18th Floor Balcony (Frerard)

Chapter One: The Past Isn't Through With You

"Yeah, I know, grandma," Frank nodded in agreement, knowing that he can at least be happy that his dad is no longer hurting from the cancer and soggy from the chemo.

"And he would also be so proud of you, now that you're a CNA, just like how I used to be back in the day!" Rosalie smiled, looking back at the fond memories of her days as a caregiver in a hospital for war veterans, then eventually, a full-fledged registered nurse. "So, Frankie...why don't you tell me about your first placement? Who's that first lucky patient that's gonna be in the care of my grandson?"

"I honestly don't know much about him yet," Frank shrugged. "I do know he does have ALS, and I'll be taking care of him,"

"Oh, you mean Lou Gehrig's disease? How terrible for him!"

"Yeah, and I know that he's not much older than me. I believe he's in his early to mid twenties,"

"Oh, poor thing...," Rosalie frowned remorsefully.

"It's alright. Maybe it will be easier because we are closer in age. We will have more in common, plus I've had my experience working with quadriplegics back at Alpine Terrace. We'll have more in common. I'm thinking that is why they chose me,"

"Is it live-in?"

"I was told that it could develop into that, but right now, I work five days a week and three nights. There's another CNA that is caring for him, but I get the feeling that either the agency or the patient is not happy with him. That is why they said the workload could increase,"

"Will they give you a warning if that should happen, Frankie?"

"Yeah, they said they will," he replied, hoping that it doesn't get to that, but then again, he knew he needed the money. Desperate times do call for desperate measures, after all.

"Well, I wish you lots of luck on your first day," Rosalie smiled.

"Thanks, grandma," Frank said, giving Rosalie a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out the door to ride his Harley motorcycle to his homecare agency.

_ _ _

"So I have not received a file on my patient yet and I was only given a little bit of information on him so far," Frank said, walking with the head of his department of the Angels of Comfort homecare agency. He pretty much thought of the woman, named Nancy, as his boss since she had been working with him since he got hired. She was a stately woman with a steel gray bun in her hair, but kind eyes. He still had a feeling that she was not one to fuck with, though. "Nancy, can you tell me a little more about him?"

"Absolutely, Frank. Here, have a seat," the woman said, welcoming Frank to sit down at the chair in front of her desk. She sat down across from Frank and opened up the patient's file, his care plan and all his other vital information in one big manila folder. Her green eyes scanned over it as she deciphered what to say to the curious caregiver. "Well, as you so know...this twenty-three year old man has been a sufferer of ALS for three years. You'll be responsible for preparing meals and feeding him, changing him after meals, transferring him in and out of bed, dressing him, emptying his catheter periodically, providing transportation to doctor's appointments, and so on. He is also to be bathed every other day, so today he'll need a bed bath since he had one Saturday night. He tries to help out as much as he can, but knowing his condition...he's been going downhill rather quickly, unfortunately,"

"Can I see the folder?" Frank asked, wanting to know every bit of crucial information about this man before he must head out to take care of this potentially difficult and dependent patient with ALS.

"Sure," Nancy said, handing the folder right to Frank for him to look at. He opened up the folder and skimmed the papers for the patient's name. It was when he saw the name that he felt his heart stop. He's seen this name before.