Story of the Day
"Jelly
Hearts"
I was in my second year of nurse's training at Children's Hospital when I fell
in love with Jimmy. His eyes were the purple of a full-moon sky. His
golden hair tossed rings of curls onto strawberry blush cheeks. He looked
like a cherub in the stained-glass cathedral windows. But he had the wail
of a lonely, frightened, orphaned baby, which he was.
Jimmy was in the
communicable diseases wing, isolated with measles and pneumonia. He had to
be enclosed in his oxygen-tent-covered crib most of the time. When he
wasn't sleeping, he was crying to get out. But he always stopped crying
when I entered his room because he knew I would cuddle, rock and sing to him.
The Children's Orphanage had been his only home most of his fifteen months of
life. I knew he was well tended there, but no institution care can replace
a mother's love. As I hummed a lullaby, I fantasized. "Jimmy, I
promise you that as soon as I finish nursing school, I will find a way to become
your full-time mommy. You will be my special little angel."
My mind eagerly
formed wedding plans for right after graduation. The man I married would
just have to love this beautiful baby as much as I did.
The door opened a
crack. My supervisor hissed, "Miss White! Have you completed
all of your work and finished charting?"
"Almost, Miss
Stickleby."
"It's nearly
time to go off duty. Put the baby down now. Check on your other
patients, and then go help Miss Nelson. I believe she had an extra patient
today." The door closed before I could answer. Suzie Nelson did
not have an extra patient. I did. Suzie was assigned as Jimmy's
nurse, but I asked to have him added to my patient load. I wanted the
extra time with him since I'd be on vacation the next three days.
Deliberately, I
dawdled, massaging his thin little legs, playing peek-a-boo with his yellow
ducky blanket, urging gurgling giggles between his raspy breaths. He was
more responsive and playful than I'd seen him before, and his grasp was
stronger. A good sign of improving condition.
A loud tap rattled
the ward window. Stickleby.
Quickly, I gave
Jimmy his favorite squeaky bear and an extra farewell backrub. As his
eyelids closed over his pansy eyes, I tucked the oxygen tent around his crib and
whispered good-bye.
Back at the nurse's
station, Miss Stickleby glared as I signed off Jimmy's chart. Who was
she anyway? I wondered. We students couldn't fault her as a
teacher and supervisor. She saw to it that we were all as conscientious in
our duties as she was. But although the hospital policy encouraged staff
and students to hold, play with, read and talk to all the children in our care,
we never saw her cooing over a baby or reading to a toddler. By the end of
the shift, our pink student uniforms were always rumpled and damp. Miss
Stickleby's looked as starched and clean as at the start of the day.
Unlike my netted unruly locks, no wisps of auburn hair escaped from under her
square pillbox nurse cap. She was such a proper, capable nurse. Why
did she hide her heart?
I waved good-bye to
Jimmy's room as I hurried off duty, excited to have a mountain of fun. But
at the same time, I was eager to return to my bright-eyed, nearly recovered
Jimmy.
While on vacation,
I bought several silly, washable toys for "my little guy." He
had only the disposable ones given by the local children's societies.
Before he went back to the orphanage, everything would be burned, of course, to
prevent cross-contamination.
Holiday over, I
rushed back to work and eagerly peeked through Jimmy's window on my way to the
ward station. His crib was clean and empty.
"Where did you
move Jimmy?" I asked the night nurse.
"Oh, he died
Saturday night. Didn't you know?" Such a casual answer.
My body turned to
clabbered milk. I fell into the chair, crushing the toy bag.
"I'm sorry,
Joy. He was such a special little kid." She released a long,
exhausted sigh. "Saturday night was a bad night."
Beyond consolation,
I stumbled into the nurse's lounge where I could release a great wash of tears.
"Miss
White!" It was Stickleby's clipped, stern voice. "Time for
report. Dry your eyes and get on duty. Now, please."
All of the emotion
I felt for Jimmy poured out like boiling oil over this cold, unfeeling woman.
"How can you
be so uncaring?" I yelled. "It's bad enough that Jimmy's
beautiful little life is snuffed out, but he didn't even have a mama to comfort
him or to care that he died. And you? Do you care about him or any
other little life? No! Just, 'Miss White, go to work. Pretend
everything is the same.' Well, it isn't the same. I care! I
loved that little boy!"
Tears spattered
down the front of my uniform.
A handkerchief
dropped onto my wet lap. I felt a soft touch on my shoulder. Miss
Stickleby stood at my side, teardrops softening her stiff uniform.
"Miss White
– Joy," her voice was a husky whisper. "There are far too many
Jimmys in our profession. They can wreck our hearts if we let them.
You and I are jelly hearts. We will always be searching for ways to cope.
One thing I know for sure is that we must give equal attention to each child.
To single out one child can destroy us and can limit our ability to be an
effective nurse."
She blotted her
face. "It may give you comfort to know that Jimmy did not die alone.
Death took him softly from my arms."
We sat together for
a brief time, the seasoned jelly-hearted teacher and the green jelly-hearted
student, crying.
Then we put on our
fresh nurse faces and went out to love and care for all the little children in
our charges.