My shoe covers rustle along the linoleum floor until I come to the holding area.
I find her, eyes closed on the gurney, brown wisps around green paper cap.
A tiny lady almost swallowed by crisp white and warm woven.
I pick up the chart at the foot of the bed and page through it.
I check for signed permit and review lab work.
I touch her hand.
She opens her eyes and blinks at bright.
I smile.
“I’m Sandy. I’ll be your nurse this morning. We’re ready to take you back.”
She nods, and her chin quivers a little.
I ask her name and check what she says against her armband.
I ask who her doctor is and what we are doing today.
She tells me, and I confirm that with what’s written.
I note the steady drip, drip from bag through tube into arm.
I ask if she has any questions, and she shakes her head no.
So I unlock wheels, and maneuver through the door and down to OR-1.
The rooms a’flurry with activity.
Instruments clatter and clank as the scrub nurse lines them neat on rolled towels.
We stop in the hall for a moment, and she looks up.
Would you pray for me?
Her voice quavers.
She has a broken heart, after all.
And today we will hold it in our hands.
Stop, slice, sew, restart.
I come around to her side and bow my head.
I pray for a sense of His presence and for her peace.
I pray for the surgeon’s skill and for a flawless procedure.
I pray for an uneventful recovery.
Before I can say “amen,” the surgeon barges into the hall and shouts at us to hurry up.
We both jump.
He’s on a schedule, after all.
And he’s not a patient man.
He’s a wonderful surgeon, and he can fix this heart.
But I’ve seen him fling a bent forceps across the room in frustration.
I whisper “amen” and glance down at her.
Her eyes are wide.
I wink and smile.
“It’ll be okay,” I promise. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”
And then I wheel her into the room and next to the table.
She slides over, and I strap her down and hook her up.
Then I hold her hand and gently cup her cheek as she gives up control to the One who heals broken hearts and wounded souls.
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. ~Psalm 147:3 (NIV)
This … is … divine.
I want you to be my nurse. Whenever I might need a nurse, I want it to be you.
And thank you, thank you for taking the time to pray. I am convinced it was the most important duty performed that day.
This happened so long ago but seems like yesterday. I felt way out of my comfort zone in that place and at that time, and that small moment has lodged itself in my head and remained all these years.
{{{sigh}}} Another precious moment with the precious moment maker. So touching, sweetie! So touching!
Love you, Lynn.
Speechless and stealing Jennifer’s words: “This … is … divine.” You are a treasure, Sandy, a priceless and exquisite gift.
Thank you, Cindee. Your words, always, they bless me.
What a gift this is … what a blessing it would be to have a nurse like you!
Thanks, Susan. I do miss it sometimes. The touching. And there was something so special about handwritten notes in the charts. Computers aren’t all just all that. 🙂
Okay, you got me with ‘cupping her cheek.’ I’m a goner. Thank you, Sandy for following Jesus right into that holy space where he waits, amid the gleaming surgical equipment. You were his hands and eyes and heart today. Thank you.
Thank you, my friend. I was so new at that following thing then.
Oh, this is why I’m doing this. All this studying.
This is absolutely gorgeous.
Sharing this on my site.
I wish I was where you are in my spiritual walk when I first entered school. What a difference it would have made from the start. You are going to touch so many in so many ways.
And thanks so much for the share. 🙂
Your compassion is what makes the difference. I know medical economics really wants to remove the ‘care’ from health, but creative people like you find a way to still inject a little tenderness into eveyr situatio
Given my high anxiety in any medical situation, I could relate. What a blessing you were to her in those brief pre-op moments. Sure wish you had been around during mine. 😉
A holy, sacred moment in the middle of a calling, Sandra. Thank you. “surely the presence of the Lord (was) in (that) place. You remind me why I went into nursing those many years ago. (and it wasn’t those nasty tempered surgeons) =)
I didn’t know you were a nurse! I remember being so thankful for compassionate caregivers during the final months of my father’s life. When some allowed the curtain to be peeled back, revealing that they too were family and joining us in prayer, I felt held by the arms of my heavenly Father. So glad you wrote about this, Sandra.
Wow, there really are nurses like you? Maybe I’d consent to medical care if I knew that.
God’s people scattered and sprinkled everywhere, in every crevice, conduits of grace. You’ve captured and held still for a glimpse a moment in the midst of urgency and hurry. Beautiful!
Sweet words filled with love and your gentle touch. The scene is painted carefully and with just the right words. Yes, “Divine.”
Janis
Sandra – This is so beautiful. Patients love nurses like you, loyal, faithful, spiritual. What courage you gave this women as she submitted herself so vulnerably.
I will never forget the nurse, so many years ago, who was willing to hold my hand. Such a simple thing really… but it meant everything. You are a blessing. I love how some memories stay with us and steep until they are ready to pour out of us in his timing. Beautiful… just like you.
Beautiful image of the reflection of God’s glory in you! Thank you for sharing.
Beautiful! I love the colliding of holy and earthly, the trust and need. How beautiful that you could minister to her body and her soul. I’m visiting from The High Calling, and glad I did.
This is beautiful Sandra.
Wow! What an encouragement and holy moment. I was blessed to have a nurse join our family in prayer eight years ago before surgery. That blessed my heart, too, and brought comfort.
Sandra,
Thank you for sharing part of your journey. I passed it along to a nurse friend of mine. Blessings
I have just now managed to find time to read some of the blogs featured on High Calling and read yours. Such a lovely post, it touched my heart because my daughter is a nurse and I could picture her doing exactly as you. I’m forwarding your post to her to read. I know she will love it as much as I did.