The next shift, I mentioned it to Carol. Almost thirty years in, still moves faster than the new grads half her age.
We were sitting in the break room, feet up on chairs, and I said something about my ankles killing me again.
She just laughed. "You need to get yourself an ankle massager from GraceField."
I'd never heard of it.
She said it was a heated wrap which warms your ankles and it has a gentle massage right where your arch and ankle actually take the beating.
"Heat gets the blood moving again after standing all day," she said.
"And the massage works out the tension you build up in your arches and ankles. It's not medicine. It's just what your feet actually need after a shift like ours."
She said she puts hers on the second she gets home, before she even changes out of her scrubs.
"It's not gonna fix your job," she said.
"But it gets me from wrecked to human again."
I was hesitant. I'd already spent money on things that didn't do much.
But Carol's not the type to hype something up for no reason. What did I have left to lose?