I can still see their faces....
I can still see their faces. Just one shift in the ER and I long for the return of God in a way I have never known before…
Joni a ten-year-old has chocolate skin, almond eyes, and a round tummy from “too much chicken alfredo” according to her attentive mother. “You are beautiful!” She exclaims as I walk in and introduce myself as her nurse. As I explain the need for a blood draw, which understandably deters most friendships with my little patients, Joni beams. “That’s okay! Your eyes are so pretty too!” I smile and soak in the sweet innocence of her words. Her blood will soon be sent with a special signed consent to the laboratory for hepatitis and HIV testing. Diseases which Joni does not even know exist.
The social worker, skilled and compassionate, has already completed the suspected child abuse and neglect or SCAN interview. The police stand outside Joni’s room. Once the paperwork is finished they can leave to take Joni’s neighbor, who has children of his own, into custody for sexual abuse.
Then there is Lailah. Her hair is shaved on the top of her head where her scar is surgical scar is prominent. The rest of her hair is neatly woven into two ebony braids. With her delicate fingers she presses gauze to dab her leaking head wound. Two weeks ago she felt like she had the flu, today she came to the ER after undergoing a surgery for a brain tumor resection just days before. She will be admitted for probable wound infection. “Tomorrow I turn eleven.” Lailah says quietly as I enter the curtained room. I smile. “Amazing! So your birthday gift will be getting better fast and getting out of here?” I ask. She nods and looks at her mom who sits at Lailah’s bedside. “Did you know I want to be a nurse?” Lailah asks, then continues, “How old are you?” Lailah’s resilience is tangible in her friendliness and sharp curiosity. “I am twenty-two- what makes you want to be a nurse Miss Lailah?” I ask. “Oh.” Lailah says and is satisfied for a moment. She pauses as I adjust her IV fluids. I feel a tug on my scub top. Lailah meets my eyes and says. “I want to be a nurse because I want to help people, like you.”
Thank you God for my patients, bless them and their families. Thank you for your humility. I am grateful beyond words.
Joni a ten-year-old has chocolate skin, almond eyes, and a round tummy from “too much chicken alfredo” according to her attentive mother. “You are beautiful!” She exclaims as I walk in and introduce myself as her nurse. As I explain the need for a blood draw, which understandably deters most friendships with my little patients, Joni beams. “That’s okay! Your eyes are so pretty too!” I smile and soak in the sweet innocence of her words. Her blood will soon be sent with a special signed consent to the laboratory for hepatitis and HIV testing. Diseases which Joni does not even know exist.
The social worker, skilled and compassionate, has already completed the suspected child abuse and neglect or SCAN interview. The police stand outside Joni’s room. Once the paperwork is finished they can leave to take Joni’s neighbor, who has children of his own, into custody for sexual abuse.
Then there is Lailah. Her hair is shaved on the top of her head where her scar is surgical scar is prominent. The rest of her hair is neatly woven into two ebony braids. With her delicate fingers she presses gauze to dab her leaking head wound. Two weeks ago she felt like she had the flu, today she came to the ER after undergoing a surgery for a brain tumor resection just days before. She will be admitted for probable wound infection. “Tomorrow I turn eleven.” Lailah says quietly as I enter the curtained room. I smile. “Amazing! So your birthday gift will be getting better fast and getting out of here?” I ask. She nods and looks at her mom who sits at Lailah’s bedside. “Did you know I want to be a nurse?” Lailah asks, then continues, “How old are you?” Lailah’s resilience is tangible in her friendliness and sharp curiosity. “I am twenty-two- what makes you want to be a nurse Miss Lailah?” I ask. “Oh.” Lailah says and is satisfied for a moment. She pauses as I adjust her IV fluids. I feel a tug on my scub top. Lailah meets my eyes and says. “I want to be a nurse because I want to help people, like you.”
Thank you God for my patients, bless them and their families. Thank you for your humility. I am grateful beyond words.
posted by Amanda Deardorff at 3:52 PM
1 Comments:
I can't believe it took me this long to find your blog!!!! Whenever I read what you write, I end up with tears in my eyes and a bit of an ache in my heart.
Strength to you, Sister!
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