Tranquility Read online

  “Are you saying someone might steal from me?”

  “It’s not that.” I shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of how to explain. “Sometimes the residents forget where their rooms are and may wander in here. I’m sorry if it’s an inconvenience.”

  “No need to apologize, lass. I know you’re just doing your job.”

  I smiled gratefully. “Will you need help getting washed and dressed?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. I’m quite capable of washing and dressing myself, despite what Anne may have told you.”

  “I’m sure you are, but I had to offer. If you do need help with anything, I’ll be down the hall waking the other residents. Come find me if you need me.”

  I went down the hall to Sam’s room. His roommate, Albert, was still asleep. Sam paced back and forth in front of the window. He looked up accusingly when I walked in. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Hi, Sam, my name’s Sarah. Jan asked me to help you this morning.”

  He eyed me suspiciously, but relaxed at the sound of his daughter’s name. “Oh, she did, did she? She coming to get me today? I want out of this place.”

  I unlocked his wardrobe and took his iPod down from the top shelf. “She’s coming later. She sent some music for you.” I went to him, and knowing he might not remember doing the exact same thing the morning before, explained what I was about to do. “This is an iPod. It’s a new gadget that has music on it, the same as a record or a cassette. These go in your ears so you can hear it.” He watched me warily, but didn’t resist as I put the ear buds in place. I turned the iPod on and tucked it into his shirt pocket. His face lit up and he began to hum along to Johnny Cash as I led him to the bathroom.

  Ten minutes later, Sam was washed, shaved and dressed, still humming as he sat in his recliner near the window, watching the birds flit in and out of the feeder.

  I woke Albert, who was already stirring, and took him into the bathroom. He stared at me blankly. “Do you need to use the toilet, Albert?”

  His eyes moved to my chest. “Nice knockers,” he said in a heavy British accent, lifting his hands as though to grab them. He’d been diagnosed with Pick’s disease, a rare form of dementia that sometimes caused him to say and do sexually inappropriate things. Sam was often inappropriate as well, but he did it with intent, with a lecherous smile and a gleam in his eye that led me to believe he’d been inappropriate long before he had dementia.

  I took Albert’s hands and held them gently in mine. “Albert,” I said, speaking slowly and clearly. “I want you to use the toilet, please.”

  He forgot about my chest. “Hairball!” he called, looking around the room.

  According to his charts, he’d once owned a cat named Hairball and now spent much of his time walking round and round the racetrack-like halls looking for it. I spent the next five minutes trying to distract him from finding his cat and finally managed to get him ready for breakfast.

  I left Albert circling the halls and moved on to the twins’ room. I switched on the dim fluorescent lights on the wall behind the beds as I greeted them.

  Lily and Beth stretched and yawned as they sat up in bed. “Morning, Aunt Helen,” Beth mumbled, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

  Helen had helped them care for their mother, who had developed early-onset Alzheimer’s in her fifties. The twins had spent most of their early adult years looking after her and never left home, married, or had children.

  I gathered clothes from the wardrobe for Lily, who had a bath scheduled for seven. After helping them into their robes and slippers, I sent Beth into the washroom and escorted Lily down the hall to the bathing room. “I’m going to leave you with Sheila for a bit,” I explained. “She’ll help you with your bath. When you’re done, I’ll take you to the dining room for breakfast.”

  “She’ll see me naked.” She whispered the last word as though it were naughty, put her hand over her mouth and giggled.

  “It’s okay, Lily. She’s a girl too, so it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before.” I left her sitting on a bench outside the bathing room and strode back to Hall B. As I came around the corner, I heard Sam’s raised voice and hurried into his room.

  Sam had Albert cornered and was reaching for something in Albert’s hand. “Give it to me,” Sam said.

  Albert clutched it tightly and hid his hand behind his back. “You’re snookered. Off your trolley, old chap.”

  “Sam, Albert, what’s the problem?”

  Sam swung around. “He has my music!”

  That explained it all. “Albert, can I see what’s in your hand, please?”

