The scream of the door alarm could barely be distinguished above the din of crying, shouting, call buzzers, and the constant moaning of nursing home life.
"Jesus, did anybody check for the elopement?" Beth tried to yell above the noise. Nobody moved to help the frustrated charge nurse. Walking briskly to the now unsecured, secure door, Beth wondered why she had left the safety of the school system for the chaos of elderly care.
"Oh, yeah," she smirked, "more money."
Not only was the money great but the benefits were sweet. She could not resist the offer. Friends warned her about it sounding to good to be true but she just needed to make it work for a couple of years to settle her school debt. Then she could return to the work she really enjoyed; kids.
Beth pushed the door open to look for her escapee. A wind gusted bitter cold air in her face and took her breath away. Pulling her sweater around her, Beth stepped out into the frigid December morning. A quick scan of the courtyard found her run away huddled next to the bushes, shivering.
"Mrs. Whitehouse! You'll freeze out here. Come with me," Beth took the woman's elbow.
"No, please, no, I can't go back inside. He's there waiting. He'll take me. No, please..." the woman ranted on and on.
Beth ignored the woman's pleading and marshaled her back threw the door. To Beth, all these dementia cases were either afraid or angry. Always crying or screaming about something that does not exist.
"Could I get a little help down here?"
Two aides rolled their eyes as they ambled over to assist. Beth was growing to hate the nursing aides. She saw them as lazy, uneducated riff raff the state forced off welfare with six weeks of lessons in the care and feeding of the elderly and then set them loose on society. By and large, Beth believed most were not competent to care for pets never mind crazy, old people.
"Mrs. Whitehouse, why you running away so much?" Angel's English not so good, Beth thought.
"Oh, he's here for me, he's wants me next, that man in black."
Both aides crossed themselves immediately. Angel put her arms around the old woman and hugged her while the other aide hurried away. Beth thought it must be the girl's break time.
"Oh, Mrs. Whitehouse, you be OK. We let you sleep in the empty bed. That man never find you there."
"What? No way. We are not playing hide and seek here. There is no reason she can't go to her own bed," Beth hated when the aides fed into the delusions.
"But last night, he took her roommate. Nobody opened the window so he can't leave. She saw him last, so she next," Angel tried to appeal to Beth.
"That's it! You're on report," Beth lost it. "You've been told over and over not to indulge in these people and their fantasies. Maybe now you'll learn. Put her back in her own room! I'm calling to doctor to get a sedative for her."
The afternoon passed without anymore door alarms being triggered. Beth made a mental note to ask for Ativan more often. It really seemed to do the trick.
"Oh my God, Mother help us..." the screaming began just before change of shift.
"What now?" Beth grab the hysterical aide by the shoulders.
"Mrs. Whitehouse is dead," the aide was blubbering.
Beth heard the panic in the murmurs of the aides. They were so superstitious. One simple death of an delusional woman and the world is ending. Beth convinced the change of shift nurse to do the paperwork as long as she took care of the body. Glancing at the clock, Beth figured she would still get home on time.
"People, just relax. Mrs. Whitehouse was old and frail and it was her time. Now, I need two of you to prepare the body," Beth was sure they would jump at overtime but nobody moved.
Minutes ticked by and still nobody volunteered. Beth tried asking a couple directly but they claimed child care issues. She was pretty sure one of them did not have kids.
"I will help. Mrs. Whitehouse a nice lady. I help you make her ready," Angel spoke up.
"Fine," Beth thought the woman was trying to get out of the written warning but that was not going to work. Beth planned to write the reprimand first thing in the morning.
Angel scampered down the hall gathering the needed materials. Beth went into Mrs. Whitehouse's room. The body appeared to be sleeping except for the gray pallor and the stillness that settled in the room.
The two set about the work of preparing the body for the family to visit or the undertaker to bag; which ever came first. There was stripping and washing and combing and tucking to be done. They would prop the stiffening body to look as clean and natural as people imagined a dignified death to be.
"Angel," Beth began before she straightened only to see the aide staring out the window over Beth's shoulder, "What is it?" Beth glanced backward.
"Nothing, just snow maybe. Here, I take the dirty linen," Angel quickly gathered the towels and rushed out of the room.
Beth shrugged off her actions and began to tuck the blankets around the chilling corpse. Smoothing the edge under the mattress, Beth saw the tip of a black shoe creeping out from under the foot board.
"Jesus!" Beth stumbled back and almost fell.
A tall man stood, silent, at the foot of the bed. He was dressed in black from his shoes to the rim of his hat. His features were hard, chiseled, but not unkind.
"You scared me half to death. Are you the undertaker?" Then noticing it was not a typical funeral directors suit with the bright white shirt, "Oh, the minister, I bet. Here for Mrs. Whitehouse?" the man smiled and tipped his hat slightly toward Beth.
Beth turned to look at the body on the bed. They did position her to mimic sleep but the pale, marble like skin gave away the secret. At that moment, Beth realized that man at the foot of the bed seemed just as pale.
"What is your name?" Beth spun around but the man was gone.
Running into the hallway, Beth bumped into Angel.
"Where did he go?"
Nobody answered. The aides just carried on with their work. Angel put her arm around Beth.
"Nobody, Miss Beth, nobody there but you and me. You just tired. That all, you need rest," for the first time today, Angel was making sense to Beth.
"Yeah, tired."
"You go home. Take a hot shower. Then early to bed."
"Yes, that does sound good. The work will still be here tomorrow," Beth made a mental note not to forget to write Angel up in the morning.
"Yes, that will make everything better for you," Angel smiled and hugged Beth close. "Oh, be sure you clear your head, open window before you go sleeping."