I was hospitalized a while ago at a different facility, and a family, whom I shall blog about separately, departed. About 3:00 am, a new tenant arrived who had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, allergies and asthma. She was desperately ill, and the staff took care of her most of the night.
By morning, we had become acquainted. She is from a neighboring city and a fascinating and lovely woman. She is middle-aged, a religious woman, the mother of a family.
By mid-morning, we had become fast friends. She did me a kindness when it came dinner time. She actually got up out of bed and came where I was, bed-bound and unable to walk. She came over a few steps, found my food for me and helped me start eating.
The next day, we continued our friendship and at dinner time, she said, “You know I had ice cream and cake for dinner, but it didn’t satisfy me. Have you got anything?” I said, “Yes! Some people brought chocolate kisses and I have Werthers.” She said, “I’ll come over,” and she did. She picked up a handful of candy and started to eat it. She was leaning against the wall opposite me, where I could see her. The television was a few degrees away, but I was not watching it. I was watching her.
I suddenly noticed she was starting to slump. We have machines in hospitals for calling nurses and aides, but they work slowly. By the time someone notices a signal and finishes with another patient, minutes can go by, a quarter of an hour can go by. It wasn’t going to work just to push the button, so I took a deep breath and I started yelling “Help.” Four times I yelled “Help,” and she continued to slump.
We were near an open door and a hallway, and someone came and grabbed her around the middle, like a sack of sugar, and we saved her from falling and crashing her head. Later, we learned she did have these black-out episodes and it could have been serious. I was so pleased that I was able to do a little favor for my new friend.
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