Have you seen one of these recently? We just spent three days and nights in the, The City of Medicine (the hospital), and I never saw a one of these. Anywhere! Come to think about it, I did see one person in all white, and they were working the midnight shift. (Wait, perhaps I was dreaming that?) No hat or all white uniforms to be found in the The City of Medicine anymore.
It’s amazing how the dress code has changed in the medical field. Years and years ago, the nursing staff was always in white and wore a chic hat. Then, somewhere they lost the hat, and wore just all white. Then they went to white pants and colorful tops. Then they went to colorful tops, and colorful pants. Then they went from all women, to women and men.
I had returned to MacGyver’s room around noon on Monday. Dr. J and Dr. I had been in, and we were patiently awaiting surgery around 3:00 p.m. Mac had been sleeping so I decided it was a good time to go home for a shower, and a breath of air. I packed a few of the necessities, a book, Life-Savers, Kleenex, several cans of Coke and a tooth brush, and a word search all those things that make life just a little easier in the hospital. Getting a shower was wonderful but there are other things that are useful too.
I curled up in that uncomfortable high back leather chair, next to the balcony door of room 275E, and pulled out my book. I recently purchased a copy of the late Ted Kennedy’s memoir True Compass. I must have nodded off because I awoke to see a sandy blond haired man, with a mustache, dresses in brown, fiddling around with Mac’s I.V. pole.
Mac also opened his eyes, and we quietly watched this man as he looked over the bags of liquid that were slowly dripping into Mac’s arm. He looked over at us, as if he sensed that we were both watching him, and in a high falsetto squeal he introduced himself as Bill. I will be your nurse for the day. He said with a smile. I was startled by this odd squeal, and lost my grip on True Compass. It slid off my lap and hit the floor with a thud. I quickly, but casually bent over to rescue it, and began to giggle.
Bill continued to chat with Mac in that high pitch shriek as I sat back in my chair. My hand now over my mouth in complete bewilderment, and concealment of my snickering. Hoping that neither I nor Mac would not bust out in total laughter! Making us feel like complete idiots. I’m sure there is a medical reason for that high pitched squeal coming from this normal looking man.
After Bill left, I looked over at Mac, who had turned to me with his wide eyes, and a child like grin on his face. We both said, “IS HE ON HELIUM, O2 or something?” We then broke out in total laughter! We completely lost it.
Bill remained with us until 11:00 p.m. that Monday evening. He was a wonderful nurse. I can safely say, hands down, he was the funniest, and made that lengthy day go by much faster. He spent a great deal of time with us, perhaps because I was always engaging him in banter. It seemed to entertain Mac. It was the finest medicine anyone could have prescribed, as we waited for surgery!