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’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)
National Nurses Week
May 6-12, 2012
Monica Sharman says
Ah, I didn’t know about National Nurses Week!
You know, that wink and smile would’ve taken me a long way. Thanking God for you, Sandy.
Carol J. Garvin says
She could tell you were a praying person. 🙂 Your kind of compassion is what I wish I’d encountered in my earliest hospital experiences. It would probably have made a big difference in how I coped later on.
I didn’t realize this was National Nurses Week… maybe it’s only in the USA and not here in Canada. There are two nurses in our family — one of my daughters and my daughter-in-law, and they’re both well suited to the work.
This is nursing at its absolute best Sandy. This one made me cry.
S. Etole says
This is all gift … and for that I thank you for being there for her and others.
These posts this week have been good – a perspective from the heart of those on the other side of the bed. The hours of training, the schedule of hard work. During our recent hospital stay with our son we were very impressed with the nurses. All of them, every one, through all the shift changes, were genuine, concerned, caring, and gentle with him and with us. I was very grateful. It is difficult work. I can’t imagine some of what you must have seen. The Lord bless you! And thank you.
Jessica Zirbes says
Beautiful! My mom has been a nurse for 20+ years. I love and respect her so much!!
Precious memories aren’t they? I have my own tucked within my heart.
kd sullivan says
Oh my goodness Sandy…I’m so thankful for nurses…they bring healing to the whole person…this was beautiful!