Chapter One, Episode 161 - Which Ends - Situationally Theirs

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“Sometimes a writer commits himself to an ending that doesn't work. He has constructed a story that has one inevitable conclusion, but by the time he's written that story, it becomes apparent that the previously planned outcome is a mistake” - Nancy Lamb, The Art and Craft of Storytelling

My biggest struggle with writing, since I began my writing journey over 25 years ago, has been endings. I have tended to just stop and probably still do. The episodic nature of this story has challenged me to listen to my characters and write down each ending as they tell it, not what I think is a good idea. Introducing the character of Carrie Tyler and her possible connection to Emelina Beaufort, was a good idea at the time. As I progressed through her story, she told me how this part of her story should end. There are still unanswered questions - did she get home? did she and Emelina continue writing? I remember feeling that this part of Emelina's story was about to overtake all the earlier episodes. Was it important to introduce this character at all?

As far as today's revision goes, there were few little fixes to be done, and I did add a line to Carrie's letter when she reminded me that her father had notified the RCMP that she was missing. (I'm sure she didn't mention that in my previous post).

Which Ends

There is no ending to this or any other story. As with all of life and the stories within it, they all roll on to a natural end. The end that we all meet. But before that final end, each of us goes our separate ways on to new adventures or a return to finish old business. Sometimes we never really know when a story ends or continues elsewhere.

~~~~~

The mail had slowed a bit but was still regular, especially with bills. Today, when the mail slot at the kitchen door clunked open and closed, it was really no different except for what else it contained. Emelina had picked the mail up on her way into the house. On one piece of mail, she recognized Carrie’s writing. Finally a letter. She’s much stronger now. Emmie had continued writing, but had not received any replies. This letter wasn’t the usual slim envelope. It was longer and a bit thicker. “Dez.” Emelina paused. “This is unusual.” She was with her sister, who had come to the Estate for the week. Having time off from work, Dez had packed a small suitcase and come out to her orchard, now devoid of all but a few apples. “Let me see that, Em.” Emelina had taken the mail up to the living room to open the thicker letter. The others, the gas bill, the water bill, she delivered to Digby on her way past his office. In hushed tones, she said “Dez, it’s the adoption papers.” Her sister picked up a page of paper from where it had drifted down beside the sofa. Gently she said “Here Em. I think this slipped out………..” She glanced at it while handing it to her sister. “Em, it’s a copy of the photo and your name: ‘Emelina Eliot’.” Slowly, Emelina stood and reached for the copied photo and, along with the adoption papers, took them to the dining room table. Setting them down carefully, she looked out past the window to the land outside. Her hands felt for the papers. Finding them, she dropped her gaze and spread them out, much as Carrie’s father had when he and his wife were telling Carrie of her birth. “The adoption papers are copies too, Dez. See, it’s stamped up in the corner.” Emelina picked up the letter, written in Carrie’s careful much stronger hand. Pacing, she started reading.

Hello Emelina, 

It was lovely to meet you even if we were behind our masks and not able to touch. I was surprised at how little I felt that day except for how very tired I was. Beginning to feel like I was incredibly alone in this world, your visit was like a great breath of fresh air.

I have more reason to write this letter than usual. I did call my parents that day while the social worker was here. My father was frantic. They had been trying to contact me, but with my cell phone confiscated, all they got was voicemail. Dad had just been talking to the RCMP to search for me. With my mom in the hospital and me missing, he was frightened. Mom isn't sick with the virus, but apparently had a mild stroke. She will have to be in rehab for a time. I am going home to Ontario within the next few days. My dad needs me. I may not be much help as I am still recovering, but at least I’ll be there with them. 

I may be  gone when you get this letter. I wanted you to at least have copies of these so you can let me know if this picture is of you and the signatures are of your parents. I’m sorry to have not let you know sooner, but I’ve been extremely upset. I’ve enclosed my address and telephone number …….. 

Emmie couldn’t finish reading the letter. “Here Dez. I can’t finish it. How could it end like this??” Emmie was furious. Furious at Jeremy for getting her mixed up in this. Furious at Carrie for just leaving. Furious at herself for buying into the whole thing.

Dez continued reading aloud ….. “I’ve enclosed my address and telephone number. I suspect you must be angry with this situation. I think I understand. Be well, Emelina. Please call me.

Your good friend,

Carrie Tyler (Carter)

p.s. we still have much to discuss.

“You need to make time for your family no matter what happens in your life.”

~ Matthew Quick, The Silver Linings Playbook

Chapter One, Episode 160 - Time Sensitive - Situationally Theirs

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“In all your characters, it's critical to honour the emotional underpinnings that support and drive their behaviour.” - Nancy Lamb, The Art and Craft of Storytelling

There were few edits to make in this Episode. Once that was completed and from my kitchen window, I watched a girl with her dog, the sky, wondered about the blue pail on the ground and struggled with what writing issue this episode had posed. Nancy Lamb provided me with the answer: “emotional underpinnings”. Writing what you know comes into play again. i.e. losing your cell phone - frustration; only hearing part of a situation “Why are you at the hospital?” - sudden panic and concern. My lesson from this? Character development is more than how tall someone is, what clothes they wear or the freckles on their face. It is a character's emotional response to life from past and present experience and future hopes or worries. 

Time Sensitive

Taking risks always comes at a price. If anyone had asked her, Emelina would have been surprised that visiting Carrie was a risk. Would the unknown 'anyone' have been concerned that it was contracting this virus, being another statistic for the Public Health Officers? She was actually quite rigorous with following all the guidelines laid down, especially when she was in public. As she walked away from the hospital, she felt, but didn't understand, the real risk. All protective garb she had worn remained within the hospital walls; she felt empty and vulnerable. And the pain. It flooded her being. The intensity of it made her catch her breath. Fear of the virus jumped immediately to the front of her mind. Intellectually, she knew that even if she had been exposed, she would not immediately become symptomatic. She dug in her purse for her personal mask, brushing her hand against her cell phone, willing it to ring with a call from Carrie.

