Storytelling

Nurse’s Lessons: Cultural Awareness and Patient Care in Nursing

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.

Louie Figures It Out

One proud day, Louie acquired a bedraggled, old gray mule. The poor beast had obviously been”rode hard and put up wet.” It was tormented by flies, particularly in spots where harness had rubbed. Nonetheless, Louie was enamored of the sad beast pastured in his brother Don’s empty cow lot adjacent to our barn. The lot had gnawed down to the last blade of grass by its previous occupants. The only amenity available to the mule was a half barrel of water. Don and Louie spent some time spraying the mule for flies, which had to be a relief. Don went about his business assuring Louie they’d get old gray some hay tomorrow. A seed was planted.

Old Gray ate all the grass he could reach through the fence. Louie spent the rest of the afternoon pulling grass and delivering it by the handful to the grateful mule. Even Boogereater and Jamie got caught up in the exercise for a while.

About dusk, Daddy came home and scattered out hay for his stock and went on his busy way. Remembering Don’s intentions, Louie opened his cow pen gate and turned Old Gray into Daddy’s feed lot to get at the hay. Delighted at the opportunity to chow down, Old Gray kicked at Daddy’s cows to get them out of his way. Daddy heard the ruckus and came hurrying back, only to find his cows scattered and Old Gray munching happily.

Daddy shouted at Louie.” Get that mule out of here. He’s gonna hurt my cows!” He handed Louie a block of hay to toll the mule out and waved a stick at Old Gray. Reluctantly, Old Gray allowed himself to be led back into Don’s cow lot. Glad to have settled that problem, Daddy secured his own gate and went about his business

Louie was not to be denied that easily. He scooped up a generous portion of Daddy’s hay and tossed it over the fence to Old Gray. The happy mule tore into it with enthusiasm. It had probably been a long time since he’d such a rich meal. Satisfied with his day’s work, Louie went home for his own supper.

The next day when Daddy went out to throw hay to his cows, he found Louie and Old Gray waiting for him. The scattered remains of yesterday’s hay lay about them on the ground. Daddy warned Louie not to let Old Gray in his pasture.

Louie waited patiently for Daddy to put out the hay before climbing over the fence. “Louie, don’t be climbing my fence. You’ll tear it up. What in the hell are you doing?”

Louie scooped up a few blocks of hay and tossed them over the fence to Old Gray. “Old Gray ain’t got no hay. You don’t care Old Gray have hay?”

Daddy knew he wasn’t going to win this round. “Oh hell no, man! That’s what I bought it for.”

Louie Gets Help Part 2

Boogereater’s mama scooped up her wormy-looking five-year-old and hefted herself into the front seat of Mother’s car. Though they were neighbors, the two women had never been friends. Mrs. Rick was a wild-haired harridan whose dirty children ran wild until long after dark and caused general turmoil in the neighborhood by leaving water-hoses running, gates open, and throwing rocks at cars. Boogerseater’s older brother had even been caught stealing cigarettes out of one house. Mrs. Rick’s attitude implied Mother had been negligent in allowing Boogereater access to her gas tank.

Furthermore, Mother was furious at having to leave her toddler out of pocket to take them to the doctor. The three miles to town seemed endless as Mother fretted over her misplaced baby. After a lifetime, they reached the doctor’s office. Mrs. Rick unloaded her floppy boy, rushing in. She didn’t even close the car door behind herself, leaving Mother to get out and close it, wasting even more time.

Naturally, Mother made a bee-line for home, very nearly speeding a time or two. A very timid driver, she never exceeded twenty-five miles per hour. Vacillating between fury and preparatory grief, she was held up by a train of sixty-seven cars about a quarter of a mile from home.

After a lifetime, she pulled into her driveway to be met by Louie and a bevy of neighborhood kids. The kids rushed up to the car, demanding to know “Is he dead? Is he dead?”

She had to work her way around Louie, who stood his ground. “Boy’s done dead.” He pronounced,making it clear he had the situation under control.

Once in the house, she found a frustrated Freddie May trying to pacify Connie who was bawling her eyes out for her mama. Sally was impatiently rocking the shrieking infant, Marilyn, who had been awakened during the melee. The women fled after informing Mother Connie had found sleeping on the floor where she’d wallowed her pillow off the side of the bed.