  He shook his head and slipped past Sam to his nightstand. He opened the drawer, placed the item inside and slid it shut carefully. Sam tried to get around him, but Albert stood, unmoving, with his back to the drawer as though guarding it.

  I went to Sam’s side, took him by the arm and spoke softly into his ear. “Sam, come with me. I’ll get your music back, I promise.”

  He hesitated.

  I pulled gently on his sleeve. “Come on, Sam. I’ll take you to the lounge to wait for breakfast. Maybe the ladies will be there.”

  That piqued his interest and he went along willingly. I left him in the lounge in front of the TV and rushed back to the room to deal with Albert. He was gone. I opened the drawer to find the iPod there along with a variety of other items. I looked through them quickly and spotted the comb that had gone missing from the twins’ bathroom the day before, a tube of lipstick, a few packages of crackers and half a moldy sandwich.

  I pulled Sam’s iPod out and slid it into my pocket. The rest I’d have to deal with later.

  When I went to collect Lily from her bath, she was dressed, sitting outside the bathing room on a bench, looking miserable. I crouched down so I was eye-level with her. “How was your bath, Lily?”

  “She’s a miserable cow.” An indignant look came over her face. “She calls it a ‘fish’,” she whispered, pointing at her crotch.

  I blinked in surprise. “Oh, Lily. I’m sorry she made you uncomfortable.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she pushed her bottom lip out slightly. “And I hurt my arm, too.”

  I looked down to see her rubbing her wrist gingerly. “May I see, please?”

  She hesitated, but held her arm out for inspection. Her wrist was slightly red. I turned it over. It was red underneath as well.

  “How did you hurt it, Lily?”

  She looked confused then, and stared off into the distance as though struggling to remember. “I-I’m not sure. I think she was mad at me, but I don’t know why.”

  “Sheila was mad at you?” I glanced around and lowered my voice. “Did she hurt you?”

  Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Hurt me? I don’t think…I can’t remember.”

  “It’s okay, Lily.” I pulled a tube of lipstick out of my pocket. Her eyes lit up and she pursed her lips so I could apply the deep red color to them.

  * * *

  I caught up to Edie as we left the dining room after breakfast. “I’ll be taking some of the residents to the auditorium shortly for the church service if you’d like to join us.”

  She looked amused by my offer. “If I decide to go, I’m sure I can find my own way, lass. I have the map you gave me yesterday and I did some exploring last night, so I know my way around. I have the schedule as well, so I know all about the activities this week.” She stopped outside the lounge, turned to me and put her hand on my arm. “I’ll not be acting helpless just because Anne has decided I am. And you won’t need to be catering to me, my dear.” She gave my arm a pat, turned and walked into the lounge before I could say a word.

  I left a few of my residents in the auditorium singing hymns and went to help Tracey make beds. The incident with Lily had bothered me all morning and I’d decided to talk to Tracey about it. She was already making beds when I found her.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” she asked when I walked in.

  I went to the other s
ide of the bed to help. “It’s okay. It’s a little faster pace than I’m used to.”

  “A little? I’ve been in Palliative. My God, it’s like a friggin’ morgue up there at night. Don’t worry. Once you get into the routine, it’ll get easier. And it’s never boring.”

  We moved on to the next bed and worked in silence for a few moments while I debated whether I should say anything about Lily. Finally, I glanced over my shoulder at the door and said in a hushed voice, “Lily told me something after her bath today.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “She said she hurt her arm. Her wrist was red all the way around as though….”

  Tracey stopped working and stared at me. “As though someone grabbed it?”

  I nodded. “When I asked her how she hurt it, she said she didn’t remember, but she thought Sheila was mad at her.”

  Tracey’s face darkened. “What do you know about Sheila?”

  “Not much. I’ve heard rumors from people in Palliative who’ve worked with her over the years. I know they call her the ‘Bath Lady’ and she’s been here a long time.”

  “Too long. Since Tranquility opened thirty years ago. Abby might be head nurse, but she pretty much lets Sheila do what she wants and Sheila acts like she owns the place. Even has the nurses under her thumb.” She leaned across the bed and whispered, “And believe me, she gets called a lot more than the ‘Bath Lady’. She’s a nasty old bitch.”

