Don't Curse the Nurse!

Sharing support with stories & humor

Visitor

on May 7, 2014

      

Image“Hello…” he whispers, “I’m here.”

 “Go away” I say.

 “Come on…” he murmurs, “she’s eighty-four.”

His manner is frustrating, but I remain congenial. I know my place.

“She wants to go home and see her grandkids. She told me so.”

“Hmm”

 He sounded like a cat curled up in corner.

“Please” I sound like I am begging, but I don’t care.

Finally, she stirs under the thin blanket.

I feel the nitrogen and oxygen molecules in the air begin to move again.

Another good day.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

 

 


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