I’m a nurse. It’s been a dream of mine to help people out ever since I was a little girl. Well, after years of med school I’m finally here, making a difference. But…I’m not exactly where I wanted to be. I wanted to work in a hospital, saving lives making a difference…but what I do right now makes me feel useless…As if I make no difference whether someone lives or dies.
I work in a nursing home. That probably sounds great. It sounds like I’m a great person, caring for the elderly. Well, that’s not exactly the case. Where I work, there’s death everyday. Everyone here is miserable. Even I, a once happy-go-lucky girl, am now clouded with doom and gloom. However, I stayed in this place for years. I wanted to help, even if it was taking a toll on my mental and physical health.
It all started a few months ago, when new little old lady came in. From what they told us, she had no friends or family. In all honesty, I didn’t know who the person who dropped her off even was. Nobody told me anything. Her name was Agatha, and she was the sweetest thing. I felt bad for her though. Her mind was there, but her body was gone. By gone I don’t mean dead, I mean she couldn’t move a muscle. It seemed the only thing that she could move on her own was her mouth; and even that didn’t move much.
You see, she was a very shy lady. She only spoke when needed, and didn’t really connect with the other residents. One day she called me into her room. This was about three weeks into her stay. I assumed she needed to go to the bathroom, so I asked her if she needed anything.
However, when I asked she shook her head ‘no.’ I could tell something was off, so I came closer to her bed. “Is something wrong, Agatha?” I asked.
For the first time ever, I heard her raspy voice speak for something other than food. “Come sit with me, dear.” In awe, I nodded, smiled, and pulled a chair next to her bed. “Samantha is your name, correct?” She asked.
“Yes, it is,” I smiled. “If you want, you can call me Sam, that’s what most of the other residents call me. It’s easier to pronounce.”
“Oh, but Samantha is such a pretty name. Much prettier than Agatha.” The old lady joked. Taken aback, I smiled, not sure what to say. I was surprised she was able to joke around at her age. Hell, I was surprised she was talking to me at all. Her whole body, neck down, couldn’t move or function. She couldn’t even sit without being held up. However, she was still sweet and making jokes. It really gave me hope. Maybe my job wasn’t as dreary as it seemed.
“How’s about we give you a nickname then. How does Aggie sound?” I suggested.
Agatha smiled. “It sounds lovely, Sam.”
After that day Aggie and I would talk for hours. On my break, during meal time, and at night even after I clocked out. We grew a connection, much more of one than I’ve had with any other residents. It really made my day, seeing her smile.
One day, about two months after she arrived, she called me into her room. It was just before my shift ended, at about 3 in the morning. I was doing my last med run when I heard her raspy voice. “Sam, Sam come in please.”
I smiled as I slowly creaked open the door. However, the smile quickly faded when I looked over to her. The room was dark, yet I was still able to make out where Aggie was. She was sitting up, having a conversation with a dark spot in the room.
Now creeped out, I looked to Aggie, still sitting up, still talking. “Aggie, you can’t be sitting up! You’ll hurt yourself-“ I started to say as I walked over to her.
“Oh Sam, thank you for everything you’ve done! I feel more alive then ever. Come talk with us, Sam.” Aggie says, gesturing to the dark spot in the room.
“Aggie, who are you talking to?” I asked, unable to stop the shaking in my voice.
“Oh, you don’t know? I’m talking to Peter,” Aggie says, smiling.
I stepped back, my heart pounding. Before I could get any words in, Aggie started nodding her head. She then turning back to me, smiling. “Peter says he knows you too! Why don’t you come say hi?”
Body shaking, voice quivering, I slowly stepped out of the room. “H-Hold o-on right th-there Aggie, I’ll be r-right back…”
Unable to contain myself, I shut the door and fell to my knees, gasping for breath. Right away, my co worker Anne ran up to me, helping me to my feet. “Sam! Sam! Are you okay, what happened??” Anne asked frantically.
“It’s Agatha…she’s sitting up by herself…talking to someone named peter!” I said, shakily pointing to Agatha’s door.
However, Anna looked confused instead of scared. “Sam, what are you talking about?”
Breathing heavily, I stood up, and pointed to Agatha’s door once more. “Just go in there! You’ll see what I mean.”
Anne stood there, looking at me with a puzzled look. “Sam, why would I look in a janitor closet? And who are you talking about!?”
“What?” I looked up at Agatha’s door. Sure enough, it was labeled “Janitor.”
I fell back, heart still pounding. “What the fuck is going on!? I was JUST in there, in Agatha Jones’ room!”
“Sam…Agatha Jones has been dead for fifty years.”