(no subject)
The nurse left work at five o’clock.
***
Every day’s the same. Ten years, and every day’s been exactly the same. Twenty-five to thirty-five, a decade in time, no difference.
***
There have been life events. Average boyfriends that have all lead to not-quite-heartache. Family reunions that reunited people she saw once a week for dinner down the street from her apartment. Vacations, but nothing extravagant. All in all, there’s nothing very exciting about her.
***
Maryann Thompson-White was 98. Her husband, Charles White, died when Maryann was 97 of a sudden heart attack. Maryann had been in the hospital for five years, and the nurse took care of her from day one. Never once did she hear Maryann complain about being in the hospital, tests, being sick. Her only words were delightful stories about a lovely life, how much she loved her dear Charles, and encouraging words to everybody. It appeared she’d lived her life to its fullest. She had.
She died exactly one year after her husband. Her death was easy: she went in her sleep with a smile on her face. She’d had a long conversation with the nurse before she fell asleep, and her last words were thanks to God for giving her such a wonderful life and she was excited to see her Charles. She thanked the nurse for all the help over the years and told her that she knew this was her night. She said goodbye.
***
The night after that conversation, the nurse went home to an empty apartment. Most nights, she didn’t mind it. Some nights, she even embraced it. But that night, oh, that night was different.
The nurse had never been jealous of Maryann. At least, not that she would admit to herself or anyone else, except in the earliest of mornings after a few too many glasses of wine drunk alone with a sad movie on television. So what if the woman had spent her whole life doing something she loved, gallivanting across the world despite a lack of obvious funds to do so. If her life had been filled with memories she cherished and years loving a man who loved her back, loved her more than anyone else in the world, well -- who cares? Certainly not her.
Certainly.
After all, the nurse had a job saving lives. She spent her 8 hour shift helping in the process of making people better; she worked hard to give people longer lives. Sometimes, she was with them for an hour. Sometimes, for five years.
But the more she thought about it that night, the more she had to think about how many of those lives she actually saved. Maybe 50%. And, well -- could it really be considered saving their lives, when everyone dies eventually anyway?
The thought was a catalyst. She realized within the span of a few minutes how much she hated her job. She was dying in it, doing something she hated because she thought it would serve a better purpose. And why, she wondered, was she dying to help people live, when the whole world is just living to die?
***
Her job as a nurse was the only thing she knew. Even after that night, the average girl in her average life was too afraid of change to go about doing anything different. So she went into work, she did her job as a nurse, administered pain medication and even met another happy old lady.
And she wouldn’t be jealous of this one, either.
The nurse left work at five o’clock.