Brad and I haven't been in the hospital that long. A mere three days. Well, and I'm really only here from 10-10. And I'm not the one being treated.
Anyway, three days may not sound like that long (and, okay, I'll be honest--it isn't). But in terms of working shifts, three days translates into roughly nine nurses. Nine drastically disparate nurses. I have a bone to pick with a few of them. (Excuse the tactless pun.) But several nurses (such as our sweet Mary) merit some serious praise and respect.
Mostly for doing little things.
Like addressing the IV machine's incessant beeping instead of letting it go off every two minutes for hours.
And smiling instead of doling out dry crusties.
And bringing medicine when they say they will instead of an hour and a half later.
Sadly, my blog is private, so Mary will never read my gratitude (although I sang her praises in person plenty). And both Madonna and Maria will never know my frustration. Which is how I like it anyway.
As a side note, isn't it weird that all of these nurses have the same name?