~~~~~

In her apartment, Dez was standing at her open refrigerator trying to find her supper. Half an apple in a bowl, shrivelled and brown. The last slice of processed cheese sitting on top of a half empty take out container of pad thai. Eggs. She pulled open the vegetable drawer. That looked more promising. Fresh strawberries, mushrooms, green onions. Hmmm. Maybe an omelet. She heard the distant buzzing of her phone. Pushing the drawer shut with her toe and closing the door, she stood almost to attention and listened. “Where did I put my phone this time!?” Following the sound into the living room she looked under a haphazard pile of magazines, the top of the TV stand, and under the couch cushions. The buzzing stopped. “I hope they call back or leave a message.” She kept looking. “When did I use it last? Hm. When I was out on the balcony? I called Matt for some orchard advice. We talked for a while and I came in here. I took my sweater off, and threw it……” She was scanning the room for any sign of her phone. Confidently she said “I know where it is.” She scooped up her favourite old sweater, the one with the big pockets and rescued her cell phone from becoming just another piece of laundry. The caller hung up again. “Dammit! I wasn’t fast enough.” Scrolling through the recent calls, Dez saw Emmie’s phone number pop up. 

~~~~~

“Emmie, what’s up? Sorry I didn’t answer, but I couldn’t find my phone. You’ll never believe where it was……Em?…Are you ok?” All she could hear was a muffled sob. “I’m scared Dez, or I’m sick, or I don’t know what’s wrong?”  Dez was all business. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.” Putting her phone on speaker, she grabbed her keys and her purse, picked up her phone and started out the door. “I’m at the hospital, in the parking lot. Dez, I’m not really sick, I just feel so strange.” Getting down to her car, Dez set the phone on the seat next to her. “Keep talking, Em. I’m on my way.” She hadn’t heard her sister in this much anguish before. She didn’t want to imagine what could be wrong, but her mind was filled with dread. “Dez, please drive carefully. Really. I’m not ill. I just need to talk to you. You always help me make sense of things.” Now Emmie was worried that Dez was so worried. “If you’re not sick, why are you at the hospital? That's where people go when they’re sick.” Pulling into the hospital parking lot, she could see her sister leaning up against her car talking on her phone. Dez pulled into the parking space three cars over and was out of the car instantly. In seconds she was by her sister’s side, wrapping her in a big bear hug. “I’m alright Dez, really. I just came here to meet Carrie. I think it was a mistake, or maybe not.” Tension drained from Dez’s face. “You did what? Did she ask you to come? When did you decide on this harebrained scheme?” Emmie took a step back. “Dez, let me answer one question at a time. I thought you’d be able to help me out, but you’re acting like you’re mad at me. Can’t we go somewhere and talk this out?” 

“I’m sorry, Em but when you called me, told me you were sick and at the hospital, my mind just went crazy. Ever since Jeremy called about this Carrie person, you’ve been a mess. Not every second, but enough that I haven’t recognized my sister.” Dez knew she had to calm down, her sister wanted to talk to her about something. “Ok. You probably haven’t eaten yet have you. Have you even eaten today?” 

“It’s always about food with you, Dez.” Emelina laughed for the first time since leaving the hospital. It felt good. “Of course I’ve eaten today. Do you really think Cook would let me get away without eating anything? Now that you mention it though, I’m starving! See that little soup and salad place across the street and down the block? Their Open sign is lit up. Let’s go there.”

