Yesterday a nurse came to my apartment to take a blood sample, weight me, measure me, copy down a bunch of stuff from my driver’s license. She was a very sweet middle-aged woman named Elaine. We’d spoken over the phone setting up the appointment and she seemed a bit frazzled but kind.
I debated about telling her why the appointment was emotional for me before she arrived. But I knew I might break down. Once she arrived and we headed into the kitchen, I found myself telling her. She had short, curly hair, kind eyes, and was wearing a nurse’s uniform with little flowers on it. As it turns out, she hears sad stories like this all of the time in her profession. Still, she was shocked and asked a lot of questions. She told me that you never know because sometimes there could have been some reason why it had to be this way. I give her credit for saying that to me. She also said that I would find the strength. Meanwhile Audrey got out her new doctor kit and quietly showed Elaine her instruments.
Elaine has a fifteen year old daughter and looked me right in the eye and said sarcastically, “it’s fun…” She assured me Audrey would be my savior and “your shopping buddy.”
I let Audrey watch as Elaine took my blood and my blood pressure. Audrey stood beside me and got out her own blood pressure gauge.
The visit was over in fifteen minutes and was surprisingly pleasant. Elaine told me I looked like I was in my 20’s and that Audrey was a “little Einstein” and should be tested and receive a full scholarship to a nearby private school. She was extremely enthusiastic about this part, and at one point, told me I should “drown her” in different kinds of stimulation, etc. As soon as she said “drown her,” she stopped, put her head in her hands and turned red, apologizing. I laughed quite a bit and told her that I now had a very dark sense of humor and it was quite alright.