Nurses are moms with advanced education

Every job has it’s perks. Every job also has it’s downside. Last week my daughter, Beth, called me and asked me to guess what she got for Nurses’ Week. From her upbeat tone, I guessed flowers, maybe some sweet treats or other pleasant surprise.
I was wrong. Very wrong.
She said she got bit. A three-year-old had tried to take a chunk out of her calf but only succeeded in biting her pant leg. It seems she was giving a shot to the biter’s older brother and the little one was trying to protect him.
The father was mortified. Beth was more worried about any germs the pre-schooler might have gotten from her pants. Another nurse obtained a couple of frozen treats for the children. This calmed the one getting the shot and gave the other one something acceptable to bite. The little one was forced to apologize. And my daughter had a story to share.
Most of us don’t have to worry about being bitten when we do our jobs. We worry more about machinery that doesn’t work, irritating co-workers, deadlines and other such things. Beth and other nurses have gotten bit, hit, cursed, propositioned and much worse as a part of their chosen profession. Yet, they go back every day for more and don’t see themselves as anything special.
I think of nurses, both male and female, as moms with advanced education. Like most moms, they know far more than they let on. I think of nurses as moms who take care of other people at the expense of their own health.
Whenever I have had to deal with medical personnel it has been the nurses that I remember. They are the ones who deal with the day to day care. They are the ones who fed my mom her last few bites of food. They are the ones who made sure she was as comfortable as possible. They are the ones who translated information into language we could understand.
Nurses are the ones whom we depend on to care for us when we can’t care for ourselves. The doctors may give the orders, but it is the nurses who pat us when we won’t admit that we are scared. It is my own private nurse, Beth, who translates test results and whom I rely on to calm my fears or forces me to see a doctor.
Nurses’ Week was May 6 to May 12 this year. May 12 is the birthday of Florence Nightingale. Good old Flo is one of the few nurses to make the history books and most of us know her name. She represents all the unnamed women and men who have been caregivers and comfort providers over the centuries. I wonder if anybody ever bit her.
When I was a little girl I wanted to be a nurse, or a ballerina, as did many girls of that era. I have no sense of rhythm and am far from tall and willowy so I gave up on being a ballerina. The nurse dream lasted longer. But when I figured out all the disgusting stuff nurses have to do and the crazy hours they work, I shelved that ambition, also.
My daughter didn’t start out wanting to be a nurse. It was the promise of a good paycheck that she found appealing. Once she completed school and got out into the real world, she found she liked the work as much as the paycheck. She pooh-poohs me whenever I tell her to go out and save lives.
Yet, that is what she, and all the other nurses, do on a daily basis. They save lives. And sometimes they or their clothing gets bitten, or worse. To all the nurses out there, I thank you. And I promise to never bite.