Every now and then I think about one of the ER visits I had for a migraine attack that was so severe my hip dislocated from the force of my convulsive vomiting, and I had to hold my head up with my hands because shortly after that my collarbone popped out and subluxated my neck, so I couldn’t lift my head up without help. All while in excruciating, radiating pain and continuing to throw up uncontrollably.
I had two nurses in that room with me that night, one who thought I was lying about my hip dislocation and thought I was being difficult on purpose until she actively saw my neck subluxate, and then she turned white as a ghost and ran to fill my script.
And the other who helped me up onto the bed out of the wheelchair, all but carrying my full weight as he murmured over and over again, “it’s okay, you’re okay, we’re going to help you, you don’t need to be sorry” as I kept apologizing for being difficult.
I’m sure I was one of many, many people he saw that night. He looked exhausted. But he still chose kindness. I think about him a lot. I hope he knows it made a difference.
