Gifts

I was asked by my nursing director to write a two paragraph note describing how Brookwood hospital supported me through nursing school, and as I set to write my paragraphs it occurred to me that I was given an opportunity that is not available anymore. Opportunity is a funny thing in that most opportunities that we encounter are creatures of our own making. It is only rare that we are given an opportunity for which we are totally unprepared.

I was a young, unemployed new father seeking any form of employment when one of my wife's friends suggested I apply for a "scrub" job at two local hospitals. One hospital ignored me completely, but the education nurse for Brookwood's Woman's operating room saw a kid willing to try and she gave me the opportunity to learn how to act as a scrub technician. I knew nothing about the OR and had no clue what a "scrub tech" was, but I jumped into the opportunity with gusto. Here was a chance to see cool things, make money for my young wife and child, and prepare for my future medical career. After six months I was good enough to be considered as an educator of other prospective scrubs, and I learned that one out of ten of my students could make it. Most hospitals have stopped on-the-job training for this type of work because of the high failure rate for trainees, and the new "scrubs" I now meet have completed vocational training at some college or training school. I could not have one of the coolest nursing jobs ever today had that gift been given to me, and, as I wrote to my director, I will ever be grateful for all the help they gave me at Brookwood.

Another gift of which I became aware recently is the security sound health. After fighting depression for twenty-eight years I thought I was accustomed to my body sabotaging me, but last Wednesday found me in an even more difficult situation as I basically lost the use of my body for a short time for no obvious reason. Over the period of about five minutes I went from standing and helping a friend to being unable to lift my head, open my eyes, or even speak. This is even more strange as I was fully awake and aware of everything happening around me. I heard the voices trying to get me to answer, and the hands moving me onto a stretcher. I heard the panicked breathing of my nursing friends as they rushed the vibrating stretcher down the hall of the hospital to the ER, and yet there was little I could do. I felt like I was tightly wrapped in a warm blanket that I eventually loosened and regained the strength to which I was accustomed. I had words like "stroke" or "seizure" floating around me for a while as I slowly regained my ability to speak, but my doctor is calling it an atypical migraine for now, though I had no headache. I am going to be seeking a second opinion since this was a pretty big event for me, but losing all my voluntary movement for thirty minutes made me realize how much I take for granted. Now every twinge is questioned as the start of another event. I don't know exactly what to think of what I experienced last week, but I do know this- I have been much more lucky than I ever realized!