A new day

Tree lace

Little birds are giving their wake up calls, chattering between the trees. Dawn is coming.

During the night, the sky has cleared. This is the city. Only one brave star shows still in the sky, holding steady. A lone airplane going east blinks its red port light, seeming to fly through the tangled winter lace of the trees.

The branches are silhouetted against a clear peacock blue sky that is rising by the minute to a pale yellow pre-dawn colour. Across the tennis courts, the sodium lights are diminishing with daylight. The trees stand in eternal cones against the horizon, edged by a tatting of leafless branches. Two doves fly in and sit quietyly waiting in the elm tree.

A new day is beginning.

Eight thirty. The hall had been spotless during the night. Not a soul stirred. It was hotter in the hall than in the room. The nurse said that all the rooms were hot and that they had turned off the heat in all rooms. There was no possibility to get help to fix the system before the morrow. Our thermostat registered thirty degrees Celsius. It was suffocating.

Now the nursing shift has changed. Cecilia has come back in , giving mother a morphine shot in the thigh. Rosita the care helper comes to change mom’s night diaper and to bathe away her fever with alcohol mixed with water.

Now the hallway is filled with carts. A cart for clothing to be changed. A cart for the care helper’s needs, ointments, sturdy paper towel, water jug and clear plastic throw-away drinking beakers. One cart has two stacks of clean towels above, and discarded towels in a jumble on the lower level. A garbage bag hangs off this cart for collection of waste basket contents.

The tall breakfast cart has old breakfast trays on four of its eight shelves, gathering the detritus of the night.

Care aids are going in and out of the rooms, waking residents, assisting them with dressing, washing, toileting or preparing their meal.

A new day is beginning.


2 Responses to “A new day”

  1. Cristina Angela Carballo Says:

    I liked the first lines of the previous post. “As she was losing her mind, she was losing her compass.” That’s how I feel…

  2. Cristina Angela Carballo Says:

    Yes, perhaps I am. If you have read my posts, I’m suffering from an as-yet undetermined disorder which is between manic-depression and paranoid schizophrenia. I am between these two, making it doubly worse. Is it not? That I am in between the two most severe mental illnesses in the world? It’s hard. And I want to be a surgeon, but how? Can I? It’s too hard.

    I’m a poet. I write mostly, private stuff. But I like that you read my posts and will inspire me to write more. Thank you.

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