The Worst Nurse

THE WORST NURSE

Today is my grandmother’s birthday. Mum is a “character” in my memoirSee The Stars They’re Shining Bright. 

If she knew I had written about her the response would be, “Oh, Zaaak.” 

I lived in her house a few times as a young adult. The two of us were a trope: The “wacky mismatched roommates.” 

Every time she said something folksy in her Arkansas accent, I rolled my eyes. 

Every time I stayed up or got up late or did something she didn’t approve of, Mum would respond with “Oh, Zaaak.” 

Like me, my grandmother was non-confrontational; there were nearly no arguments, just the rolled eyes or “Oh, Zaaak.” 

We got on each other's nerves, we loved each other. 

Mum trained to be a nurse. My family still laughs about this---

When you got sick, my grandmother left you to your own devices. 

It wasn’t out of coldness or spite, taking care of the ill just wasn’t Mum’s thing—

Not for her grandson, not for her own children.

I never asked why she became a nurse but I have theories.

Mum grew up in rural Arkansas. 

Those tropes about hillbillies in overalls and no shoes? That was my family.

Mum was as shrewd as she was beautiful. My grandmother saw her future in Western Grove—married to a farmer, raising a score of shoeless kids—and didn’t like it. 

She saw herself as a Southern belle despite her upbringing—

What to do?

Nursing school in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Was her motivation to heal the sick? Most likely not, I believe Mum was hoping to marry a doctor.

She was a sharp, beautiful young woman and knew it—

Again, this is just a theory.

Unfortunately for that plan but fortunately for my family she met my grandfather.

He wasn’t a doctor, but at least he was worldly and had nothing against wearing shoes.

I have no idea how Mum got through nursing school. 

It wasn’t just her bedside manner—stay as far away from the sickbed as possible—it was that she was squeamish. 

If someone destroyed the bathroom in her house, Mum would wear the face of someone about to puke.

“Oh, Zaaak, I’m gonna be ill!”

Her younger brother Bill came out to visit once a year. Uncle Bill was a good old boy, a big man with a big smile and polyester button-down shirts—

And when he used the bathroom Unk Bill made a big stink.

There was just one toilet in Mum’s house and Bill would spend a lot of time in there.

I can still see my grandmother in the hall, cringing, looking at me imploringly as if I could magically remove the stench my great uncle had left behind.

“Oh, Zaaak, I’m going to be sick to my stomach.”

How she survived emptying bedpans I have no idea.

Mum has been gone for twelve years now. 

I still dream about her house, can smell the face cream she put on when she went to bed. 

Hear the creak of her brown leather coat when she put it on. 

I had no idea how valuable those moments would become as memories.

It was just our day-to-day life, as mismatched roommates, as family.