  “Why is she still here?”

  She snorted. “Are you kidding? The rest of them have been here almost as long as her. They all have their place in the pecking order and she’s at the top.”

  “Are you saying I shouldn’t do anything about Lily?”

  “No. Record it. Report it to Abby, but be careful how you word it. She’s worked with Sheila a long time.”

  “But Abby’s the supervisor. If someone reports abuse she can’t ignore it.”

  “Not how it works around here. She’s probably just as afraid of Sheila as everyone else.”

  “Why would people be afraid of Sheila?”

  Tracey rolled her eyes. “You obviously haven’t had a run-in with her yet. Don’t cross her whatever you do. She’ll make your life hell.”

  I found Abby in the nurse’s supply room just before lunch, stocking her cart with lunchtime medications. Her long brown hair was pulled tightly into a ponytail, giving her face a severe look. I wondered, as I stood in the doorway watching her bustle back and forth between the cart and the shelves, how she kept her white scrubs so clean.

  A moment passed and she still hadn’t looked up. I cleared my throat and she glanced my way. “Sarah,” she said with a nod of acknowledgement. “Can I help you?”

  “I, uh, just wanted to let you know about an incident this morning.”

  “Okay, go ahead.” She continued working as I explained.

  “When I picked Lily up from her bath this morning, she told me she hurt her arm. I checked it and I didn’t see any bruises, but it was a little red.”

  Abby barely looked up. “Where?”

  “Around the wrist, all the way around, on both sides.”

  “Did she say how it happened?”

  “She didn’t remember.”

  Abby straightened up and pushed the cart out of the room. She turned her back and continued speaking as she locked the door. “I appreciate you coming to me, Sarah, but an incident this minor really doesn’t need to be reported. It sounds like her wrist was sore or itchy and she was rubbing it.”

  “But she said Shei-“ I remembered Tracey’s warning. “She said she hurt it.”

  Abby turned and took hold of the cart. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious. Record it in the support worker binder if it makes you feel better. I have work to do and I’m sure you do as well.” She marched away, pushing the cart toward the nurse’s station.

  * * *

  With Tracey’s help, I managed to get all my residents to the dining room in time for lunch. I pushed Mrs. Sellers up to a nearby table and directed Albert to a chair beside her. He rubbed his bald head in confusion and looked around the room.

  I leaned down to eye level. “We’re here for lunch, Albert. Would you like some tea, or coffee, or a glass of juice?”

  He looked me straight in the eyes with a smile on his face and said, “Sod off.”

  I smiled in return, as though he’d wished me a good day, and went to get him a cup of tea.

  Edie was sitting at a table with another of my residents, Rose, a sweet, gentle woman in her fifties with Down syndrome and Alzheimer’s. Across from them sat Mrs. Wojciechowski, who, for obvious reasons, everyone called Mrs. W. She was in the later stages of dementia and had recently developed problems with muscle control, including swallowing.

  Sheila was sitting beside Mrs. W, feeding her.

  I sat down between Albert and Mrs. Sellers and helped Albert fix his tea. Sam was across the table from me. Lily and Beth, the twins, stood to my right, bickering over who should get to sit beside him. Beth had reached the chair beside Sam first, pulled it out from the table and prepared to sit, but Lily shoved past her sister and slid into the seat first.

  Beth made a sound of outrage and pushed her bottom lip out in a hot pink lipstick pout. “I was here first, Lily.”

  “No you weren’t,” Lily said nonchalantly. She picked up her napkin, flicked it open and smoothed it across her lap.

  Beth’s eyes narrowed in anger and she moved around the chair to look down at her sister. “I’m telling Mother.”

  I patted the seat of the chair beside me. “Beth, come sit with me and tell me about the boy you like.” I’d overheard Beth talking to Lily the day before about her high school sweetheart and hoped I could distract her from the argument with her sister.

  .“You mean Paul?”

