Face Mask

A few weeks back, one of the caregivers slept on our extra bed instead of going home after her shift. She didn’t ask first, and she seemed to be avoiding me.

I left before she got up the next morning, and the next evening the same thing happened. When I asked the others if everything was OK, they smirked a little, and muttered that she had a headache. No further details.

So I hadn’t seen her face for nearly two days when we finally crossed paths in the kitchen on the second morning. Initially she wouldn’t meet my gaze. When she finally looked up, I saw why. Two of the biggest, darkest black eyes I’d ever seen. Oh, my, I thought. Domestic abuse. She’s afraid to go home. This is going to be tricky.

My first thought was to wonder how this episode was affecting Jip. Surely the caregiver had lots more on her mind than caregiving. But she didn’t seem upset or agitated, and Jip hadn’t said anything about feeling neglected.

I asked how she was doing. She said, “it’s healing fine.” I’m sure it is, I said, but how are things at home? Then it was her turn to be confused. Home? What does home have to do with getting cosmetic surgery done on my nose?

The dark bruises are now completely gone. To be honest I don’t see much difference in her appearance. But she’s very happy with the results, and I’m sure would be glad to pass along the name of her doctor in case you’re interested.