You have to read this one…

This is actually a response sent in from the silent masses. Instead of just “OK’ing” this, I took the liberty to post the story. I don’t take credit for it. It was written by someone very close to me and I’m not sure if she wants her name put up here or not. It’s a wonderful story and the kind that I’d love for all of you to submit. These little moments of grace and humanity tie us together whether we like it or not. Here you go…

I don’t think that my moment will have had such a profound effect for the future generations you got to touch. That’s pretty awe inspiring. A long time ago (in a land far away called “Evergreen Park”), we had a patient that was very confused. He would yell and fuss all day and well into the night. I believe that the surrounding patients were beginning to form a slightly non-approved plan of retaliation. His family stayed most of the day and evenings to remind him that he was alright. But the nights started to become brutal. I was humming a Christmas tune when I checked on him one night. He admonished me for being so out-of-tune. Humbugger, thought I. Then I asked how he had become a music authority. He told me that he was a music teacher (he forgot that he retired 10yrs earlier), and that I was horribly off-key. Ahhh. The light switched ‘on’. We had a tape player for the Christmas holidays. I found the instrumental Christmas tape and popped it in and put the player right under his pillow. He had a complete transformation at that moment. The hands stopped trying to pull out every tube so that they could direct the music he was hearing. No need for restraints, or drugs. Just music. It became a mission for the nurses to find music that he would love. He sang to us in a voice that told you that he felt and meant every note. when we turned the volume down at night, he somehow knew to keep the singing volume low, as well. I was bathing him the night before he was being discharged and had him pick a tape. I swear truthfully to that night’s finale. It was one of those snows that muffles out all the other noises and then starts to gently fall. I’m noticing this when he starts to sing Little Drummer Boy. Darn it if I wasn’t a weepy nurse right then. To this day, it still gets me. I may have found a way to ease his anxiety and anger; but this confused and very ill man taught a whole unit of nurses something nursing school never could. His spirit touched our lives.

Indeed…Thanks, Love. I love your heart.


~ by trendof1 on August 10, 2010.

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