There was something about that word: “proper”. His wife wanted a “proper” nurse. She helped him to the toilet from his bed, taking their time, encouraging him to put one foot in front of the other holding his shaking hands, meeting his eyes, and smiling. After the toilet, she cleaned him, helped him to shower, dried him, shaved his chin stubble and laid out a clean set of clothes, helping him only when he asked. Combing his hair, they chatted cheerfully despite his aphasia language.
Afterwards, the proper nurse popped the medication in his mouth and left without a word.
Afterwards, the proper nurse popped the medication in his mouth and left without a word.