~~~~~

Leaving their cars in the half empty parking lot, the sisters went for an early supper. Emmie told Dez went to see Carrie on a whim. She was curious about her, but it was more than just seeing and hearing her. Part of her past had been sitting heavily on her shoulders and drifting through her sleep, hovering around her like a mist that she couldn’t see through. When she was finally face to face with Carrie, the mist only got heavier. In hospital garb, sitting in a wheelchair, and wearing a mask, the only person she saw was thin, weak and pale. Did she recognize anything? Either Michael or herself? There was no opportunity to see either the photograph or the alleged Adoption papers. Carrie had not been able to remember any signatures on them. All she recalled was that she had to come to Hartley. Dez listened to her sister try to explain the meeting, saw the confusion and hurt on her face and wanted to fix it all. They both knew that Emmie would not turn her back on Carrie. Not just for Carrie’s sake, but for herself and the 16 year old girl she had been. 

“We are more often frightened than hurt, and we suffer 

more from imagination than from reality.”

~ Seneca

Chapter One, Episode 159 - Common Ground - Situationally Theirs

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“So let every encounter between your characters be important. Remember that it's when you as the writer understand the significance of character relationships that you are able to most profoundly understand the characters themselves.” - Katherine O'Chee, 8 Secrets to Writing Strong Character Relationships from her blog site Writer's Edit.

In this episode, there are several characters. Two minor ones - Miss Green, RN and the nurse's aide. Miss Green plays an important role in creating a setting for this most uncomfortable relationship between strangers. In Katherine O'Chee's 8 Secrets she also speaks of the importance of back stories for each character as the rationale for the relationship is developed. The two main characters for this episode, Emelina Beaufort and Carrie Tyler take tentative steps to learn how their individual back stories converge. Once more, I am fascinated by all the construct that is writing, whether it be fiction or non-fiction. 

Common Ground

“Mrs. Tyler, would you like a visitor?” 

