In Her Care

Part I

Ask anyone who has ever experienced any type of relationship with Butler Canistoga, and two words come to mind. Loyal and responsible are consistently used to define her character. Her dedication has withstood the test of time over the years. Yet, her faithfulness has never changed. Much in tune with those in her circle, her self-awareness solid, she prides herself on being responsible and accountable to others’ well-being. 

Butler paused her reading and glanced over the top of the book, her eyes following the child’s movements. The child’s playful antics with the doors on the washers grew old in seconds. Losing interest in her reading, Butler then looked away into the wholeness of the laundromat. This is the first time in an hour she has honestly given the place a true screening.

Is the laundromat normally this crowded on an early Friday morning? Saturday is usually the day for all the not-so-fortunate to drag their soiled clothing to the neighborhood establishment; including Butler.

In another six months, she’s praying that they can move into an apartment that includes a washer and dryer in the unit or at least one on each floor. There’s nothing worse than using a public laundry facility to wash clothes that someone else has used. Judging by some of the clientele, their homes may not be the most neat or sanitary.

Butler organized the folded laundry. She discovered that this enabled her to put it away much quicker once she brought it home. She likes to look at things from a logical perspective, even something as simple as doing laundry or putting away groceries.

She placed the white clothes, socks, and underwear on the bottom. They had fewer chances of falling out and being overlooked should they hit the ground or floor. Next, she stacked her clothes evenly on both sides. Her husband’s work clothes were always placed on top. They’re bulkier and were more noticeable should they fall out of the laundry basket.

The second laundry basket is comprised of linen-sheets, towels, bath clothes, blankets, and pillowcases. Satisfied with the completion of this weekly chore, she located a cart in the crowded laundromat in the back corner over by the row of dryers numbered from 1 to 10. She claimed it before someone else could.

She pushed the unbalanced cart over to her laundry table and gently sat the first large woven basket full of clothes into it. The second matching laundry basket was heavier than the first. But she managed to set it in the laundry cart, with no issues. The thought of picking up all the laundry and refolding it again made her cringe.

As she exited the laundromat, carefully pulling the wobbly cart behind her, the other hand placed on top of the basket with the linen, a heavy, dark woman was waiting to enter. She held the door for Butler, smiled politely, and waited patiently for Butler to clear the entrance.

Once Butler placed the two loads of laundry on the back seat of her car, she immediately delivered the laundry cart back to the Quick and Fold Laundromat. She refused to take it to the back where she found it. She sat it just inside the door and left.

This is the only chore that takes her outside of the home that she’s not too crazy about. Glad to have it completed, she planned her day inside her head as she pulled out of the parking space.

She turned on the radio, listening to the all-news radio station for the twenty-minute ride home. She never know what days she has off until her manager posts the monthly schedule on the company’s bulletin board on the Intranet. How she wished they would post it in six months increments.

This week her days off were Tuesday and today, Friday. Unfortunately, she wasn’t feeling well Tuesday. She slept all day, up until early evening. She knows why. It’s a secret she plans to reveal tonight. Since today is the only day she has to complete her chores, she’s taking full advantage of the time.

Tomorrow is her fourth wedding anniversary. Her aim is to surprise her husband tonight, since she’s working a double shift tomorrow, beginning at 7 am. He promised not to work overtime today.

Carver Canistoga has been the primary recipient of Butler’s loyalty and dedication for over five years. Lately, he’s been in such a foul, distant mood. Ever since his mother’s accident a year ago, their relationship has been under a strain.

Part II 

Butler placed her right foot on the pedal below the bed and pressed it gently. The bed gradually lifted with the 78-year-old gray-haired woman sleeping peacefully. Satisfied that it’s leveled with her hips, Butler removed her foot then worked the corners of the pillows to fluff them. She softly hummed a generic tune as she used both of her hands to gently turn Lambert Babcock on her side. The woman stirred, but not enough to wake up. She’s oblivious to Butler’s fussing about her space.

           The soiled clothes in the laundry bin, her bed pan emptied, the air set at a comfortable 65 degrees, Butler placed a fresh cup of water with ice chips on the night table. Her first patient of the day is taken care of for the moment. She moved on to the next, then the next.

           There was never a dull moment on her job. This morning she had been assigned three more patients than usual. The floor is understaffed. Two people called out sick. It didn’t matter how many patients were assigned to her roster; Butler took care of them all.

           This has been her routine for the past eight years at LaPorte Regional Medical Center. There have been families who tried to make her life difficult. There were too many covers on the bed, there were not enough covers on the bed, close the curtain, the Sun is too bright, my mother can’t drink this coffee it’s too hot.

