The Kindness of Strangers

It was a week ago today I was checking into Vanderbilt for brain surgery. I am writing this at five in the morning after a long night, but I'm writing from my own home and deeply aware of the many kindnesses that have been shown me. I've been thinking about this all night and wanted to record what is on my heart before the memories begin to fade.

I wish I could honor by name each of the kind and compassionate people who blessed me during my stay at Vanderbilt.  I remember when I was a little girl in school, I would sit in class and wonder what it would be like to be one of the smart students. Well, I never did get to find out, but now so many years later I do know what it's like to be the patient of brilliant capable kind strangers. There were so many on the team that morning helping me, and they all introduced themselves to me.  I looked into their kind eyes and found comfort.

I have many very wonderful friends who are nurses. It is a special calling, a demanding calling. My surgery began last week at seven-thirty in the morning, and I was put in NeuroICU at ten-thirty that night. All night long it seemed as if I was being attended to by ministering angels. I was aware of intense thirst and a night that seemed unending, but I was intensely comforted by the efficiency of those who never left my side. The young red headed nurse, whose name I do not know but who seemed to understand my unspoken needs, stayed with me all night and then took me to have an MRI at five that morning. Hers was the last face I saw before the cage was put over my face and I was slowly inserted into the capsule.  Her presence gave me courage, since she seemed to have never left my side during that first eternal night.

The last day of my stay there was a gentle tap at the door and the room was quietly filled the kind presence of the cleaning lady. I could only follow her with my eyes; I was aware of her diligence.  I thanked her and told how comforting it was for me to be so beautifully care for.  She smiled and said that was her true goal, not just to clean the room, but to bring me comfort. It was hard not to cry, as before she left the room, she came to my bed and said, "Honey, God loves you. He's watching over you and you're going to be all right."  Looking into her eyes I realized I was no longer in the presence of a stranger. I saw the reflection of Jesus in her eyes.