One of the first things I had confirmed as a nurse was I didn’t know much. This was no surprise. In nursing school I had nightmares of being in left alone with no idea what to do. I was not disappointed. My first shift in charge, in the first room I went in, I found an unconscious, bloody patient on the floor. Rushing out, I braced myself against the door, forcing myself not to run. After a calming moment, I called out to an experienced nurse who knew just what to do. Totally unsettled, she took over. I was saved. Later, she even told me I did a good job. I am still grateful.

Not long after, I was getting a patient ready to go to surgery. I reached under her head to remove a tattered newspaper, assuming she had put it there in confusion. She grabbed my hand with a tight grip, whispering fiercely. “Leave it! That keeps the witches away!” I left it.

Her daughter arrived just as the surgical transport team rolled in. She was bidding her mother good luck as the team moved Mama to the stretcher. One of them reached for the ragged paper just as I had. The daughter shrieked. “Don’t touch it. It keeps the witches away!” She went to surgery with it. I was humbled to realize it held real meaning for them both. I knew nothing of their beliefs but learned they were valid.

It wasn’t long before I got another lesson. I was helping a colleague settle a restless patient after surgery. We changed her gown, whisked soiled bedding into a hamper, and tidied her up in general, thinking she’d be comforted. She became more agitated. Her daughter came in and was horrified. Where’s her prayer cloth? Did you lose Mama’s prayer cloth?” I could tell this was huge. We all got busy searching. The daughter found the prayer cloth on the floor. It was a six-by- six swatch of cotton fabric. It might have been torn from a sheet. I pinned the prayer cloth to her gown. Mama settled down. You can be sure I reported the importance of that prayer cloth to the oncoming shift. Who am I to know the source of comfort?

There all kinds of healing.