Turning Points

The smile must have been the turning point, but still, I didn't trust her.  Something was up, and I wasn't sure what it was.  But suddenly, Ava was confiding in me.  Gossiping TO me.  It was more observation, actually.  Ava had been a psych nurse for years before she came to DOC.  But her observations were about other staff members.

Maybe that was it.  She and I both liked to observe people.  We both like working in corrections because it fills the need for puzzling over certain behaviors, unusual behaviors.  Or perhaps she finally decided she had read me wrong, and I was not a spy sent to infiltrate the nursing department by my cousin, the superintendent.  I had proved my loyalties to my department, and suddenly, slowly, Ava and I were becoming not only supervisor and employee, but friends.

I have a great deal of respect for her, now.  Over this past year, we have opened up to each other, shared our observations, and she has become something of a mentor for me.

She doesn't put up with bull.  Period.  She'll stand up for her employees in the face of Every Power That Is, if she knows beyond doubt that they're innocent of whatever they've been accused of.  She has a sense of humor that is bawdy and graceless, and I love it.

During one meeting, she announced that although she is female, she has balls.  That was an unnecessary revelation.  She has shown that in every aspect of her being.  For example, we had an inmate who had been taken off of his psych meds, and was rapidly decompensating.  He had been given a rock to rub when he felt anxiety creeping up, and the poor man had rubbed the stone smooth.  She notified mental health - the psychiatrist wouldn't be back for a month, and he wouldn't do a telephone order for the meds, even though the man was bordering suicidal.  Ava hopped on the computer, zipped off an email to Somebody in Charge, in which she stated:

All I can say is, I certainly hope mental health has a large supply of rocks, because the one the patient was given has been rubbed to death.

How can you not respect a woman so defiant?  The next day, she brought in a bag of river rocks and presented them to the mental health director.

This week, one of our staff members, Lorraine,  had an unthinkable tragedy.  Her 19 year old daughter was gravely injured in a car wreck.

When Ava found out that Lorraine was alone at the hospital, she jumped in her car and headed to the hospital, 45 miles away.  She had just left when we got the call that Lorraine's daughter didn't make it.  And when Ava got back to the unit that afternoon, she spearheaded a drive to collect funds for funeral expenses because Lorraine, a single parent, didn't have the money to bury her child.

Ava walked into my office with tears in her eyes.  This is the saddest thing I've ever seen, she said, and she turned her head upward as if to keep the tears from falling down her face.

I wanted to comfort her, but still am not quite sure how to deal with Ava.  I rubbed her shoulder with a short, circular motion, a reaching out.  And suddenly, Ava's arm went around my shoulder and we hugged.

I believe the distance has evaporated.

*note:  tonight, the nursing department will attend the wake for Lorraine's daughter, and we will be led by Ava.  Her drive for funds between the two prison facilities as of yesterday has raised well over $600.  That says a lot about Ava, the staff, and how well thought of Lorraine is.