The Nurse

Dee had come to visit her father, who was once again in the hospital. Moaning permeated the floor. “How long has that been going on?” Dee asked. “Most of the night and this morning,” her dad replied. “Poor fellow,” he continued, “he must be in a lot of pain.” Dee was annoyed.

It was the nurse Dee noticed next. How patient and gentle she was with the elderly gentleman who, when he wasn’t moaning, was calling for help. Even closing the door brought no relief. The nurse popped her head in, making sure nothing was needed in the quiet room. “No,” her dad said, “I’m doing just fine.”

Dee and her father chatted for a while, then Dee went into the hall to get a cup of water. The nurse was chatting with a CNA outside the elderly man’s room. Dee briefly heard the word “hospice” as she walked by. Not long after, she heard the commotion in the neighboring room.

Dee could see from the chair in her father’s room. The moaning man had left for, most likely, his last days or maybe hours. No family had accompanied the gurney as he was wheeled down the hall, just two medical personnel. The nurse had said a cheery goodbye, offering words of comfort and hope, touching the man’s hand for a moment. Then she sat briefly at a small computer station and tears fell silently down her cheeks. Whether the old man had family to care for him in his final days Dee would never know. But the nurse, the one who had heard every moan and answered every call for help, cared enough to cry.

Two short minutes later the nurse stood and headed for Dee’s father’s room. “So, Mr. S,” she said with a beautiful, genuine smile on her face, “let’s take your vitals and see what you might need.” An angel in nurse’s clothing.