Part 128 My new best friends the “A” team


She just appears one Saturday morning. This is a lonely day (but as I have observed, all hospital weekends are). I hear footsteps outside of my room and a few muffled voices. But the traffic is minimal. An attractive young nurse knocks lightly, and enters my room. She has light, reddish-brown hair and smiles shyly. She is Sharon and will be working a double shift today. I have been told by my mother-in-law CC to expect her, and that since CC has recently supervised her in her nursing program, I should be pleased with her skill level. I am soon to find that it is high, possibly surpassed only by the superstar male nurse from earlier. She is attentive, and like him, anticipates rather than simply reacting to my requests. She assists with my tube feedings, repositions me, and just makes a gloomy day sunnier by being there. I selfishly ask her to extend her double shift, knowing that I may be at the mercy of who-knows-who when she goes home.

Later in the day I experiment with watching clips of movies I brought, or listening to snippets of songs from CDs. Nothing works very well. I flip through a few pages of magazines or positive thinking books, but they also are not cutting it. The day drags into the evening, broken by occasional ringings of the phone or the usual x-rays and scans. I have stumbled into the bathroom as infrequently as I have to, attempting to hold myself upright, but usually cannot do this unassisted. I first must call the nurse or aide to help me get up and walk me into the bathroom. She then leaves, I stand (tentatively), pee, then pull the wall switch that signals for her to help me back to bed. I lie back, as IV fluids course through my body.

Doctors that I vaguely remember from somewhere come in throughout the day to check on me and ask me the same questions. I almost appreciate their efforts, but not quite.

My routine is similar the next day. By late afternoon the sun streams through my windows, but I am filled with despair. A friendly Hispanic lady named Maria comes in to help me take a bath. I am incapable of doing this entirely by myself. Becah has washed my hair when she has been here. I find that even if I must skip a full bath I still feel worlds better when my scalp is massaged. I try to keep certain areas covered up while she positions me in a chair to bathe me seated. The experience would be very embarrassing if not for my sheer desperation in reclaiming some semblance of cleanliness and normality in my life. She manages to help me and keep my dignity intact. I find that I am as grateful for persons like her as I am for the surgeons that operate on me (in this case, maybe more so, because I harbor, maybe unreasonably, some blame on the experts that couldn’t prevent me from being here now in this condition).

Monday morning means the entrance of the “A” Team. As dawn breaks, Jacob wakes me. He is the quick-thinking resident who saved the day when I was in trouble during surgery. He is short, with dark, thinning hair and moustache, and a youthful smile. I have decided to make him the designated contact person who I will call whenever I am in hospital distress. He leaves quickly, but promises to return, and later arrives accompanied by Dr. Bl- and two more residents. Beth is a pretty blonde resident who is quiet and serious, but polite, and when I question her, is knowledgeable. At her side is Jim, another resident. He towers over me at about six feet six inches, is stocky in build, and looks more like a tight end on a football team than a physician. He smiles broadly and seems intelligent while also somewhat hesitant in his delivery. I am having difficulty taking him seriously as a doctor, and suppress the urge to tell him to go long for a pass.

This group, under the tutelage of Dr. Bl-, will be responsible for reshaping me back into the human being that I once was. They, along with a select group of nurses and aides, will be my new best friends for the remainder of my stay.