           Butler handled each situation with tact, dignity, respect and kindness. The patients come first. Their comfort is her primary concern. It’s not her position to argue with the patient or family.

           The many awards, recognition plaques and letters of thanks from patients and family are a testimony to her commitment to her job.

           Her ninth year at LaPorte, she was offered a lead position by the Director of Nursing. In addition to taking care of patients, she’s responsible for supervising four Medical Assistants assigned to her floor for the day shift. Her patient load was cut to five because of the added administrative duties.

           In her first year as a lead, she recommended the reassignment of one medical assistant. The young man was not effective in caring for elderly patients. Instead of him losing his job, Butler felt it best he work with a more skilled, seasoned manager. She also reported a direct report to her manager for allegedly stealing from other staff. The young lady was suspended for a week without pay.

           Butler is a Certified Medical Assistant. She served her three-month externship at LaPorte during her studies. Upon graduating from Heritage Medical Institute, Summa Cum Laude, in 2000, she was highly recommended for entry-level positions in the Geriatric and Eating Disorder Divisions at LaPorte. She interviewed for both positions and subsequently opted to work for the Geriatric Division.

           Mid-June 2010, Butler’s life changed tremendously. When she reported to work Friday, June 18, she reviewed her roster for assignment of new patients besides the ones assigned prior. The newest patient listed-Florence-Jean Hartford was admitted overnight from complications of a stroke.

           Her norm is to see newly assigned patients first. When she entered Florence-Jean’s room, the night-duty nurse was in the process of completing her vitals. Butler offered to assist the nurse, but she declined.

Across the room, Butler noticed a gentleman standing rigid, his hands in his pockets, staring out the window. She moved indistinctly across the room and introduced herself. She felt this was the proper thing to do. It’s necessary to know the people who are part of the patient’s support system.

           “Good morning. My name is Butler Seabrook.” She extended her hand.

           The man turned and reciprocated. He couldn’t help noticing two things about the petite, calm, even-toned woman; her soft hands and warm eyes. The appearance on Carver’s worried, stern face turned his mouth into a pleasant, accepting expression. He hasn’t smiled so pleasing at a woman in over two years.

           “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Seabrook. My name is Carver Canistoga and the stubborn lady in that bed over there is my mother.” He shook his head at the sight of his mother. “She’s so hard-headed. I told her to stay home; one of us would take her to the market after work. No. She had to venture out on her own. She couldn’t wait for my brother, sister, or me.” The frown returned to his face.

           “She’s in the right place. We’re going to take good care of her. Don’t fuss too much at her. I’m sure she’s used to doing things for herself. Relax. I’m her Medical Assistant. She’s in excellent hands.”

           Carver’s shoulders relaxed slightly, relieving the stress. “I appreciate your dedication and concern, Miss Seabrook. Thank you.”

           My, he’s handsome, Butler thought. This is the first time in years she’s paid attention to how lonely she is. Her last two relationships didn’t work out too well. She discovered Timothy is the most selfish man who walks on Earth. Durham revealed to her on the day of his wife’s funeral that he had been married for 15 years. He was only with Butler to see if he could get away with it. After that, she swore off of men and concentrated on school and her career. 

           “You are most welcome. Your mother will be back home in no time. Trust and believe.”

           Carver was genuinely touched. “I’m going downstairs for coffee; would you like anything?”

           “No, thank you. I must make my rounds. I’ll be back to check in on your mother in about 30 minutes”.

           That encounter occurred over four years ago. Carver and Butler were married the following year. The wedding was small and held in Florence-Jean’s Germantown home. Sixteen people attended. 

           No one in Butler’s family attended. Two friends from work came. Butler’s mother and younger brother moved to Wilson, North Carolina, to be closer to her mother’s oldest sister two months after she graduated high school.

Butler chose not to move down south. She didn’t think southern life fit her. Born and raised in North Philadelphia, she felt that more job opportunities existed in the city. Besides, she visited her aunt and uncle’s home during the summer as a child. The bugs, mosquitoes, dark dusty roads, and distance between neighbors didn’t agree with her. She’s not cut out for rural life.

Part III  

Butler worked diligently all day, preparing for a romantic evening with her handsome, hardworking husband. She selected their outfits and placed them to the front of the closet for easy retrieval. The candles and rose petals are in place along with the seductive music to set the tone for the evening. For dinner, she has prepared corned beef and cabbage with baby carrots and onions, buttery mashed potatoes and fresh baked dinner rolls.

