Last Day Together

On my last day with her, her hands were really bleeding. Her arms too. All of the skin on her arms seemed to be only held together by the variety of bandages. I had to take care of the bleeding because I was scared of her blood. I took out some hydrogen peroxide, some gauze, and some tape. I placed her hand over the rail and pulled up a chair. I hurt her, I know that I did. I told her that I knew it hurt. I told her to pretend she was getting a manicure. The tape had to be wound around every finger, the gauze had to go all the way around her knuckles. I couldn't bring myself to tackle her arms. They could not take any more tape. So I put socks over her arms. To protect myself...to protect the next woman.

It was actually a beautiful time together. I spoke to her from my heart. No, I spoke to her through my heart. I thanked her for letting me be there. I apologized for not being good at understanding her. I reminded her that she could let go at any time. We had no business keeping her here. I did not, as other people have claimed to, know that she would choose the next day. I was too worried about trying to find someone to cover Tuesday's night shift.

The next day was my day off, but I stopped by to drop off some oxycodone. Then, of course, I came by later that night to call and tell people what had happened. I had to witness the hospice nurse destroy all of her medicine, I had to put the baby to sleep.