Dressed per hospital protocol in full protective garb - gown, mask, head covering and gloves, Miss Green, RN was on duty again. Other nurses would only give their first names, but Miss Green, RN, as her colleagues spoke of her, was ‘old school’. “In my day” only last names were used,  and very frequently with out the ‘Miss’. Her patient looked much better today, although she was still pretty low on energy. Although it was none of her business, she was curious about such a pretty girl getting into this fix. 

~~~~~

Carrie was tired, not sure she was up to another round of questions about her past. In a strained, quiet voice she said “Is it the Social Worker again? He did say he’d be back today. Do you think he could come back in about an hour? I really don’t think I’m up to it.” Carrie had been napping, like she did everyday. Naps had always been a favourite since she had been a child, and her mother told her she was ‘the easiest baby to put down for her afternoon nap.’ But this napping every hour was not the same, she just couldn’t help drifting off. Now that she was able to read the few books donated to the Covid19 ward, she would wake to find the book, still in her hand, but heavy and flat on her chest. She was stiff and sore from lying in bed all day. 

“No, it’s not the Social Worker, dear. Do you have any memory of the night you came in…….no, of course you don’t. You were so sick, we didn’t think you’d  survive the night.” Miss Green may have been ‘old school’, but she could also be quite chatty from time to time. “It's the woman who came up here in the middle of the night because the doctor on call contacted her.” Miss Green was taking clean hospital garments out of the pass through cupboards that had been created for this ward. “I can’t be certain but I think it's the woman you have been corresponding with.” Carrie’s lethargy evaporated,  and she became animated with excitement. “Where is that mirror? I must look awful. I’m so thin and pale.” Carrie reached into the bedside table for her brush, one of the few things they allowed her to keep. Such personal items were soaked in antiseptic each night and most definitely before her discharge. “I’ll need a clean nightgown and housecoat, please and I want to get up in the wheelchair.” In a rush, she sat up quickly and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was about to stand when blackness folded suddenly around her. Miss Green instantly supported her, one arm around her shoulders, leaning in while pulling the wheelchair forward with her other arm. “I’m all right. Just a little dizzy.” Carrie barely whispered, tried to stand again, but had no strength. Sternly her nurse contradicted her “No, no you’re not all right. You’re moving too quickly.” Miss Green let go of the wheelchair - this thing is in the way. “There now. Sit back on the bed.” At the same time she rang the call light. One of the nurses aides came quickly to the door. “Come in Mary, towels and wash cloths by the sink - wet one of the wash cloths with cold water. Thank you. I think we’ll be all right now.” In short order, Carrie, no longer dizzy, was washed, her hair combed and tied back, and changed into clean hospital attire. Those tasks completed, she was assisted to the bathroom in the wheelchair. Looking at herself in the mirror she said to herself and then to her nurse “I think I’m ready now - I hope my visitor is still here.....I’m finished in here, Miss Green.” 

~~~~~

“Your bed is all made. Here’s a blanket for your knees. Did we get your socks on? Yes… Now you're ready. Can I bring her in now?….Oh, your mask! Quick put it on.” After ushering Emelina Beaufort into Carrie’s room and reminding them that the visit was only to be 20 minutes, Miss Green left the room, returned to the nurse station and wrote up a brief note in Mrs. Tyler’s chart.

For a few minutes the two women just looked at each other. This very artificial setting for a first meeting was very uncomfortable. Both women were thinking the same thing, that the letters they wrote had been easy, merely polite conversation between strangers. Neither  of them knew what to say. Silence ballooned in the room. Behind their masks, they both started to smile. A smile that crept up to their eyes only visible by the appearance of tiny, crinkling smile lines at the corners of their eyes. “So who goes first?” Emelina popped the balloon with just four words. Carrie settled more comfortably in her chair “I suppose I should. I’m kind of the host. I really don’t know what to say. I can’t believe that you’re actually here, that I’m actually talking to you.”

Emelina had just come to the hospital on a whim, wanting to meet this young woman who had stirred up the past. At first she just wanted to wait until Carrie was out of the hospital, but the more she thought about it, the more excited she got. “Let’s go slow. We really don’t know anything more than we are new friends.”

“Haven’t you seen the photo or the adoption papers? Surely you’d recognize the photo and the signatures.” Carrie, in one of her foggy dreamy states from yesterday or the day before, was sure Emelina had seen both of them. So certain that she believed it to be true.

“No, I haven’t. As far as I know I am waiting on the Social Worker to verify them with someone….I don’t really know what he - or she - has to do. How is your memory about the signatures? Did your parents tell you anything about where you were born?” Emelina’s curiosity had won out over her initial awkwardness. 

