Whatever It Takes

 

photo-1484100356142-db6ab6244067 (1)It’s funny how our minds work, and the way we never know what random memory might pop up during conversations about something else. My nephew and I were talking about looking forward to seeing each other on Easter (we don’t get to be together often enough) and about music. In a family with some really talented singers, we always joke that we are the ones who can’t carry a tune despite never giving up trying… repeatedly…  loudly. I suspect he really can sing but holds back to spare my feelings! Talking with him reminded me of what happened with one of my patients years ago.

Adam was a 35 year old man who had received a transplant several days before I took care of him. He had been in relatively good shape prior to surgery so the team and I were eager to get him up walking. Unfortunately, he was not eager at all. He would walk once a day, sit in the chair for maybe 30 minutes, and then he was done. Finished. No more.

His sisters and I tried everything we could think of to make him increase his activity; they would plead, beg, threaten… I tried compassion, empathy, bargaining, and taught him about the risks of post-op complications until my mouth had gone dry every single time I went in his room. He’d laugh, blow us off, say “maybe later”, or sometimes just refuse to speak altogether.

By the end of my third shift with him, his sisters had gone home to take a much-needed break. I totally understood as my own patience was wearing pretty thin too. At 6:00 pm, armed with last-ditch determination and a co-worker by my side, I entered his room, saying “Okay Adam. The time has come. Up you get, we’re going for a walk. You had your pain pills a half hour ago, so let’s do this!” His response, as predicted, was a yawn, a stretch, and a “Mmmm, maybe later.”

“No! No later.”

He started laughing which led me to doing the unthinkable.

I said, “Adam, if you don’t get up right now, I’m gonna start singing. I’m serious. You don’t want that.” My coworker, always a great team player, jumped in enthusiastically and told him, “Yeah! We’re gonna sing Ebony and Ivory!”

I think it was pretty fair that we gave him to the count of three to make his move. When that didn’t happen, we burst out singing as loudly as possible with “Ehhhh-bon-eeeee and Eye-vor-eeeee, live tooooo-getherrrrrr in puhhhhrrrr-fect har-monnn-eeeee!” Before we even got to the word ‘Ivory’, Adam had his hands out scrambling to sit on the edge of the bed and pleading, “No more! For the love of everything good, please stop singing! I’m getting up!” When the three of us got to the hallway, everyone was gathered around wondering why we laughing so hard!

Adam has done great with his transplant and comes to visit me at the hospital a few times a year. It’s great seeing him healthy and enjoying life! For some reason he always declines my offer to sing for him.

 

 

Author: awhitlow2

Murder can take a long time if you’re writing about it. My name is Ashleigh, and I’m a recovering next-timer… we’ll get together next time, I’ll call you next time, I’ll write about it next time, I’ll tell you I love you next time. Then reality hit (finally) that there may not be a next time and I was stunned. What?! We only get one shot at life? Really?! I’m also a recovering slow-learner. So in light of that realization that was over 40 years in the making, I’m writing my first novel- murder, love, redemption. I’m not sure what direction it will take but am enjoying the process and isn’t that what life’s all about anyway? More importantly, I’m living with gratitude for my family; God opened my eyes to the blessings of family and I’m thankful to Him and them for hanging in there with me all these years. (Did I mention I’m a slow-learner?) I’m a mother, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, a nurse, and a writer who LOVES to sing. Loudly. Badly. When no one else is around to hear it. Except the cat. Poor cat.

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