Plain Jane RN
I'm in the business of healing, which of course is certainly not limited to physical healing. I've cared for many a husband or wife whose spouse was so overcome with grief as they watched their loved one struggle to recover or even face pending and inevitable death. No one ever said my job stopped with the patient in the bed. Yet no one ever assigned them the duty of ministering to the sickness within my own soul.
The other week I admitted a rather ill middle-aged gentleman. I was unexpectedly surprised as transport rolled the stretcher up the hall and stopped in front of room 181. My Kardex had desribed a man in his mid 50's, but it became more and more evident that hardship, whether in the form of physical illness, or just daily toil, had taken its toll on his countenance, making him appear closer to 70 than 55.
I introduced myself as I escorted his wife and daughter into the room and we began to get the patient settled for the night. Once I had completed my total body assessment, I instructed the patient and his family on how to contact me for needs. Before leaving the room to gather the necessary paperwork to be completed, I kneeled at the patient's bedside to raise the siderail. He hadn't said much since his arrival, yet I hadn't expected much from someone so sick. But just as I came to his eye level, he spoke.
"Oh you're pretty," he exclaimed. Slightly embarrassed I smiled sheepishly and thanked him for the compliment.
For the rest of the night I marveled at his insight. It's not that I think I'm ugly. I've just always considered myself to be a Plain Jane. There's really nothing extraordinary about me. If I were a flower, I'd be a daisy. If I were a piece of candy, I'd be a Hershey bar. Plain. Simple.
But really it's not even the compliment itself that impressed me. It's the man. Belonging to a generation whose intricasies I will never fully understand, he just seemed to see things differently, to appreciate the more simple things of this life.
The majority of men I know, expect so much. Or so it seems. Simple is not enough, and certainly not pretty. There has to be more. Always more, never less. But my patients, whether male or female, come from a time when less was more and simplicity was beautiful, even hallowed.
I felt healed that night, filled with a renewed sense of contentment with who I am. Just plain ole' me. Always less, and never more.
The other week I admitted a rather ill middle-aged gentleman. I was unexpectedly surprised as transport rolled the stretcher up the hall and stopped in front of room 181. My Kardex had desribed a man in his mid 50's, but it became more and more evident that hardship, whether in the form of physical illness, or just daily toil, had taken its toll on his countenance, making him appear closer to 70 than 55.
I introduced myself as I escorted his wife and daughter into the room and we began to get the patient settled for the night. Once I had completed my total body assessment, I instructed the patient and his family on how to contact me for needs. Before leaving the room to gather the necessary paperwork to be completed, I kneeled at the patient's bedside to raise the siderail. He hadn't said much since his arrival, yet I hadn't expected much from someone so sick. But just as I came to his eye level, he spoke.
"Oh you're pretty," he exclaimed. Slightly embarrassed I smiled sheepishly and thanked him for the compliment.
For the rest of the night I marveled at his insight. It's not that I think I'm ugly. I've just always considered myself to be a Plain Jane. There's really nothing extraordinary about me. If I were a flower, I'd be a daisy. If I were a piece of candy, I'd be a Hershey bar. Plain. Simple.
But really it's not even the compliment itself that impressed me. It's the man. Belonging to a generation whose intricasies I will never fully understand, he just seemed to see things differently, to appreciate the more simple things of this life.
The majority of men I know, expect so much. Or so it seems. Simple is not enough, and certainly not pretty. There has to be more. Always more, never less. But my patients, whether male or female, come from a time when less was more and simplicity was beautiful, even hallowed.
I felt healed that night, filled with a renewed sense of contentment with who I am. Just plain ole' me. Always less, and never more.
posted by Patti RN | 2:23 AM
1 Comments:
hmmmm. it's another sigh. i wonder how phoo-dick feels about her appearance, because i am also always down on myself on that one. if i get compliments i don't believe them, i only need look at any other girl standing next to me to know what the truth really is.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home