“What did they tell me? My memory is so hit or miss, that I’ll have to think more about it. Mom and Dad don’t even know I’m in the hospital. They're probably worried sick. They haven’t heard from me in - how long have I been here? Probably before that. I’ll call them and…” Pulling a tissue from the box on her lap, she dried her tears. “Seems I have very little emotional control. The only thing I remember is that I had to come here to Hartley - I didn’t plan on getting sick like this, though.” Carrie and Emelina both laughed, breaking any remaining tension. “You might ask the Social Worker to see if you were born here. I don’t know what name you would have been registered under, but he may be able to find out.”

There was a light knock on the door to Carrie’s room. A nurses aide stepped just inside. “I have a message for you, Mrs.Tyler. The Social Worker called and said he’d be up here in half an hour.” Turning to Emelina she said. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to cut your visit short. We need to have time to clean the chairs and touch surfaces between visitors.” At the sound of a call bell, in a flash she was gone. 

Emelina stood to go. She wanted desperately to touch this young woman, even if it was a gentle hand to her thin hand. Choking on emotion, she just said “I’ve left my phone number with the nurses. If, for any reason, you want to call me, please do.” Just before leaving the room, Emelina turned back, her eyes smiling  “And, Carrie, please remember to call your parents.” 

“A certain awkwardness marks the use of borrowed thoughts; but 

as soon as we have learned what to do with then, they become our own.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter One, Episode 158 - Revelation - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

“How your characters act and react - how they think and feel; how they handle obstacles and respond to people, places and things - is story. - Nancy Lamb, The Art and Craft of Storytelling”

In this episode, I introduced more fully the unexpected character of Carrie Tyler. What I had failed to do was clearly identify who, in the series, she was related to. I suppose I was assuming that everyone read everything and remembered that she is Emelina Beaufort's daughter. Another issue about character development by the same author discusses the authenticity of a character and building empathy. I did not want this to feel like poor Carrie was dropped from the sky but had a purpose for her presence in the story. My revisions today, besides some minor sentence structure issues, have connected Carrie's story to the larger story of Situationally Theirs.

Revelation

People at the hospital kept calling her Mrs.Tyler, her legal name, but she hadn’t been that for quite some time, losing any contact with her husband after their second child was born. On his way out the door, he said he would be back soon, but only called her a couple of times. When she hadn’t heard from him for a month, she contacted his brother. He was talking with him regularly and didn’t want any further contact from her. Carrie had been half expecting to hear that, but from her husband, not his brother and definitely not over the phone. She had yet to change her name. Legally, it was such ball of knotted yarn she had only ever started it. Raising two kids on her own meant working two, sometimes three jobs, just to pay her bills, and put away a small nest-egg by giving up things for herself. If her mother and father had not been so amazing, the outcome would have been very different.

~~~~~

Carrie was disappointed in herself. Her thin, weakened body betraying her, she could do nothing by lie limp and drained between cold hospital sheets. Inside, she was restless and wanted to leave the hospital, her bed and her room, desperately longing to continue her search for her birth mother. She had come so far. All the way across the country, working at whatever job available, only to get to Alberta and the shut down that came with the spread of the Covid19 virus. Jobs were not only scarce, they were practically non-existent. Applying for financial aid from the government, she had to stay in one place, barely scraping by until she was enrolled. Fortunately she had the security of an unchanging email address and a good telephone plan. Unfortunately, she had to dip into her meagre savings so those few bills would be paid at least for a time. Cheap hotels, motels and on some nights a doorway, a copse of trees or under a bridge were her lot. When options for shelter were becoming increasingly limited, she dug deeper into hard won savings for the most inexpensive but sturdy camping gear in whatever store was still open. After losing her last job, when its doors closed, and reviewing her situation, she knew she was in much deeper trouble. There was nothing good about it except that she had, not just a goal, but a location where she might find her birth mother. She had carried this most important clue everywhere.