The story had a interesting ending. Boogerhead roused up about the time he got to the doctor, apparently no harm done. Daddy got a bill from the doctor about a week later. They didn’t pay it.

Louie Gets Help

Louie’s brother and family lived directly across the dusty road from him, probably his only social contacts other than his mother. That sultry August afternoon, Mother put her seventeen-month-old, Connie, down for a nap, flanked by a pillow on each side, on the big bed in her own bedroom for a nap before scooping up her colicky newborn, Marilyn, to feed and rock. It was so hot she could hardly catch her breath. The only hope of a cooling breeze was the rocker in front of the bedroom window. The attic fan pulled a breeze through that window. Mother could her two of her older children playing in the sand under the window. Periodically, the attic fan would pull in a bit of dust and Mother had to make a decision whether she’d rather endure the occasional dust spray or call out the kids and wake the cranky baby who was just drifting off. Carefully, she eased the sleeping baby into her crib without waking her, optimistically hoping she could slip in bed next to the sleeping Connie and catch a little nap. Tiptoeing out she told Phyllis, her oldest to keep an eye on me and Bill and slipped quietly in next to Connie.

Her own breathing slowed and she was almost asleep when she got the creepy feeling someone was looking at her. She jerked awake to see Louie standing in her bedroom door, staring at her. She hopped up, horrified and furious. She squeaked hoarsely. “Louie! What are you doing in here? I’ve told you not to come in my house!” It turned out Phyllis had forgotten to latch the screen when she came back in.

“Boogereater done dead.” Louie pronounced in a monotone. Boogereater had gotten his name for obvious reasons.

Confused, Mother shooed him out angrily and latched the screen just as couple of neighbor ladies showed up at her door.

“Junior, (Boogereater’s proper name) is passed out or maybe dead! He took the gas cap off your car and sniffed. He’s laying out by your car.”

Mystified, Mother followed the women out. Sure enough the boy was lying by her car, flaccid and pale with blue lips. He sure looked dead!

Just then, Boogereater’s mama rushed up and grabbed her lifeless boy. “Somebody’s got to take him to the doctor!” She looked fiercely at Mother. “You got to take him!”

Louie interjected.”Boy’s done dead.”

Withering under the accusing eyes of the presumed dead boy’s mother. Mother offered feebly. “ I can’t go. Both my babies are asleep!”

Boogereater’s Mama stared her down, pronouncing, “It was your gas he sniffed.”

Mother has always had a gift for feeling guilty.

Boogereater’s mama glared at her. “Sally and Freddie May can watched your youngun’s. You the only one with a car. Go git your keys! I’ll put him in the car.”

Defeated, Mother went to get her purse and keys. Sally and Freddie May followed her in. As she headed out, she peaked in on her sleeping babies. Marilyn was fine, but Connie was missing.

“I can’t go. My baby’s missing! She was right here on the bed! We were taking a nap!” She wailed. “ I can’t go! My car might not even start.” Mother insisted.

“ That baby ain’t got out! Them women can find her while we’re gone.” demanded the boy’s mother, hard on her heels.

Checking the back door and finding it still latched, Mother turned on Phyllis, reading just outside the bedroom. “Did Connie slip out past you?”

“No ma’am. I’ve been sitiing here the whole time she’s got to be in the house. I’ll find her.” Phyllis was dependable.

Guilt-ridden and bullied, Mother grabbed her things and rushed to the car. Sadly for her, the car started on the first crank.

Louie watched as Mother backed out. “Boy done dead.” He pronounced.

That was the beginning of Boogereater’s gas sniffing.

More to come.

Grandma J

Knowing Grandma J was a pure pleasure. Having spent fifty years on an isolated Kansas farm, she truly enjoyed her cushy life in town with a gas stove, refrigerator, and wringer washing machine. She’d raised eight wild boys and three girls. Though she’d lost a young baby early in her marriage, it had been so long she no longer mourned. She’d been widowed many years by the time I knew her, and was well- satisfied in her neat little house in town. Should one of her many children not come by, she could walk to the store, beauty parlor, or church. She had neighbors in or went to their kitchens for coffee.

