Heather was sick so one of the day girls, Zenith, was covering for her. Zenith zipped around doing everything before I even had a chance, making me look bad because I didn't put enough people to bed. I asked her why she kept doing things I was supposed to do, and she says, "You're slow! I had to do it!" Even though she put some people to bed ten minutes before their scheduled times. And even though Chris is, simultaneously, telling me that I'm too fast and I'm rushing her. (Chris is one of the lovely residents). I love Chris.

Larry was cranky because his catheter was all fucked up, and I was trying to adjust it and tape all these washcloths to his skin and other temporary fixes, until he can see the doctor tomorrow morning. Whenever I tell him anything bad about work, he says, "Keep coming back, honey -- I need you." I swear I might have left otherwise.

To top it all off, I went to put Joyce to bed at 11:30, and she basically said to go away and get someone else. She had a stroke and has aphasia, which means it's hard for her to think of words. She can barely direct her care anymore and gets so frustrated when I don't understand her vague pointing -- "Put it in the -- no! not there! -- Man! Why can't you --" But I can tell by the few things she does say, her body language and expression, that she has no faith in my ability to do anything. She told me to change her bed time so someone else would do it.

I went back and told Amber that Joyce didn't want me putting her to bed, but there was no other bed slot open and I was the only person free. I started crying. Last time I put her to bed, I was putting the sling on her and she blurted out, "You don't know what you're doing!" After a moment of shock and a split second decision *not* to walk out the door, I said calmly, "Yes, I do." But my confidence was ruined for the rest of the half hour, and confidence and intuition are what you need when dealing with someone who can barely speak anymore.

So after wiping my mascara off my cheek I went back to Joyce looking like Audrey Hepburn with the mean reds, and said, "I'm sorry, this is the only bedtime open." And it was ok. You almost have to be a mind reader to do all her bed stuff in a timely fashion. She has all these specific pillows that go under her knee or next to her wrist, her remote and call light in a certain spot on the bed, glasses in the kleenex box, and so on. But I didn't cry anymore.

Before I left I went down to Krista's room and fed her banana bread "with tons of butter" while she lay in bed watching South Park.

Lately I've been helping Kim post a personal ad -- helping her take a photo of herself and upload it, and thinking of witty things for her profile. She's so nervous, she wants to bring me along if she ever actually meets one of these guys. I explained in her profile that she had brain cancer ten years ago, and the surgery affected her balance, so she needs a wheelchair. She can still move everything, she just can't balance. I didn't mention that her hair grew back thin after chemo, and her vocal chords were affected, so her voice sounds funny. Underneath she's sharp as a whip and has a great sense of humor. It breaks my heart that most people would have a hard time getting past the outside -- I did, when I first met her.

Well I guess it wasn't such a bad day -- and now I have three days off. I'm about to burrow into the cave of my bed, in my newly clean room. My goals for my days off are to fix my bike, renew my car registration so I'm legal, and do fun things with Donna outside.