Knocking on the door as a quick courtesy, she entered the room.

“Fuck!”

The word corresponded with the sudden cleft between her eyebrows and the tightening of her jaw. The drug round was already behind time and now this.
He was on his knees, on the floor. The bed had obviously caught his fall and now he was unable to get up.

“Are you alright?”

She spoke loudly as the man had not responded to her entry to the room. She touched his shoulder and he looked up at her, startled.

“Have you hurt yourself?”

She gave him the once over with her eyes as she took hold of his arm to lever him into bed.

“Can you get up? Did you hit your head? Are you sore anywhere?”

The man looked bemused as she checked his pupils.

“I think you’ll be ok. Did you feel dizzy or did you just trip?”

The raised volume of her voice did not seem to penetrate into his comprehension. A final check before she felt able to leave told her that he had not broken a hip or worse.

“Silly old chook,” she thought as the Drug Round continued.

Back in the nurses’ station she felt quite pleased that this incident had not delayed her Drug Round by long. She filled in the incident report describing how she had found him, laughing as she said to the nurse next to her,
“You know, it was almost as if he were ready to say his night time prayers, perfect position for it!”


Another nurse had just entered the office, “Who are you talking about?”

“You know the old guy in room 127.”

“Father McDougal are you talking about? He often says his prayers at night. Don’t know how he gets down on his knees the way he does.”

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