All in a Nurse's Day

This was written in 2003, before the passing of both my mother-in-law and father-in-law. I am working on a piece for tomorrow (Humor Monday) and it reminded me of having written this. It's a fitting precursor to my piece for tomorrow. I hope you enjoy it!

What is it about hospitals that turn perfectly normal, socially acceptable adults into beings unrecognizable even to their own families? I don't mean physically, although by day three in a hospital one's hair tends to resemble that of wrestling promoter Don King. I refer instead to the dramatic change in an otherwise sane personality.

My mother-in-law has been hospitalized for several days now. Normally a sweet lady (she doesn't fit the mode of one of those mothers-in-law at all!), and the first to display gratitude in a wash of please's and thank-you's, Ma-in-law's mild demeanor has been replaced with that of an irate grizzly. She's not in any physical pain. Her meds don't affect her personality. So what on earth is wrong with her?

This morning she refused to take her pills.

"They aren't my pills."

"No, they're not your pills from the bottles at home, but the nurses have dispensed the very same kind," I tried explaining.

"I won't take them. I'll only take mine from home."

Okay. So home's not that far away. It seems that rather than upset her, I could just as easily run to her house and get the darn pills.

When I returned with the pills she was adamantly arguing with two nurses about not wanting to move from the bed to the chair.

"I think you'll be very comfortable sitting up," the kind and very patient nurse explained.

"Then why don't you sit there?"

"Because I'm not the one who is sick," the nurse said.

Both nurses then scooped Ma-in-law off her bed and gently plopped her onto the reclining chair. Oh-oh. Score one for the nurses. Still I knew they'd get their due.

"Now you wait a %$#@...minute!" she screamed.

Oh, my! She was loud-very loud. Not only was she loud, but she took the Lord's name in vain, with the chapel right next door.

Those valiant nurses took it all in stride. They smiled sweetly and continued to cover my mother-in-law with the warm blanket she had demanded. Then they brought new orange juice because the orange juice she had was "too old".

Refusing to eat the dinner they brought, she reported that it had been "a pile of mess". However she also claimed to have no appetite.

I checked with the head nurse on any dietary restrictions the doctor might have imposed. There were none. An hour later the same lady lacking the appetite for her pile of mess had no problem devouring a McDonald's hamburger, an apple pie, and a cup of coffee.

The very next morning I visited shortly after breakfast.

"Did you take your pills this morning?" I asked.

"What pills?" came the reply.

"Did you eat your breakfast?"

"What breakfast?"

Okay. So Ma-in-law was going to be a stubborn old goat. I knew the hospital had her pills. I knew they had at least offered her some breakfast-and most likely put it on a tray in front of her!

How do these saintly nurses keep their poise, their smile, and their senses of humor perfectly intact when dealing with patients day in and day out? They are unsung heroes, certainly deserving of our love and our respect.

There's Gail. There's Kathy and there's Brian. These men and women tolerate far more than the doctors do, and they deal with happiness and sorrow in so many realms, it's a wonder they stay sane.

I am saddened to learn that in our part of the country (Northeast) there is currently a shortage of nurses. The reason, I'm told, is that many hospitals have resorted to providing only part-time contracts to save from paying benefits. After enduring schooling costs and testing costs, what nurse would want to take a job that wouldn't provide their medical benefits?

As I drive to a nursing home this afternoon to visit my father-in-law, I will stop at the nurse's desk as I always do, and talk with the head nurse named Tracy. I'll ask about his health, his eating habits, and his behavior. Tracy will smile. She'll sigh and then she'll describe his vile habit of spitting and swearing. Then she'll walk along with me to his room, and upon entering she'll smile again-this time at my father-in-law.

"Hi, sweetheart," she'll say. And he'll smile, too.

God graced these caregivers with their loving hands and their infinite patience. But far above that, He graced them with their amazingly enormous hearts.