February.
Spirits high. I had made it a whole 1 year at a Registered Nurse on a Medical Surgical floor! I went from being that spastic, nervous cat to a professional, witty, sarcastic nurse who walked into each room confidently. There were hundreds of stories to already share. Ones leaving your face and stomach hurting from laughter. Others only certain ears could hear for their weak stomachs might give. While others would simply grab your hearts and tears was the only natural reaction possible. I couldn't have imagined working with any other audience then these men and women who gave everything for the freedoms I am given.
February.
This particular Veteran came in with multiple comorbidities (two or more chronic diseases). He was left in tremendous pain. He didn't want to be touched, moved. He would yell out, become increasingly angry, and if one didn't do exactly what he asked...run. So imagine the joy that comes over me as I walk into his room to introduce myself. Instantly, my goal was to win this veterans trust and honor. Yes, over the next few weeks I got the "look" (you better get it right next time type), had stern conversations, and simply listened when things became frustrating. However, each day I requested to have this Veteran. Over the month and half, I listened, explained everything I was doing, and educated every moment.
April.
As I walked into the patients room...not there. My stomach dropped. I had only seen this Veteran move three times a week. Bed to stretcher back to bed. And it wasn't a day to be moved to a stretcher. WHERE IS MY PATIENT. Just when I thought my anxiety level was going to tear the ceiling right off I hear, "Molly, here I am." I turn around. My patient is SITTING in a wheelchair. Not only sitting, smiling, laughing. Went for a little stroll with family, outside to enjoy a breath of fresh air (a little brisk, but hey!). I wish I could just plop you into my shoes for one moment. You all. I freaked. Tears welled up. This moment was one very few believed would happen. Hugs were given, cheers were had, and this Veteran later walked out of the hospital.
July.
"Molly. Hi dear. We are back." I look up to see the wife. The diseases had taken over. He was given days. Maybe a week. "I had to come over to your floor and find you. I had to tell you how much you meant to my husband and myself. He never stopped talking about you. The care you gave him, how he felt cared for and loved through you. I hope you always remember that." I'd like to say I composed myself well in this moment. I then walked over to the floor the patient was on to say a little hello. At this point the report I received was poor. He wasn't responding. Little to no communication. I leaned over the bed, put my hand on his shoulder..."Its Nurse Molly. What I fighter you are! I can never say it enough, Thank you thank you for serving our country and the bravery and courage you have always shown. I am so sorry for your pain. You were such a blessing to me and will never forget your stories." As he tried to find words I realized I might not get those from him. I gave the wife one last hug and as I reached the door I heard, "Thank-you."
I will forever get teared up, overwhelmed, and have a million goosebumps thinking of this story.
May you know your presence is enough. May you enjoy every moment you walk. You breath fresh air. You are pain free. You are truly living. This man taught me again to live life to its very fullest. And to not take the "smallest" of blessings for granted.
Still in awe.