~~~~~

It was after the children had gone to bed. Carrie and her parents settled themselves in the living room. After a few minutes of silence, Carrie’s mother began fidgeting “Anyone want coffee or tea, hot chocolate? I’m going to put the kettle on. A little plate of cookies would be nice, don’t you think?” Mrs. Carter nodded to her husband “Ed, why don’t you get those papers that we want to show Carrie.” Carrie stood and followed her mother. “Mom, I’ll come and help you. Dad, hot chocolate is your favourite at this time of night, isn’t it?……with whipped cream?” On her way by her dad, she kissed him on top of his head. Ed Carter felt his eyes tear up. “What would I do without you, you sweet girl.” Forcing a serious and stern demeanour, he went to his den for the Adoption papers. This weekend would tell him if he would lose his 30 year old little girl or not.

“We decided we couldn’t put it off any longer.” Carrie’s mother barely kept eye contact with her as she started to talk. “Put off what, mom? And what are those papers you’ve got hidden in that folder, dad?” Always able to talk to her parents about anything from the time she was a little girl, this was an unusually tense situation. They were so nervous. “Who wants to go first? Please, I really don’t like this.” Carrie laughed nervously. “Is one of you dying or something? Are you criminals finally found by the police? Are you not really my parents……..?” Her eyes stinging with tears, Carrie didn’t know whether to sit frozen or to run. “Oh, Carrie, we’ve always wanted to tell you but there was never the right time.” Mrs. Carter put her teacup down, splashing tea on her dress. “Carrie, you have always been my little girl and always will be.” Ed smoothed the adoption papers out on the coffee table. Mrs. Carter reached for the folder and took something out of it. She leaned into her husband and whispered. “Can I give this to her, Ed?” Her husband nodded and patted her hand. “Now, mother, let’s just slow down. We need to listen to what Carrie has to say first.” The silence thickened and spread. “I don’t have much to say. You are my parents…adopted or birth parents….it doesn’t matter. I love you both and you are my mom and dad.” Even so, there were a lot of tears and some anger after years of that secret slipping between them like a dangerous silken scarf. Once the secret was revealed, they all understood much more about each other. Her parents knew that they had done the right thing for their girl. Carrie’s need to know her birthmother was born that evening, made real in an old black and white photograph, a name printed on the back: Emelina Eliot. 

“There is an ancient tribal proverb I once heard in India. It says that 

before we can see properly we must first shed our tears to clear the way.”

~ Libba Bray, The Sweet Far Thing

Chapter One, Episode 157 - Piece Work - Situationally Theirs

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Creating a credible and easily followed timeline in storytelling creates the flow of a story. In this episodic, and totally unplanned, story I suspect it is not always credible or easily followed. In this episode, mention is made that “Carrie's muscles, wasted by weeks in bed........”.  This time span makes sense for this episode, but what about others? How have they been affected by this time span, or have they? My cursory research has found little direction for this writing issue, so I've relied on my own experience as a reader. When a time line does jog, has there been a question set up and answered later in the story? Was there a set up in previous parts of the story, in this case, episodes? Presently I don't have a clear answer for this question, so that means getting out the text books - and I have a lot of them.

Piece Work

What is your story, Carrie Tyler? Randall Matthews, B.S.W., gowned, masked and gloved stood outside the private room on the sixth floor. He understood the need for all the protective dress, but really didn’t like it. The R.N., Miss Green, also protectively attired, was assisting Mrs. Tyler as she got up into a wheelchair. Carrie's muscles, wasted by weeks in bed and the suspected effects of her illness, did not hold her up solidly. She would need at least as many weeks, if not more, of rehabilitation to get her strength and balance back. 

~~~~~

Miss Green, pushing a soiled linen cart, came from Mrs. Tyler’s room. “Mrs. Tyler’s ready to see you, Randall.” She was about to continue with her cargo, when she stopped. “She’s really quite frightened - afraid of where she may end up. She still hasn’t told me, or any of the other nurses anything, so I do hope you can help her out.” 

Randall opened the door to Mrs. Tyler’s room. “Mrs. Tyler? May I come in? It’s Randall, the Social Worker.”  Her voice stronger than it had been, Carrie replied “Please come in. Miss Green told me you were waiting to see me.” Randall pulled up the spare chair reserved for such visits. “How are you feeling? I have quite a few questions and some information for you, so if you tire, please tell me.”  Carrie was quiet for a long moment. She reached for a tissue to dab at her eyes. Her hair, long and straight, had been washed and tied back from her face. Her skin had the look of fine porcelain, her bone structure sharp and delicate. Mrs. Tyler was much younger looking than Randall had heard from other staff. “Randall - may I call you Randall? - I’m afraid. I know people have said I’m homeless and have been living on the street. That’s only partially true, but it is why I’m afraid. Afraid that I will have to return there…..” A sob escaped from deep inside. Carrie gripped the arms of the wheelchair, took a deep breath and looked up at Randall. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to do that.” She smiled. “Seems this disease has wasted more than my leg muscles. Why don’t you ask your questions and give me any information you have. I’ll let you know when I tire. My concentration gets difficult then.” 