           Butler laid down around 4:15 pm to rest before Carver arrived home. The alarm on her nightstand went off at 6 pm. She jumped at the sound of the voice. It startled her. Realizing that the man talking indirectly to her was the news announcer, she reached over to turn off the contraption. As she rose from the bed, the front door opened and closed.

           “Butler? Where are you? Why is it so dark in here?” Carver called out to her.

           “I’m in here, honey. I’m coming right out.”

           Moving as quickly as she could, she greeted him in the kitchen where he had poured himself a cup of tea.

           “How was your day?” She asked him. “Did the guys on the team make their quota today?”

           Carver finished his tea and sat the cup in the sink. “Yep,” he responded nonchalantly. He’s reserved and short with her. He has something on his mind, but is afraid to say anything.

           “That’s awesome. Why don’t you get showered and I’ll have dinner ready when you get out?”

           Carver turned to face his wife, nervously. “Listen, Butler. I have something . . . What I’m trying to say is. . . “

           Butler frowned. She stepped back and searched her husband’s face. Something is troubling him; something deep and dark. It’s rare that he’s ever at a loss for words.

           “Why don’t you go wash all that dirt from the warehouse off of you and we can talk about it over dinner?” Butler mumbled softly.

           Carver shrugs his shoulders hopelessly, then pecks his wife on her left cheek. He shuffles off toward the bedroom, knowing that he’s going to regret not speaking up.

           Twenty minutes later, the scene in the dining room is set while Carver steps out of the shower. Satisfied with her creativity, Butler’s aim is to get dress. However, she’s interrupted from going to the bedroom when the doorbell rings. She looks through the peephole. Her heart sank. This can’t be good. She opens the door for her visitors.

           Thirty-seven-year-old Essex Stepney and her brother, thirty-five-year-old Ferguson Canistoga enter the apartment, their faces stern and unfriendly. Essex’s expression is not a surprise. However, Butler is curious about Ferguson. His happy-go-lucky attitude has changed. Essex’s doing, no doubt.

           “Good evening, you two. What brings you here?” Butler questions them, surprised at this unannounced visit.

           “Is Carver home yet?” Essex asked gruffly, her menacing eyes gazing at Butler through the large, gaudy eyeglasses. 

           “Yes, he is? I’ll get him.” Butler said politely.

She’s hoping this visit won’t last too long. Carver’s assertive brother made himself comfortable on the sofa. Meanwhile, the ever manipulative and stubborn Essex took the liberty of blowing out the candles and turning off the music while Butler went into the bedroom reluctantly to summons her husband.

           Carver looked up as the bedroom door opened and closed with ease. He didn’t like the look on his wife’s face. Yet, he continued to dress in jeans and a polo shirt, in staunch silence, to Butler’s dismay.

           “Your brother and sister are here. Did you know they were coming?”

           Instead of answering her directly, Carver said, “Let’s just go into the living room. They won’t be here long.” He carried his sneakers in his right hand. He didn’t want to keep his siblings waiting. He joined Essex and Ferguson on the sofa, leaving Butler no choice but to sit on the loveseat, alone. She didn’t like this at all!

            “Now that we’re all here,” Essex started, as she fixed her eyes on Butler.

           “Do you have to be so callous?” Carver questioned her.

           Essex stood up abruptly, pointing her finger at her youngest brother. “Maybe if you had the guts to tell her, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. So you mister, just shut up!”

She strode across the room to the table in the dining room, grabbed her purse and returned. She stopped abruptly in front of Butler. Then she pulled an envelope from a side pocket on the purse.

           “Here. Take this letter.” She thrust the envelope into the woman’s left hand.

           “Our wonderful, endearing mother died because of you. Your clumsiness and stupidity are beyond me. I don’t care how long you’ve been working with patients. You should have never tried to handle a 300 pound patient by yourself. You should have waited for the nurse to arrive before you attempted to move her from the bed to the chair. When you caused her to fall and hit her head, she suffered a concussion and went into a coma, and days later she died. We are suing you and the nursing care agency. Your name is at the top of the list.”

           Butler’s mouth dropped in disbelief! So, all this time her husband blames her for his mother’s death. She sat emotionless, flabbergasted! Thinking back now, over the past year on their relationship, she recalled the silent treatment, going out without her, the meetings with his sister and brother, and family functions without inviting her to join him. 

            She stared at all of them. How could they blame her, it was an accident? The envelope clutched in her right hand, she got up and left the room, tears streaming down her face. The anniversary celebration is an afterthought at this point.