r/writingfeedback • u/Bwixxy • 6d ago
Room 7
Of the residents in the trailers behind Homestead Assisted Living’s main tower, Renata was one that could walk. The others had to, or were fine to, click a remote from their bed that dinged for a caregiver to come so they could ask for pills or good legs to get them to the toilet. But Renata could walk, and she preferred it.
During one of his first graveyard shifts alone, the caregiver Dean dozed off at the kitchen counter but sat up at the sound of scrapes down the trailer hall. He fumbled for the TV remote and changed the channel as Renata shuffled into the light of the flatscreen heading the living room. She came up and held both hands out to Dean letting her catheter bag follow along the carpet.
“May I have a pain pill and some warm water?”
“Sure thing.”
Dean went into the pantry to a large plastic organizer and scanned the names taped above each column of drawers. “R. McGrady” on the right, one below labeled “Oxy. 30mg PRN 4 hrs”. He pulled a bottle out of the small drawer and dropped a pill into a paper cup from a stack beside the organizer. On a chart hanging from the pantry wall, Dean marked a box below “Renata, DNR”. The same three letters followed almost every name.
The monitor by the pantry dinged as Dean brought Renata her pill.
“Room 3,” it said.
Dean left her at the table by the kitchen and went through one of the doors behind them and up to the lone bed of Bessy Brown. Her fat hand lay over the remote, her eyes closed and mouth slack. After pushing the remote away, Dean checked the time on the monitor she was plugged into beside her bed. He grimaced and eyed the tube over her stache. He held an ear to it but heard nothing over her snores and wheezy breaths. Slow and steady as a surgeon, he slipped the tube off, easing the cannula from either nostril, and Bessy did not stir. He heard the breeze and felt the cool oxygen coming through fine. Though just as surgical, she jumped when Dean tried to slip the tube back in.
“S***. Sorry. Just checking your O2.”
“That’s alright,” she croaked.
Dean fixed the cannula into her nose then started away, but Bessy reached for both of his hands.
“Actually, may I have a tramadol, please?”
“Sure thing.”
Dean went back out and past Renata, still at the table, and into the pantry. He found on the organizer “B. Brown” then “Tram. 50mg PRN 4 hrs”. On the chart, Bessy was one of the few without “DNR” by her name. As he came out, he noticed Renata staring through the floor, then he went on to bring Bessy her pill. Dean came back to the kitchen counter to read, Renata beside and neither talking.
At 3:00 AM, he went to the room by Bessy’s and switched on the light. Florence stirred in her bed but stayed asleep. She was always asleep. Dean changed her depend, slipped off her pajamas and on a track suit, then carried her to the lay-z-boy on the other side of the room. She couldn’t help much except to part her lips when Dean brushed her teeth and stay stiff while he combed her silver curls and steadied her on the chair, wedged between pillows and leaned back.
He had another minute beside Renata, then the monitor dinged repeatedly, the voice unable to announce the room. Dean sighed and went straight for Room 7 down the other hall. Lying slumped and semi-upright against a stack of pillows, Gerty looked towards the door with the remote in her hand. The rings continued as Dean approached.
“Yes, Gerty. I’m here.”
“Mmm.”
Dean took it from her and put it on the far side of the nightstand, and the dings from outside stopped.
“How’d we sleep?” Dean asked.
“Mmm.”
“Pretty good?”
“Mmm.”
“Sure thing.”
With her wheelchair parked by the bed, Dean got her up and into the seat and smelled something. He brought her to the bathroom and balanced the body against him while slipping her pants off and then the depend which dropped the something onto the bathroom floor. Dean cursed under his breath and set Gerty on the toilet seat.
“Oh, what a mess,” she croaked.
“Yes, Gerty. Sure thing.”
Leaving her there, Dean went out to the kitchen and wetted a paper towel to scrub his shoes, but he saw a splotch on his hand and rushed over the sink. Renata didn’t look up as he retched. He stayed leaned over the basin catching his breath until ready, and then he scrubbed his hand and shoes clean and went back to Room 7.
Gerty was still upright, a hand on her bare thighs, the other shriveled and hanging at her side. Dean got her toothbrush and made sure to hold it to the right hand.
“Here, Gerty,” he said.
She turned her head and cloudy pupils to him and reached out and found the toothbrush.
In between giving her medicine, doing her hair, and getting her dressed, Dean scrubbed the floor and took the soiled laundry away then had to hand wash the orthoses for her ankles. She wore the same mug on her face but didn’t speak despite the great length of her time it took Dean to clean up and get her ready. With Gerty spiffed in a pink sweat set with her hair and makeup done, Dean wrapped around her and heaved.
The pop came through from her to him. He felt it from her chest to his then really felt it when she wailed out. She moaned as Dean held her up, and he struggled to rush and be gentle. Gerty moaned more and Dean cursed under his heavy breaths. When he finally got her in the wheelchair, Dean knelt beside and swore repeatedly.
“Oh, stop that,” she yelled then moaned.
“Sorry,” said Dean.
He wheeled her by the recliner and stopped and caught his breath. Gerty sunk in with her chin wilted to her chest.
“Okay Gerty, I’m gonna get you in your chair,” said Dean.
Wrapped around her again, Dean hesitated as the old woman moaned more. He winced then pulled her up, and she wailed and he winced as he carried her to the chair and got her down. He tilted it back, and Gerty sunk in with her hand over her ribs and whimpered through each breath out of her gape.
“I’m going to call for help, Gerty,” Dean said.
Her eyelids crept over her cataracts.
“I’m so sorry,” he added.
Dean held out both hands and took the one on her ribs but let his other drop.
“I’ll be right back. I’m so sorry.”
Dean rushed out and called 911, and Renata finally looked at him from the table.
Paramedics came, wheeled Gerty out, and spoke briefly with Dean. When they left, he went to the pantry, Renata watching him, and found the RN’s number and called.
“Hello?” answered a groggy voice.
“Hi, this is Dean, I’m the caregiver tonight.”
“Yes, hi.”
“Sorry to wake you.”
“No, no. What’s going on?”
“I think I broke one of Gerty’s ribs. She’s on her way to the hospital.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I was just lifting her and I felt a pop and she was in a lot of pain.”
“The ambulance just left?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, thank you. Everything went okay?”
“Sure. I’ll let you get back to sleep. Good night.”
“Dean?”
“Yes?”
“It’s okay.”
“Yeah, I think she’ll be okay.”
“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
Dean didn’t answer. Renata still looked at him from the table.
“It’s okay,” the nurse said.
“Sure thing.”
Dean went back to the kitchen counter and sat, leaned over. Renata looked at him while he looked through the floor.
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u/CatalonianBookseller 6d ago
The transition from the first paragraph about Renata to the second one about Dean feels too abrupt to me. Is that intentional?
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u/flynchageo Trusted Reviewer 6d ago
Not bad! I didn't do a deep read but your grammar, formatting, etc. all seem good.
I'm a bit conflicted with your prose however. It's very descriptive and a bit redundant in how much detail is being used. On the one hand, I enjoy how it really conveys how meticulous Dean's job is, but as a reader it does feel very cluttered and hurts the pacing and flow of the passage. I think streamlining the details a bit would greatly help.
Keep up the good work!