The Minnesota Farm Woman

This is a reprint of something I wrote five years ago. I am a lot like my father and want edit everything, but the only thing I changed were the dates.  Originally published in the St. Augustine Record.

If life were like the movies, Mary would have been an angel in disguise, sent from above to save a nurse from herself. Julia Roberts would be a good choice to play me, the nurse.

Mary was a middle-aged professional woman who was my patient. I was a busy young nurse who wanted another career.  While she was fighting a disease with a very low survival rate, I was contemplating getting out of nursing and doing absolutely anything else.  I took care of Mary for weeks.  Her condition ranged from barely responsive to stubborn and angry.  In any case, Mary was very ill.  She was a difficult patient, and I enjoyed the challenge but not the job.

I took a break from her for a few days, assigning her to another nurse.  I visited her one day and she glared at me:  “Where have you been?”  I resumed my assignment the next day.  For some strange reason, I missed her.  I asked Mary once if there was anything she needed.  “Outside”,  she whispered, vocal chords bruised from intubation.  I knew it was a nearly impossible task, but told her I would try to get her outside when she was well enough.  I didn’t mean it, and hoped she would forget.  Mary could barely sit up for ten minutes.  She required high doses of oxygen to breathe.  She was on numerous medications, and was often mildly confused, but she didn’t forget.

With the thought of going outside, Mary improved dramatically over the next few days.  We trekked outside like a circus train, hauling oxygen tanks and monitors, emergency supplies, and Mary.  We were outside for all of ten minutes.  We didn’t speak.  Mary closed her eyes and raised her face to the sun, a smile on her face.  I hurried her back, as I had paperwork to do.

If life were like the movies, we would now shed a tear as the patient arises from her wheelchair, miraculously healed.  Julia Roberts would see the error of her ways and in the meantime, fall in love with the millionaire son of another patient.  This was real life, though.  Mary did improve enough to leave our unit, but faced weeks of hard work to regain her strength.  She eventually was able to return to her career.

About a month after Mary was discharged, she came to our unit.  “I hate it here”, she said.  “Because it brings back bad memories of my illness, but I had to come back and thank you for the gift”.  “Gift?” I asked. “The day you took me outside, you saved my life.  Up until that moment, I knew I wouldn’t make it”.

If life were like the movies, Mary and I would become the best of friends, sharing tea together for many years until we were old ladies.  In real life, we saw each other only twice more.  Mary had a busy career, and touched a lot of lives before her sudden death a few years later.

I will be celebrating my 30th year of nursing in 2011.  Yes, celebrating is the correct word.  I am proud to be a nurse.  There are still days that I want to do anything else BUT nursing.  There are days that I want to brush off a question or not take the extra time to help someone else.  There are days that I don’t want to say “Don’t worry about it”, or “Take your time”.  On these days and many others, I remember Mary’s words.  The rewards I get from treating people with respect bring a sense of satisfaction that carries over into everyday life.  The way my simple act of kindness helped Mary goes without saying, but oh, to have one gloriously selfish, movie star moment, just think about what that simple act of kindness did for me.