A funny little world
This is about how little things can make a difference, but mostly it's because I find it morbidly funny.
I have just finished a 3-day work weekend. Meaning I worked to no end.
On day 1, I noticed someone had thrown out a lot of lovely flower arrangements. Perhaps because we have been noticing gnats, but I still thought it was a shame. Do not fear, I didn't go dumpster diving.
On day 2, I went into a patient's room to help belay the beeping of IV pumps. When I went in, I noticed that the patient, who had had a forequarter resection (meaning one of her arms and shoulders was amputated), had several magnificent flower arrangements, and then a dozen pink roses still wrapped in plastic. I asked if she wanted a vase for them, and she consented, so I went to the nurse break room because you can find the oddest things there. I located a purple glass vase, then trimmed the rose stems and placed them in water and returned the very feminine arrangement to her room.
On day 3, in the last quarter of the shift, one of my co-workers came searching the unit for flowers. It's quite common for patients to leave the flower arrangements that friends give them, sometimes accidentally, sometimes purposefully, to the nurses. I believe it has more to do with the awkwardness of carrying multiple flower arrangements than a patient tradition or an expectation of the nurses. Anyway, I wanted to know why Lauren really needed flowers, as she examined the counters and determined which rooms looked promising. So I asked, and she said that it was her parents' anniversary, and she wanted to give them flowers. I'd been in every room over the weekend, so I knew the only room with flowers was the patient to whom I had given a vase. I informed her of this, but I also mentioned that the patient had a forequarter resection. So basically, she would be taking flowers from a one-armed cancer patient.
Let the implications of that sink in. Consider, in good humor, the immediate sympathy the patient deserved.
"Um, well, she has lots of flowers, right? Can I just take one?"
I noted furthermore that it would be really bad to steal flowers from a one-armed cancer patient.
"Okay, well, will you ask for me?"
I agreed to ask, because working three days in a row can infuse one with real boldness. Or real pigheadedness. I figured Lauren had a better chance of getting a flower if the patient had some sort of relationship with the flower emissary.
I knocked on her door, and found that the patient had her nurse (yes, I never was in charge of her care) AND her family in the room. Super awkward, but oh well, I was running on pigheadedness.
So out my request came.
"This will be a really odd question, but I have a co-worker who would like a flower for her parents' anniversary. Could I take one?"
The patient, to her incredibly great credit, said, "Of course!" I selected a pink rose, and presented it to Lauren.
The hero in this story is the patient, because surely it takes great courage to look beyond one's own pain and loss to celebrate another's joy and gain.
But the interesting thing is, if her IV pump hadn't have beeped as much as it did, and I hadn't gone in, and hadn't provided a vase, she would not have had the mettle-proving choice that resulted in the gift of a rose.
Also, I would like to apologize to anyone who is offended by this story.
I have just finished a 3-day work weekend. Meaning I worked to no end.
On day 1, I noticed someone had thrown out a lot of lovely flower arrangements. Perhaps because we have been noticing gnats, but I still thought it was a shame. Do not fear, I didn't go dumpster diving.
On day 2, I went into a patient's room to help belay the beeping of IV pumps. When I went in, I noticed that the patient, who had had a forequarter resection (meaning one of her arms and shoulders was amputated), had several magnificent flower arrangements, and then a dozen pink roses still wrapped in plastic. I asked if she wanted a vase for them, and she consented, so I went to the nurse break room because you can find the oddest things there. I located a purple glass vase, then trimmed the rose stems and placed them in water and returned the very feminine arrangement to her room.
Let the implications of that sink in. Consider, in good humor, the immediate sympathy the patient deserved.
"Um, well, she has lots of flowers, right? Can I just take one?"
I noted furthermore that it would be really bad to steal flowers from a one-armed cancer patient.
"Okay, well, will you ask for me?"
I agreed to ask, because working three days in a row can infuse one with real boldness. Or real pigheadedness. I figured Lauren had a better chance of getting a flower if the patient had some sort of relationship with the flower emissary.
I knocked on her door, and found that the patient had her nurse (yes, I never was in charge of her care) AND her family in the room. Super awkward, but oh well, I was running on pigheadedness.
So out my request came.
"This will be a really odd question, but I have a co-worker who would like a flower for her parents' anniversary. Could I take one?"
The patient, to her incredibly great credit, said, "Of course!" I selected a pink rose, and presented it to Lauren.
The hero in this story is the patient, because surely it takes great courage to look beyond one's own pain and loss to celebrate another's joy and gain.
But the interesting thing is, if her IV pump hadn't have beeped as much as it did, and I hadn't gone in, and hadn't provided a vase, she would not have had the mettle-proving choice that resulted in the gift of a rose.
Also, I would like to apologize to anyone who is offended by this story.
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