Care workers

When the mother was out of danger again and transferred from the intensive care unit to the general ward, Aunt Zhang came to her mother to take care of her.

Nasal feeding tube, oxygen tube, urinary catheter, and bile drainage tube are inserted on the mother’s body. The trachea is cut, various patches are attached to the chest, and an instrument is connected to the bedside – it will monitor the body’s blood pressure, heartbeat, and heart rate for 24 hours. Oxygen saturation, there are all kinds of data and graphics that I can’t understand are jumping. My mother was suddenly ill, which caused a complete circle of our house to be cut off. The bad condition repeated again and again. I remember that the small box on the closed door of the intensive care unit late at night revealed a cold light, and a square box robot transporting drugs on top of its head would make a “clang, clang, clang” sound, waiting. The room is a vast corridor, and there is no one in the faint light…

Aunt Zhang stood by the bed, spreading her arms: “Don’t move, you don’t need to move. I’ll come, I’ll come!” The short and chubby body is flexible and light. From the head of the bed to the end of the bed, open the tube and hang it. That bag, the mother was settled securely in twos or twos. The bed sheets were flat, the pillows were moderate, and the oxygen tank at the bedside was bubbling.

He was dressed in sky blue overalls, not tall, with thick black skin. Behind him was a braid that stretched to the waist, and a purple butterfly was tied at the end of his hair, which he flicked on his thick back. Asked about her age, she said: “They said your mother is seventy years old, then I should be over seventy. You see, your mother’s skin is still so good, there are no wrinkles at all. I look older than her. “While she said, she patted her face and laughed, her face filled with fine wrinkles as she smiled, spreading from the corners of her eyes and mouth, like the ripples formed by small stones falling into the lake, rippling away in circles. We actually laughed-this is the first time we laughed since my mother suffered a serious illness, and it was still a laugh related to my mother.

In fact, she is only a little over fifty, a native of Chongqing, married to Henan, her eldest son has already married, and her daughter is also talking about marriage, and she has a teenage son in high school. The couple have been in Wenzhou for more than 20 years. In the early years, they opened a restaurant in the Wutian Industrial Zone of Longwan. Her husband bought vegetables, washed vegetables, and cleaned up. She was a chef, served food, and greeted guests. Pay the bill. Others’ male and female leaders, their husbands and wives are upside down, and they cooperate very well. Throughout the year, customers are busy every day. After the New Year, I did not save much money. Later, when I got older and my physical strength was not as good as before, I went to this hospital as a nurse. She thought it was a good job. Her husband was reluctant at first. He always felt that it was really shameful for a big man to give the patients shit, urine, and buttocks here. When I returned to my hometown, I saw that my fellow villager did not dare to say that I was working as a hospital nurse. She didn’t think so: “I earn money from my own labor, and if I don’t steal or snatch, what’s the shame?”

She has a wealth of experience in caring for patients. She raised her hands cleanly, and the instructions given by doctors and nurses made it easy. “Don’t do this.” “I’ll add a little bit tomorrow.” His high voice revealed his professional confidence. I took it seriously, and became her clumsy starter with conviction. Under her care, her mother’s physical condition is improving every day. When the weather was good, she took her mother into the wheelchair, pushed out the ward, and strolled around on the spacious platform, sometimes in the courtyard downstairs. The yard is full of flowers and trees, the pond is rippling with green waves, and the fish swim happily.

Every day when I go to the hospital after get off work, she always reports good news to me: Your mother is fine today, she will lift the quilt. Her right foot was strong and she got up. She doesn’t wear gloves for me… All those naughty actions that sound like a child are signs that the body is gradually regaining consciousness.

My aunt often visits the hospital. My mother is very vague and doesn’t recognize anyone, even her sister. The aunt dared not ask the doctor. She was afraid of the expressionless doctor as cold as a judge’s face-almost never heard the good news, so she always chased the nurse and asked: “Auntie, do you think my sister is better? You have seen a lot of patients, do you think she has anything to do with her?” “Don’t worry, you will get better, you will get better. Everyday you are improving!” Aunt Zhang is always working and full of confidence. , A generous chest, seems to be able to pack a ticket for you.

That night, I took my mother’s hand: “Mom, I’m going back, and I will see you tomorrow.” I don’t know why, the mother lying on the bed took my hand, not speaking, crying or smiling, but watching At the front of Kongkong, but refused to let go. I yelled “Mom” again, and tears couldn’t stop streaming up. In the past two months of sudden and severe illness, ignorant and dazed, like a mother living in another world, is “not letting go” at this moment, conveying an instinct to bury my blood? Aunt Zhang hurriedly comforted: “Don’t cry, don’t cry, you have to be strong. Your mother knows in her heart. We have to be optimistic, she will get better, she will get better…”

Her husband would come from another ward every time she arrived. A recliner by the wall was opened, dragged into a long strip, and turned into a temporary dining table. The couple curled up one leg and sat on each end, each carrying a large bowl. She loves rice, her husband loves pasta, sometimes just a few big buns. There is a large bowl in the middle of the chair. Sometimes it is fried with bacon and pickles, sometimes pepper is mixed with potatoes, and sometimes it is so dark that I can’t understand what it is. I stayed by my mother’s bed after get off work. She posed for a meal and often greeted me: “You haven’t eaten yet? You eat with us too? It’s okay, where to eat together.” I smiled and declined: “It’s too spicy, I can’t eat it.”

