My heart pounded so hard that I’m pretty sure everyone in the foyer heard it. When I found out that Regina was the one who had taken a tumble, I was on the move before they could finish reporting the incident.
As I slid to a stop next to her, she gave me a half smile.
“I didn’t think I had it in me to make the boys still come running,” she teased me, but the look on her face told me everything I needed to know.
“Where does it hurt?” I questioned, swallowing hard and praying that it is not broken as she could be in a hospital close to Thanksgiving. That seems wrong on so many levels, and while I realized it is a reality with aging populations, I didn’t want that on my watch.
“My hands and my ankle,” she said as she sat up, and watching her face, she wasn’t in a lot of pain with twisting, which was a good sign.
“Okay, let me do a quick exam before we get you over to my office,” I told her, running my hands over her foot.
She winced, but in true Regina fashion, is not going to allow anyone to see it. I could only tell from the slight whitening around her mouth.
“I don’t think it is broken,” I told her, “but you are going to have to be off it for the holidays.”
“No,” she barked out, shocking me a bit with the tenacity of the words. “I have to be able to do Thanksgiving. My daughter, Abigail, and her partner are coming with my amazing grandbaby. They are moving here,” she sighed with tears rolling down her cheeks. “I have to make this first Thanksgiving back perfect. I have friends invited, and it will be perfect,” she told me as her lip quivered.
“Well, I know you hate accepting help, but maybe you are going to have to do that for this one instance,” he told her. “I know that you have a lot of friends.”
“None of them can make the stuffing the way I want from scratch. They all told me not to bother and make it out of a box,” she declares, putting a hand over her chest. “That is sacrilegious.”
“I agree. The good ole fashion kind that bakes in the bird is the best,” he teased.
“Are you cooking for your family?”
A little downturn to his shoulders must have given away his stance on the holiday. The truth was a couple of friends had made the invite to him, but he always hated to intrude.
“Probably not, as I’m not sure it will be more than me this year,” I told her simply. “Are you ready to get up in the chair,” he indicated the wheelchair that another staff had just pulled up behind them.”
“You could come to help with the stuffing and attend my Thanksgiving,” she announced.
“Oh, I couldn’t impose,” he said, hoping that she would let it go as they have quite a crowd gathering now, and he is hoping to treat her soon.
“Please. I promise you will have the best time with us old fogies and my daughter’s friends, partner, and baby. When was the last really big celebration you attended on Thanksgiving?”
She had me there. I didn’t normally take anyone up on Thanksgiving, as it had been a favorite of my mom’s. I can remember all the laughter in the hours, the smells of her home cooking, and the nostalgia of those memories that are all that I have left of her now.
“Not since before I lost my parents,” I told as something shifted inside me as I looked into her eager, waiting eyes. “I would be honored to help you cook this year if you are sure I wouldn’t just be a bigger burden.”
“Nope,” she smiled at me with this huge grin that made me wonder if I should not have given in, but I figured it was only one day. “I’m ready,” she held her arms up so two of the staff could get her in the chair. “This is going to be the best Thanksgiving,” he happily clapped, not appearing to be put out by her injuries.
I followed, shaking my head and praying I hadn’t just made a big mistake that somehow impacted my job here. There is no rule about having dinner with the residents, but these aging folks sure can gossip, so I never knew what I might be in for. I guess, at the very least, it should make for one funny story later.