But triple pay would be nice. Callie’s private high school was draining my meager savings. Between that and her competitive cheer, one emergency, and I’d be back to living paycheck to paycheck. I’d feel a lot better if I was able to rebuild my safety net. All financial responsibility fell on me. My mother watched Callie when I was at work, so I supported her and Callie.
“When does it start?” I asked.
“Today.”
“Today?” I had to take Callie to a dentist appointment in an hour; that’s why she’d stayed home from school.
“Yes, and this situation is unique.”
“Okay.”
“The patient was just released from prison.”
“Prison?”
“She was medically paroled on compassionate leave. She is in the final stages of congestive heart failure.”
“What was she in for?”
Sonja was silent for a moment. “Murder.”
I was silent, trying to process how or if I felt anything about that. I never judged my patients. Everyone’s life was their own journey.
“It was a long time ago. Over forty years.”
Although that was definitely unique. It wasn’t a deal-breaker. I doubted I’d be in any danger. Chances are she would be in a pretty bad way if she’d been medically paroled. She’d be on oxygen and pain medication.
“There’s one more thing…” Sonja’s voice trailed off, and I knew that I wasn’t going to like whatever was about to come out of her mouth next. “It’s nights.”
Nights. That was the single non-negotiable that I had. One of the reasons I’d chosen hospice care was because it was an eight-to-five job, which was difficult to find in nursing. I had twelve to fourteen clients at any given time and visited them at home. Two times a month, I was on call overnight for emergencies.
Continuous care was a different ballgame. It was for patients who needed round the clock care. Medicaid only approved it if medication had to be dispensed every hour and/or the patient couldn’t be left alone for their own safety. In those cases, the days were twelve hours, and the shifts were split by three or four caregivers.
The few times I’d been on a continuous care assignment, I’d had no problem working an early or swing shift, but being gone all night was where I drew the line. It wasn’t about my sleep, or lack thereof.
When my mom moved in with me to “help out” right after I graduated with a nursing degree, I’d thought that I’d be able to take any shift. Unfortunately, that hadn’t been the case. At forty-six, my mother still acted more like a teenager than my actual teen did.
I needed her there for Callie’s safety, but I didn’t need her having “friends” over when my teenage daughter was in the next room. Remember, thin walls. I’d grown up having to audibly witness my mother’s enthusiastic sleepovers and did not want the same fate for my daughter. But, as the sole support of both my mother and daughter, I could really use the money.
“Gary and Tina are taking days. I have Hector covering three nights a week, Friday through Sunday. I was hoping you could cover Monday through Thursday. And there are perks.”
“Perks?” Perks were not normally associated with hospice care.
“There’s a car service. It will pick you up and drop you off.”
That would save me even more money on gas.
“What are the hours?”
“Twelves. Eight to eight.”
I sighed. Eight to eight would mean I could make and have dinner with Callie every night, and I could sleep while she was at school and be up by the time she got home in the afternoon. But it also left a lot of time for my mom to invite friends over.
“I need an answer ASAP. I just got off the phone with his assistant, and she’s waiting to hear back. So if you’re not interested, I can give it to—”
“I’ll take it.”
“Great! I’ll send you the details.”
