Love

As a young girl in the sixties I read Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books.  I dreamed of solving cases.  I read biographies and dreamed of new inventions, thought about what made a person into a powerful leader.  I also read the Cherry Ames student nurse books.  I never once dreamed of being a nurse.  I have a notoriously weak stomach.  As I helped my mother around the house and saw some of the chores she dealt with without a shutter I wasn’t even sure I could handle being a mother.  

As a teacher I’ve solved my share of mysteries and crimes and I often lead a mighty band of ruffians down the hall, but I still possess a queasy stomach.  I’ve passed out looking at my own bruised leg.  I lay down to have my blood drawn and I always close my eyes before a syringe comes near me. 

As a daughter in law of an elderly frail woman I’m finally learning that love can overcome revolting sights.  My own children began to teach me this lesson.  They were helpless and needy and my love overcame.  When our son Brad broke his arm, I never looked at the injury, just in his eyes as we waited for the ambulance to arrive.  When my husband shattered his ankle I confess I had to put my head between my knees, and that second ambulance attendant was kind enough to take my pulse, but I should get credit for staying conscious and later for beating the ambulance to the hospital.

I’ll spare you the details of my day, but I believe I acted in love and concern and hid how uncomfortable spending the day in nurse’s aide role made me.  I hope my love has shown through. 

I hope her daughter, the family nurse, has the day off tomorrow!