Tonight I plucked a little more away at the invite I'm making for the "Come Unto Christ" event until Tyler got home. Boy did he have a tale to tell. He had only worked a four-hour shift, but it had certainly been eventful. The shipment of supplies comes on Tuesdays at his work, so since it was Monday night, everything was running low. Gloves, wipes, and briefs (adult diapers) in the correct sizes for his residents. They also got a new resident who speaks very little English, only Farsi, a type of Persian, and insists on standing up in spite of her broken hip. In the limited time he was there, running from room to room trying to find some gloves to wear, she tried to stand and (of course) fell, meaning he had to get a set of vitals at fifteen- and thirty-minute intervals. She went to bed, and every time she told him she just wanted to sleep, so every time he had to convince her anew. Once he finally coaxed the blood pressure cuff onto her arm only to see he had forgotten any paper, so he just scrawled her vitals on his wrist for the time being. After an exhausting short shift he came home and I asked him what the symbols on his wrist were, and got more of a story than I thought I would.

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