Emerging Courageous Online Magazine - Stories
Looks Can Be Deceiving by Kathy Whirity
I woke up at 7a.m, the 9th day of my hospital stay to see the night nurse
writing the day's shift information on the chalk board across from my bed.
Tracy would be the nurses' assistant for the day. I looked to see who
would be my nurse and saw the name, Lady Di. "Great, just what I need,
" I thought, "Some Queen Latifah wanna be with probably
more ego than actual nursing experience."
I was definitely not in a good mood. Recovery from emergency abdominal
surgery had been a nightmare in itself. The daily injections to keep my
blood from clotting and the twice daily finger pricks to keep a check on what
looked suspiciously like an acute diabetic condition had me at the very end of
my rope.
I had not eaten since days before the surgery--nothing -- not even so much as
a sip of water. With tubes in every orafice of my body I looked like
death warmed over.
My lips were dry and cracking from lack of moisture and my hair - well let's
just say the matted mess was in dire need of a Clairol make over.
The only good thing I could deduce from this dilemma was that I had lost 10
pounds, and even that didn't seem to make much difference, not with the six
inch scar running up my middle.
Every day was a stifling repeat of the one before. At least this day I
had something to look forward to. I was curious to meet the royal R.N. dubbed
Lady Di.
Tracy, my aide, came in to get me ready for my morning bath. She helped
me to sit up in the bedside chair, placed the tray table in front of me with
all the necessary toiletries, then left to help the nurse with a patient in
the next room. I may as well have had both my hands tied together , what
with the tube down my nose and IV's in both hands
I sat there wondering how
I was suppose to manage to soap up without getting myself tangled up in
a mess of tubes and cords that were now an external part of me.
The water in my wash basin was nearly ice cold when an elderly woman poked her
head in to see how I was doing.
She took one look and correctly guessed that I was in desperate need of
an extra pair of hands. She ran fresh, hot water and began the chore of
helping me clean up.
A friendly woman, I was having a hard time trying to place her. She
didn't wear the customary smock of the nursing assistants. She
certainly wasn't dressed like a nurse.
Her scruffy shoes, baggy clothes, and tousled hair had me guessing cleaning
lady, but they too wore identifying uniforms.
She took a bottle of shampoo from her pants pocket and began to lather my messy
mane with a scent that resembled floral paradise.
Out of the other pocket she took out body lotion , smoothing it onto my skin
until I felt like sweet smelling silk refreshment from head to toe.
I still looked more than a little under the weather but now my inner spirit
was beginning to shine.
I felt more human and alive than I had in a long time.
She made my bed, cleared everything away and set up my bedside table so
all my essentials were within easy reach.
She told me she'd be back in a little while to check on me. That was the
first day, since my medical ordeal began, that I truly felt like smiling.
I looked in the mirror, almost recognizing myself again, and knowing I
owed it all to this mystery woman who whipped me into a better frame of mind
with a little TLC.
Tracy returned, apologizing for being gone so long. She immediately
noticed I was all coiffed and chipper. I tried my best to describe
the wingless angel who hovered around me like a mother hen, giving me a
much needed lift with her loving touch of human kindness
Tracy knew right away who I was talking about. "Oh, that's
Diane, she's always helping out whenever she has the chance," Tracy declared
matter of factly.
That's when I found out that this kind and gentle woman was Lady Di, the
R.N on duty that day.
I also found out it was the nursing staff there at the hospital who gave
her the nick name, Lady Di.
She didn't resemble an R.N in appearance but she sure taught me that judging a
book by its cover can be awfully deceiving.
I often think of her, especially when I'm tempted to judge someone solely on
looks.
Thanks to her I now know better.
I never did find out why the hospital staff nick named her Lady Di
but, if you ask me, I think it just may be because she treats her patients
like royalty; going beyond the call of duty to make a difference in the
lives of the patients who cross her path.
There are angels among us who are a blessing n disguise,
The gift of their earthly presence gives sight to blinded eyes.
***
Kathy Whirity is a newspaper columnist who lives in Chicago with her
husband Bill of 28 years, thiei daughters, Jaime and Katie, and her 2 loyal
Golden Retrievers, Holly and Hannah.
The love of writing is what motivates Kathy to share her joy with
others. She feels it is a gift from above and feels blessed for the
privilege to touch others with her words.
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