The massage therapist told me not to fall off the table 

As she stepped away 

I clung like a staple

My muscles splayed 

The thought took me back 

To when I was 20 or 21 and working as a nurse’s aide at an old folks’ home 

I remember all the poop and dementia and the patient groans

One fateful day as I turned a potato-like patient over in bed

She kept rolling 

And went off the ledge 

There was human excrement on her, the sheets, and me 

I felt like a complete failure when I called for the cavalry 

The poor patient, on the floor, looked no different than she had before 

An elderly Asian lady, pudgy from all the tube feeds (that stuff looked the same going in as it did out)

Stripped of her institutionalized light green cloth gown and white diaper underneath

Her dark hair was short, her skin oddly smooth 

A massive stroke had left her for years unable to move 

Her days were lying in that nursing home bed 

I always thought that I would rather be dead

Her family looked on as me and four others used a Hoyer lift to get her up 

I felt as mortified as one could 

I locked eyes with that poor woman 

I thought of how I’d believed the nursing profession was a way to do good

Much to my surprise, I wasn’t fired 

Nah, turns out that nursing home needed any and all the staff they could hire

We were fined in the aftermath for unsafe practices 

Disabled people were a paycheck but also cactuses 

That poor lady wasn’t the first to fall 

And that situation wasn’t the last time I’d be appalled 

I climbed the nursing ladder from the floor

My goal was to try and stop strokes and disability from happening anymore

Turns out that’s hard 

Prevention in some people’s minds is like detention

Inserting brain coils and feeding tubes pays better 

Than lobbying for access to preventive drugs or primary care 

Turns out those behind-the-scenes are thugs 

No one wants to go there 

What makes the most 

How much money will satisfy 

Working in that nursing home made me ponder: to die or survive?

People were made to flourish

Like flowers out of the soil

17 years later I’m trying to push up off the floor

And avoid the coil – off the table 

The caretaker and the needy patient are inseparable 

To say otherwise is a fable 

Someone else’s poop will find its way to you 

Those nursing home groans are never from one alone 

Don’t fall from your table – or your bed 

Watch the thoughts in your head 

Those of the cavalry are still in the weeds 

But my own actions over the years don’t supercede 

Look for the door 

Don’t let your fascia stick

Get off the floor 

Go on, kick!