{"id":35,"date":"2019-11-19T14:52:43","date_gmt":"2019-11-19T14:52:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/?p=35"},"modified":"2019-11-19T15:35:40","modified_gmt":"2019-11-19T15:35:40","slug":"i-am-the-new-little-girl-by-sarah-groh","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/2019\/11\/19\/i-am-the-new-little-girl-by-sarah-groh\/","title":{"rendered":"I Am the New Little Girl by Sarah Groh"},"content":{"rendered":"

Below is a short story by junior nursing student Sarah Groh. Sarah was the winner of the National Day of Writing Contest sponsored by Cedarville’s Writing Center.<\/em><\/p>\n

I worked here last summer, too, but of course they don\u2019t remember me. As long as I remember how to take care of them, I don\u2019t mind.<\/p>\n

I wear my hair in two French braids, which make me look ten years younger. Jerry wants to pull one, and Bernice says they could have been done better. As I walk past her room, I hear Clara talking on the phone about her \u201cNew Little Girl.\u201d<\/p>\n

That\u2019s me. I am the New Little Girl.<\/p>\n

The other aids\u2014\u201cthe girls\u201d as the residents call them\u2014tell me to avoid Ronald, the crankiest man in the nursing home. They\u2019ve been wrong before, like when they call me inexperienced, so I don\u2019t always believe them. And his call light is on, so I go in and help him pull up his pants.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve obviously never done this before,\u201d he grumbles as I pull his feet through the pant legs. \u201cAre you new?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKind of.\u201d My spine stiffens, but I pretend I\u2019m not offended.<\/p>\n

He stops complaining about me when I help him into the shower and turn it on extra hot the way he likes it. I rub soap on his back and pat his feet with the washcloth, lining his wheelchair with the bath blanket and laying it over his wet shoulders when he gets out.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou must be the New Little Girl,\u201d his wife says when she comes to visit.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe says he had a shower this morning. Thank you. I was an aid before I was a nurse, so I know how hard you girls work.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo problem. Glad I could help.\u201d I can\u2019t help smiling because his shower was so memorable he told his wife about it.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d he asks, uncovering the cabbage soup on the lunch tray I brought.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s soup, Ron,\u201d says his wife.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is criminal.\u201d He shakes his head at the tray.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want me to bring you something else?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t bother. He\u2019s been in a mood lately,\u201d his wife mutters with a roll of her eyes, knowing he\u2019s too hard of hearing to understand.<\/p>\n

I bet he was different once, when there was less to complain about.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Like not being able to breathe.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

One month later Ronald wakes up saying he can\u2019t take a full breath and the meds aren\u2019t working.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get the nurse.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jan comes, holding her bright pink stethoscope to his back while I work the vitals cart. They didn\u2019t teach us what to do about congestive heart failure in nursing assistant training.<\/p>\n

\u201cRaise the head of the bed higher,\u201d she says, but he\u2019s slipping down too far. I lower his head, and, feigning confidence, take hold beneath an arm and a leg and pull. By some miracle, all two hundred and sixty pounds of him moves six inches towards the head of the bed.<\/p>\n

Jan\u2019s eyes widen. \u201cGirl, you\u2019re strong for being little.\u201d<\/p>\n

I try to suppress the pride spreading my lips into a smile.<\/p>\n

I raise his head and feet. His face is turning blue.<\/p>\n

Without waiting for the nurse\u2019s direction, I swing his swollen legs over the edge of the bed and support his shoulder, watching the pink return to his face.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe needs oxygen,\u201d Jan says.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m not certified to use oxygen tanks, but there\u2019s one behind me, and Jan doesn\u2019t stop me as I reach for it and press the first button I see. It turns on with a hum and a gasp as I exhale relief. My fingers shake as I stick the tubes in his nostrils, backward at first, then the correct way.<\/p>\n

We watch as his oxygen level climbs, barely, and settles below normal.<\/p>\n

The other nurse, the nurse managers, and the receptionist burst through the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe oxygen\u2019s not working fast enough. Get a mask.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCall 911.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHis daughter wants us to wait to do anything until she arrives.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe can\u2019t wait. Call now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRecord his vitals.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get his papers for transport.\u201d<\/p>\n

And they\u2019re gone, leaving us alone.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There is nothing to do now but sit down beside him, waiting in silence for the EMTs, the nurse with his transport papers, his wife.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs there a cold\u2014washcloth\u2014for my\u2014neck?\u201d he asks between gasps from behind the oxygen mask.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d I run cold water over a towel and rub it back and forth across his neck, feeling the knots in his muscles from straining to breathe.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know,\u201d he says, \u201cfor a new\u2014little girl\u2014you\u2019re not bad.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Below is a short story by junior nursing student Sarah Groh. Sarah was the winner of the National Day of Writing Contest sponsored by Cedarville’s Writing Center. I worked here last summer, too, but of course they don\u2019t remember me. As long as I remember how to take care of them, I don\u2019t mind. I… View Article<\/a>","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-35","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-b-s-n"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/35","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=35"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/35\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":37,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/35\/revisions\/37"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=35"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=35"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cedarville.edu\/thescope\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=35"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}