One day, she clung to me with a crying face and embarrassed her face, and whispered softly: “Can you buy a pot lid for me? This pot lid was accidentally broken by me. It has been on for several days. Unfamiliar.” It was an induction cooker pot of dozens of pieces with a transparent glass cover. So, I bought a rice cooker from the store and gave it to her. She was very sorry to hear that I was going to “send” it; seeing me insisting, and thanking me in a hurry, I felt uneasy.

At noon every day, she opened the locker beside the bed, took out a black bag, clamped it around her waist, and flashed into the bathroom. After an hour, another black bag was taken out of it and stuffed back into the cabinet. I wonder what she is doing in hiding. She put a finger on her mouth, hinting that I would not say anything. After that, she put it in my ear and lowered her voice: “Cook.” She said that the hospital stipulates that nurses cannot cook in the ward, but they have a lot of food. The food outside is expensive and the amount is not enough. full. With this pot that can both cook and steam vegetables, her secrecy measures are even more in place. Sometimes, when the food is cooked, misty smoke will appear from the air holes on the pot. She closed the bathroom door tightly, worrying about the scent wafting out, and inquiring.

At a certain dinner point, a caregiver who was her age came in at the door and waved to her. She hurried over. The aunt whispered a few words in her ear. After she came back, she was spinning around the bedside, not knowing where to put her hands. I hurriedly asked what was going on. She said: “The hospital security department is coming again to check the tableware and supplies of the nurses. Then where should I put my pot?”

Sure enough, several uniformed security guards swayed back and forth in the corridor, staying for a while at the door of this ward, looking at the door of that ward, and from time to time they used their noses to sniff. It is said that when someone reported that there were nurses on this floor cooking in the ward, they immediately mobilized, wanting to “get all the loot” on the spot, and “kill the chicken and the monkey.”

I said, “Isn’t it safe to put it in the cabinet?”

She said: “No, they will open it here.”

Aunt Zhang prepared dinner for my mother and was obviously uneasy. She is not troubled by the heavy and dirty work, and she is amused from time to time. The uncertainty at this moment makes me sad. The result of the investigation is to lose the job, fined a large sum of money, or confiscated this pot and several pans? She sang “full of sunshine” in the thick tea and light rice. It was originally a duckweed, so strong and vulnerable! An electric rice cooker and three or two large bowls are important assets in a foreign land; three meals a day, firewood, rice, oil and salt, are daily routines that must be accurate to the minute.

One night, the couple sat on a spread chair in the ward for dinner. Two large bowls, filled with rice, placed a large bowl in the middle, the green and red inside, and I don’t understand what it is. She said that after being busy for two days without buying vegetables, she went to the yard downstairs to pick some wild vegetables, boiled them in boiling water, and mixed some peppers. She happily said: “It’s delicious, it’s really delicious.” I don’t believe it very much, but she smiled satisfied.

Once, I met her husband head-on in the hospital corridor. He chuckled, with a strong local accent: “I will come downstairs the day after tomorrow, too.” I didn’t understand where the joy came from. When she came to the ward, Aunt Zhang also happily said that her husband’s next patient lives on this floor. Oh, it turns out that the couple can work as carers on the same floor. She pointed at the other bed in the room and lowered her voice: “If he is discharged from the hospital and the patient of my husband turns over, that would be even better.” After she said that, she covered her mouth and snickered. Too much is so beautiful.

The couple both work outside, and the youngest son has taken care of himself at home early on. In her free time, she would take out her mobile phone, click on WeChat, and chat with her child for a while. She said that the youngest son usually lives on campus, although he does not have his parents at home, he still likes to go home on weekends. Cook your own food, buy your own vegetables, and sometimes just make a bowl of batter. She is a person who is easy to be happy, but when she talks about her little son, her face will be a lot of sadness, which makes people think of the impatiens dali chrysanthemum blooming in the rainy day.

The mother finally left, in the early morning without warning. Aunt Zhang said: “I was fine when I just turned her over.” The alliance between me and her to help each other stopped abruptly, staying on the day my mother left.

A week later, when I went to the nursing agency company to check out, I stopped by to see her. She pushed her wheelchair out, and on the wheelchair sat an eighty-year-old lady who was stricken, like a dry old tree stump.

Standing on the wide platform of the stairwell, the large-area floor-to-ceiling glass wall is spacious and bright, and outside the window is the ever-growing building in this nascent city. A week ago, she and I often used a wheelchair to take my mother here to see the scenery. The sky was blue, the sun was bright, and there was a gentle breeze. Seeing her again, it seemed to touch the last warmth of her mother.