Weep for the Loss

Today, as I helped remove the IV of a patient who we just shocked into a life sustaining heart rhythm, he grabbed the hands of me and my fellow nurse, breaking into a sob-punctuated prayer of thanks for the care he received.

It made me weep a little, too, clandestinely. I think of all the ones I have saved. I think of the ones that I have not really wanted to save but did so anyway, my heart torn between the prospect of making them suffer and making them live. I think of other hands I have held, while they lay dying, alone. Maybe the 17 year old who jumped off a bridge, who didn't feel like he had any reason to live. Maybe the 29 year old who hung himself, whose distraught wife I comforted as she screamed after finding him, cold and blue and wet from self urination. Maybe the 5 year old, as I translate for a room full of red-lidded eyes who yearn for an answer that their baby will grow up. I think of myself, tortured by thousands of dreams in which I push on my own baby's chest while waiting for their eyes to remove their glaze.

I don't know always why I weep. But today, it was wonderful to have a patient pray for me. Too often, the caregiver's pain is forgotten. Too often, we forget it ourselves. Too often, we don't pray for each other.

Tunnel Singing

Ah, the nostalgia. Those cool, crisp nights that spontaneously drew large groups of hopeful, young, clean-faced BYU college students to swell together singing the well-worn hymns of Zion in the small tunnels the criss-crossed underneath the sidewalks of campus. I remember always hoping that one of the beautiful girls would draw herself closer, sometimes pulling herself under a friendly but coquettish side-armed hug while we harmonized in the gathering twilight. I wasn't very forward, but I was always interested. 

I loved my time there at BYU, and I mean that in the very essence of the word, loved. I practically worshipped that campus, and hungrily devoured every bit of knowledge afforded to me. My places of employment at the BYU Creamery on 9th and with the campus custodial services led me to some of the college friendships that, to this day, I treasure the most. 

Those days are my past. The campus has transformed, the students evolved.