I worked as a nurse in a coronary care unit. Medical professionals have their own language, and sometimes forget the average person doesn’t speak “medicalese.” One of my patients was newly diagnosed with myocardial infarction, the medical term for a heart attack. I accompanied his doctor in as he talked to the patient, telling him he had a myocardial infarction.

After we left the room, I asked the doctor if he thought the patient understood what he was told. He assured me he did. When I returned to the patient’s room a few minutes later, I asked him if he understood what the doctor told him.

He said, “Oh, yes. I’m so relieved. I thought I’d had a heart attack.”

My friend is a great prankster. He was in the hospital one time and the nurse came in to leave a specimen cup so they could collect a urine sample. My friend had received apricot nectar with his breakfast. After the nurse left, he poured the apricot nectar into the specimen cup. When the nurse returned, she looked at and commented that it looked pretty bad. Picking up the cup, my friend drank it down, commenting, “Well, I’ll run it through again!”

I stayed in the hospital for three nights after giving birth to my son. When my partner came to take me home, we couldn’t find my shoes anywhere. We searched almost every place I had been whilst in the hospital.

My trainers were found by a nurse, under the bed in the birthing room.

I went home barefoot.

I was feeling miserable at bedtime, and by 2:00 am I realized that it was an allergic reaction. My knees, elbows, neck, and spine were all swelling up and had gotten red, hot, itchy, and painful. When my six-year-old son woke up around 6:30 am, I grabbed some bananas and granola bars for him to eat in the car and headed to the hospital.  

By noon, I had had an IV of medication for almost four hours and was starting to feel better, while my son was bored and very hungry. The nurse served my lunch, and even though I was feeling better and getting hungry, I just grabbed the tiny, Barbie-sized coffee and gave the rest to my long-suffering son, who really needed it. About ten minutes later, the nurse came back, saw me with the coffee cup and my son with the rest of the lunch, and left.

About ten minutes after that, she came back claiming that someone had been released after the lunch orders were placed and that there was an extra lunch, so I could have it “for my son” if I wanted.

The emergency was swamped that day — I think my nurse had about 15 people she was looking after — and for her to take the time to make that gesture meant a lot for me, especially since I didn’t get released until about 5:00 pm. I still don’t know if there really was an extra lunch on the floor, or if she ordered it special, and I wouldn’t have starved not being able to eat until later, but I was definitely more comfortable and happy with a lunch in me, and I am super grateful for the   nurses in our local hospital!

(My father happens to be totally blind, and he and his rabbi are visiting my mother in the hospital where she is being treated for cancer. Besides being blind, my father is able-bodied. The rabbi walks with a very defined limp.)

Father: “Thank you for driving me here, Rabbi. I just wanted to warn you that the nurses here must think people walk and hear with their eyes. They’re going to offer me a wheelchair, and they’ll address any questions to you.”

Rabbi: “What? I’m sure they won’t.”

Father: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

(The rabbi and my father walk into the hospital and go to sign in as visitors. Immediately…)

Nurse: “Wait here while I call someone to bring a wheelchair.”

Rabbi: “It’s okay; I can manage the elevator without it.”

Nurse: “What? Oh, no, it’s not for you. It’s for him.”

Father: “I don’t need a wheelchair, really.”

Nurse: *to the rabbi* “Are you sure he’ll be okay without it?”

Rabbi: *to my father, after they manage to turn down the wheelchair and head for the elevator* “You were right!”