C'est la vie

She stared at the screen, eyes blood shot red, spine spasming, and thought, “I don’t have it in me. I can’t create with my tank on Empty.” She had worked 14 straight nights. Sunday would be her first day off. Or so she thought. “Could you cover this Sunday? I hate to ask but we are short.” begged the supervisor. She had put in for a transfer on the 9th night but Corporate denied the request. She was also embroiled in a CNA suspension whom she reported sleeping, “Could you please give another statement as to how many times you saw the aide sleeping and what you did to intervene?” questioned the Director of Nursing in a seemingly innocuous office email. The Company had already settled in two lawsuits of negligent death, now there’s Sleep-Gate.

“Good morning beautiful,” texted Brian. She had no clue who he was. Maybe from OKCupid. Maybe from that dance club last summer. She didn’t know and had no interest putting any thought into it. “Hi. I’m headed to the gym,” she lied, “talk to you soon,” another lie. She wondered why he kept texting her, “Because you have no interest in him.” she answered aloud.

But she also had no interest in sex, “The longer I go without sex, the longer I can go without sex.” she remembered saying to her therapist. She didn’t  even have interest in self-pleasure. But her body told another story. When counting narcs with Remi, the half Egyptian, half Russian male nurse, she felt a heavy moisture between her legs, “Great. Just what I need. My period.” she grimaced to herself. When she went to the bathroom to survey the damage, she found clear slippery fluid instead. It seems standing next to an attractive man made her body prepare for an act that was never going to come (tongue in cheek).

So she sits and writes with no particular purpose, other than to say, “I am still here. Battered but still here.”

jeff pics