~~~~~

For the next thirty minutes, Randall slowly started to piece together Carrie Tyler’s life. It started with the photograph. Carrie took it from her housecoat pocket and handed it to Randall. The once glossy surface was cracked and photo’s edges bent. A smiling and pretty young girl leaned up against a red convertible parked in front of what looked like a family home. Randall turned the picture over - Emelina Eliot - was printed in faded ink on the back. “I’m not from Hartley. I have been looking for my mother and have information that this girl is my mother.” Once in a while, their conversation would lag when Carrie seemed about to drift off. She insisted they keep on until Randal finally called a halt to it. “Can I take this picture with me? I’ll make my own copy and get this back to you.” Carrie nodded. He slipped it into a plastic bag. Carrie whispered “If you think it will help my case.” She tried to get up, but had to lean back into the chair. Randall used the patient call button “I’ll get Miss Green to help you back to bed. I’ll come by again tomorrow. Today may have been the hardest, Carrie. We’ll get you in a safe place.” Randall hoped he wasn’t dreaming. This woman had been on quite a journey and it wasn’t done yet.

“In the middle of the journey of life I found myself astray 

in a dark wood where the straight road had been lost sight of.”

~ Dante Alighieri

Chapter One, Episode 156 - A Rough Start - Standing Still Slowly Blog Post

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

'Write what you know' - a maxim that many, many authors and writing educators share. I know about various staff rooms and their condition from my previous nursing career - 'nuff said. Another area that many, in any workforce experience, are phones ringing....and ringing. I've learned over time that we are each surrounded by these sort of seemingly mundane, and definitely annoying, details. They become expressive when put in the context of the storied lives that we lead. There were few corrections that were needed....some of the mundane details of writing: a missing quotation mark, a missing period, duplicate words. They allow our storied ordinary details flow gently as we read.

A Rough Start

His keycard had not even touched the reader for his office door. Inside, the phone started ringing. He muttered quietly to himself “It’s started already and I’m not even in the door yet. I’m just going to let it ring.” Randall Matthews, Social Worker at Hartley General opened his office door. He stood still for a few minutes, breathing in the empty space of the office - except for the damn phone. When he passed his desk, he had glanced at it. The display panel showed that seven new phone messages had come in overnight. His bicycle cleats clicking on the floor he went to the tiny staff room at the back. He couldn’t help but notice the disarray. A tiny fridge that needed cleaning, dirty coffee cups in the sink and coats abandoned on hooks. He looked for coffee and the coffee maker. No coffee grounds, no filters……. “I’ll take care of that later.” Still talking to himself, a bit louder now to drown out the incessant ringing…..as soon as one person gave up, another person took over the phone line…… he said “I have to get organized first.” He hung up his jacket and bike helmet and changed his shoes. Hearing the office door open, Randall called out “Just a minute.” He checked himself in the mirror above the eyewash station. Smiled at himself just to practice and as he walked out, he smoothed his maroon and gold plaid shirt and bent to brush road dust from his denim jeans. While he was still head down, he felt a presence. Standing up slowly, he saw a man sitting on one corner of his desk. By his white coat and stethoscope, he assumed he was looking at one of the doctors. With a pleasant smile, the doctor spoke “Are you one of the social workers?” Randall replied “This morning I am the social worker. Who are you and how can I help you?”

