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Age of Wisdom

True Story of My Work as a Certified Nursing Assistant

By Jennifer Lorraine - Bloch McGeePublished about a year ago 1 min read
Age of Wisdom
Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

A woman of one hundred and one,

though she cannot speak except to choke a violent cough,

rubs my arm when I pull the covers tight.

As I pass through her door, I am detained.

A woman of eighty-eight groans that,

as a one-hundred-year-old grandma,

she must soon be in bed.

She always thanks me when I turn off her light.

Ralph sits in his usual spot

not really sure why he's there.

I walk him to his room where he begs me to stay with him,

half-weeping over a fabrication of his mind.

I will never leave them behind.

They are a part of me; no matter how many times I say goodbye or

close doors behind me.


"John, turn around. It's time to eat."

He figets silently, while eating, then whispers, "I had a dream about you."

His words halt my attempts to keep him focused on his meal.

Looking around, as though to ensure no one could hear, he says:

"Everything seems like a dream."

"You mean everything is blurry?" I ask confused.

He shakes his head, "No, I...don't know where I am."

I furrow my brow and tell him, "You're at Saint Benedict Center."

He looks at me and says, "I know that. It all seems like a dream."

Caught in the aura that appears to surround him, I stare blankly. He leans

in, waiting for a response.

I am shocked by his display of hyperclairty, and a soundness

long since gone. It is as though, he is 20 years younger and we are at tea,

not a nursing home. The serene smile slides from his face; he

sees that I do not understand. My

missed opportunity.

Waving a hand about vaguely he reads my nametag: "Jenny Blotch."

"My name is Bloch." He insists he read it correctly.

Looking down his nose at me he says,

"What we see and what we know are not necessarily the same,

and may have no connection."

He goes back to eating as I ponder his earlier intuition:

"To me, laughter sounds like music."

I could almost hear what he meant.


About the Creator

Jennifer Lorraine - Bloch McGee

*Imagination is the plaything of fairies. Without imagination we are doomed*

My heart and soul goes into my writing. If I don't bleed a little, I haven't done it right.

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  • Mohamed Jakkathabout a year ago

    Thank you for sharing such a moving story, Jennifer. Your work as a certified nursing assistant is incredibly important and often goes unnoticed. The way you care for these individuals and form a connection with them is truly remarkable. Reading about John's display of hyperclarity and the way he shared his thoughts with you was especially poignant. Thank you for giving us a glimpse into the lives of these individuals and for sharing their stories with us. Your compassion and dedication are inspiring.

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