A Note to Nurses
I am not a nurse. I wasn’t born with the genes for nursing, but I work alongside nurses each day. They’re busy from the second they clock in at the nursing home until they leave, often working overtime to finish their patient notes or working a double shift. Some residents are demanding and unappreciative, yet the nurses still devote their time to providing the best care. They have bus-size more patience than me. Last week, I had the surprise of observing from the flip side—from a hospital bed, a humbling position. From the moment the admitting nurse handed me a white cotton gown with the blue diamond print, snaps on shoulders, and open back, I was humbled. The ties, dangling at the side, are completely useless and do nothing to improve the silhouette. One size fits all. Lying on that hospital bed, I was quickly transformed into a patient, dependent on nursing care. It’s hard to do much when your arm is attached to an IV pole. Of course, I wanted to get better, so I le