Jeremy jumped off the corner of the desk and stuck out an elbow in greeting. He missed being able to shake hands, but this virus had changed many, many things. The elbow bump was born. Through his face mask, Jeremy introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Jeremy Crawford and I left you a phone message last night.” Randall had situated himself in his desk chair, began cleaning his desk and replied “Yes, I did get that message at the end of my shift and it’s on the top of my to-do list for this morning, but here you are.” From his bottom desk drawer, Randall had retrieved a container of Sani-wipes. While pleasantries were exchanged, he wiped his keyboard, screen, top of the desk with special attention to the corner of the desk the doctor had just vacated. Tossing the used wipe in the garbage, he then reached to another drawer, pulled out a fresh box of non-surgical face masks and put one on. He gathered up clipboard and pens, checked the paperwork he had left ready from the night before and stood to get on with his day. Hoping this Dr. Crawford would get the hint, he started towards the door. He didn’t move. So Randall stopped and said “I don’t have that much information for you, Dr. and as you see, I am only starting my day.”

Jeremy smiled at this man who, obviously, had not had a great start to his morning, but he did want to relay Emmie’s message to him and get a sense of what he had planned. Jeremy had already been on shift for an hour, but was taking some time - along with his pager - to see if he could talk with whomever the social worker was. “Would a cup of cafeteria coffee help? Then I can get out of your hair and both of us can get back to work. I’ll be in the hospital on my own shift til late tonight, but right now I’ve got some time and you look like you need to take a break already!”

~~~~~

Something about this man was very disarming. Randall felt himself relax and decided that he would be doing a disservice to patients, families, and other staff if he didn’t get his insides as organized as his outsides. “Dr. Crawford, that sounds like a great idea - even the cafeteria coffee. When I was back in our untidy little staff room, I discovered that there was not even crumb of coffee. So the cafeteria it is.”

The two men had managed a hurdle that had threatened to devolve into nothingness. Walking down the hall, their conversation was not about health care, but about cars vs bikes. “You just don’t have the same feeling of freedom in a car. Sure they’re pretty and powerful. I like driving, but on a bike ride home after one of these days, all the tension goes flying out behind me.”

“But a car. You don’t get wet - unless you have the top down when it rains. When you’re the only one on the road and you put your foot down, it’s a feeling like no other. Two coffee please, make them large. Here Randall, I don’t know what you take in your coffee so I’ll let you deal with that. Shall we take that corner table? A little more private.”

They both sat down. The big bright cafeteria with lots of windows was not yet filled up the noise and chatter of others. “Let me tell you my story first. I came on duty just after Mrs. Tyler was admitted, so some of my information is second hand. But I did see the photo that seems to have caused all the trouble. The name on the back is the same as the name of a dear friend of mine. Her first name and her maiden name. The picture was of a girl, that looked very familiar to me.”

Randall set his coffee down. “So is that who you called that night? The friend of yours?”

Dr. Crawford frowned and looked away. “Yes that was my mistake. I broke the confidentiality of the patient by doing that. All of us on duty didn’t think Mrs. Tyler would make it through the night, and I had been told that she said she didn’t have anyone. It’s the first time she’s ever been in this hospital so no one knows anything about her.”

For the next hour, their voices low, the two men discussed Emmie’s concerns about where Mrs. Tyler would go when she was discharged and what her life story really was. Another staff passing the table caught the words ‘Beaufort Estate’ but it didn’t mean anything to her. Someone else heard ‘writing letters’ not knowing that a penpal relationship had been established between Emmie Beaufort and Carrie Tyler.

~~~~~

Both pagers went off at the same time. “Well, I guess our time is up! Thanks Jeremy, you’ve given me more background. I’ll find out about those issues you brought up and get back to you. Maybe later today if I’m lucky. And get yourself a bike!”

“I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations 

and you’re not in this world to live up to mine.”

~ Bruce Lee