I called as I walked out.  I keep trying to convince myself that I will not fall for this guy.  The less drawn out the goodbyes the better.

 When I left I was minus one sock and bra.  I figured I could have done worse. 

I had pinned up my sexified hair in a messy claw clip and my mascara was intact so I still hoped my appearance would not entirely reflect the previous night’s furtive happenings.  I walked into the open air, it was damp but not cold.  The humidity struck me as odd, this town is known for its dry, cold, windy weather.  I walked past the local brewery and looked quickly into the reflective glass to ascertain my general appearance.  It was acceptable.

I turned around quickly upon the realization that I had parked in the other direction. I thought that maybe I was still feeling the night before. 

Key. Door. Key. Ignition. Reverse.  Lights.

The drive home was short and the weather made me ashamed that I was not walking or cycling. 

I went through the back door, pissed, set my alarm for 6:40, and passed out in my bed. 

The quick nap helped with the queasiness.  I pulled on my scrubs, fixed my hair, downed some coffee and toast, and headed out the door.

So there I was, 7:01, at an empty house with the lights off.  I wondered if they had left the woman alone for the night.  This idea did not check out, the woman was on hospice care with 24-hour coverage.  I thought maybe the CNA before me had left early.  This didn’t make sense either.

I flipped the lights on.  The kitchen was messy, ash trays filled with butts, and a chair was knocked over.  I navigated the hall to her room, unable to distinguish if her body was present in the dim light. I turned the light on.  It was an empty bed, sheets folded down and nicely tucked away.  It looked deliberate and planned, immaculately clean unlike the scene in the kitchen.

I called the head nurse and verified what I felt was certain.  She had passed away in the middle of the night.

The woman had lived in that house for 50 years.  I faltered out into the morning.