  “Yes. I want to hear all about him.”

  She smiled indulgently and sat down to tell me about him. I placed her soupspoon in her hand and she soon became distracted from her stories by the food in front of her.

  Mrs. W was having a hard time that day. She choked and coughed with the first spoonful. Soup trickled down her chin and neck, soaking her apron before Sheila impatiently swiped at it with a napkin.

  Mrs. Sellers tried to push her wheelchair away from the table. I pulled her back in, moved the half-empty soup bowl away and placed a ham and cheese sandwich in front of her. “Here, Mrs. Sellers, here’s a sandwich for you.” That piqued her interest and she began to eat again.

  Lily giggled and I looked over to see her with a sandwich in one hand and the other on Sam’s crotch. Sam had a huge grin on his face. I turned back to Mrs. Sellers with a smile. She was still engrossed in her sandwich and oblivious to the antics across the table.

  Sheila’s loud, shrill voice rang out. “Open your mouth now, dear. You have to eat.”

  “Open your mouth, dear,” parroted Lily. She and Beth giggled, oblivious to Sheila’s angry glare.

  There were a few other snickers throughout the room, no doubt because Lily had sounded so much like Sheila, condescending tone and all.

  My eyes met Tracey’s as I looked around the room. She raised an eyebrow and shook her head in disgust. We both looked back at Sheila as her power struggle with Mrs. W continued.

  Mrs. W clamped her mouth shut as she turned her head from side to side in an attempt to get away from the spoon. Sheila leaned forward and caught Mrs. W’s chin in one hand. She held her head still and forced the spoon between her lips. “You. Need. To eat!”

  The force of the spoon pried Mrs. W’s lips open and in went a mouthful of soup. Sheila sat up taller and looked around for approval, but all eyes were on Mrs. W’s face as she prepared to empty her mouth. Her eyes shot daggers at Sheila as she puffed out her cheeks and took a deep breath in through her nose. Sheila had finished gloating and was turning back toward the table when Mrs. W expelled her breath forcefully. Soup and spit flew from her mouth and hit Sheila full in the face.

  There was a collective gasp before the
dining room fell silent. For a moment, no one spoke or moved as we all watched and waited for Sheila’s reaction. But even she seemed shocked into silence. Finally, she sputtered and reached for a napkin.

  Edie, who had been staring at Sheila as though mesmerized by the globs of slimy soup dripping off her face, now glanced at me. My hand had gone automatically to my mouth when the soup flew. I saw the glint in Edie’s eye and realized that, behind my hand, I was smirking. I shook my head violently at her, but it was too late.

  Edie chuckled. Lily and Beth, upon hearing Edie’s laughter, both snorted loudly and were soon laughing as well. Sam and Albert were oblivious to it all and continued to eat as though nothing had happened.

  Sheila’s expression was murderous. She eyed Edie from across the table as she wiped her face with the napkin. Her angry glare only made Edie laugh harder. It was contagious and soon most of the residents joined in. Staff members turned away to hide their grins. Tracey hid her face behind her hand, but her shoulders were shaking.

  Sheila remained silent, but I could tell by her stiff movements and the set of her jaw that she was quietly seething. She finished cleaning her face as well as she could with the napkin, and then went to the sink to wash properly. She came back to the table and proceeded to feed Mrs. W her pudding, which she ate willingly.

  The laughter died down and everyone went back to eating as though nothing had happened. Everyone but Sheila. The dark looks she gave Edie, her rigid posture and silence, said more than any angry words could have.

  My “Sheila-watching” days had just begun.

  Chapter 3 - Forgotten Memories

  WATCHING SHEILA WAS A challenge since she spent most of her time alone in the bathing room with residents. While she was bathing them, the rest of us were busy helping people get up and ready for breakfast. I simply didn’t have time to “spy” on her. I had no proof that Sheila was mistreating anyone. My suspicions were based on intuition and rumors. The thought of anyone mistreating the residents outraged me, especially in the dementia unit, where people were so much more vulnerable because they were often unaware and unable to communicate.