Though she was built like a refrigerator on spindly legs, she was a very attractive lady. She always dressed in floral cotton dresses with a freshly-ironed apron tied around her waist. Her silvery hair was always softly curled. Should she be going out on a windy day, it was ensconced in a hairnet for summer or scarf for wind or cold. Before Grandma went out, she always donned a freshly ironed housedress and good apron, both of her own making. She always picked up her big black purse last thing before heading out the door.

She still adhered to many lifelong habits: washing on Monday, ironing on Tuesday, and baking bread and pies on Friday. It would have been a rare weekend to not have some of her huge family or to visit in their homes.

As you might expect, her house was filled with beautiful hand-made items, quilts, rag rugs, doilies, and embroidered dresser scarves, napkins, and tablecloths. We still have a pair of crocheted trivets she made us for a wedding gift fifty-three years ago.

As you can see, they are well-loved.

Grandpa and the Corn Thief

Grandpa J was a mighty man. Though of average height, a lifetime of farming and good genes he was barrel-chested with the arms of a blacksmith. A man to be reckoned with, he didn’t tolerate fools lightly. It was unlikely any of his neighbors would have wanted to tangle with him, so he was mystified to find someone had been slipping in and stealing corn from his corncrib at night, but it was the depression and times were hard.

Determined to put a stop to the theft, Grandpa and his son,Frank, made their way to the shed well before daylight, Frank carrying a shuttered lantern. Grandpa whispered, “When I open the door, open the shutter.”

Sure enough, when Grandpa flung open the door, the lantern revealed the thief. A half-grown white-face yearling stared blindly at them. Reacting instinctively, Grandpa hit the surprised bovine between the eyes, knocking him out.

Grandpa jumped back, cursing and cradling the fist he’d just pounded into the unconscious yearling’s bony head. Enjoying the story later, one of the family asked Frank, “Did you laugh?”

“Hell no!” He replied. “ He still had one good fist.!”

Children’s Biblical Misunderstandings

In the first book of the bible, Guinessis, God got tired of creating the world, so he took the Sabbath off.

Adam & Eve were created from an apple tree.

Noah’s wife was called Joan of Ark.

Noah built the ark, which the animals came on in pears.

Lot’s wife was a pillar of salt by day, but a ball of fire by night.

The Jews were a proud people and throughout history they had trouble with unsympathetic Genitals.

Sampson was a strongman who let himself be led astray by a jezebel like Delilah.

Sampson slated the Philistines with the axe of apostles.

Moses led the Hebrews to the Red Sea, where they made unleavened bread, which is bread made without any ingredients.

The Egyptians were all drowned in the dessert.

Afterward, Moses went up on Mount Cyanide to get the Ten Amendments.

The first commandment was when Eve told Adam to eat the apple.

The Fifth Commandment is humor thy mother and father.

The Seventh Commandment is thou shalt not admit adultery.

Moses died before he ever reached the UK. Then, Joshua led the Hebrews in the Battle of Geritol.

The greatest miracle in the Bible is when Joshua told his son to stand still and he obeyed him.

David was a Hebrew king skilled at playing the liar. He fought with the Finkelsteins, a race of people who lived in the biblical times.

Solomon, one of David’s sons, has 300 wives and 700 porcupines.

When Mary heard that she was the Mother of Jesus, she sang the Magna Carta.

When the three wise guys from the East Side arrived, they found Jesus and the manager.

Jesus was born because Mary had an emaculate contraption.

St. John, the Blacksmith, dumped water on his head.

Jesus enunciated the Golden Rule, which says to do one to others before they do one to you.

He also explained, “Man doth not live by sweat alone.”

The people who followed the Lord were called the 12 decibels.

The epistles were the wives of the apostles.

One of the opossums was St. Matthew, who was by profession a taximan.

St. Paul cavorted to Christianity. He preached holy acrimony, which is another name for marriage.

A Christian should have only one wife. This is called monotony.

Sunday School

A Sunday school teacher was discussing the Ten Commandments with her class. After explaining the commandment to ‘Honor thy father and thy mother,’ she asked, ‘Is there a commandment that teaches us how to treat our brothers and sisters?’
Without missing a beat, a six-year-old boy answered, ‘Thou shall not kill..’

That would look good on my buffet!

A friend made this video of my mother for her 96th birthday celebration. Mother was ecstatic. Please check my friend’s facebook site and support her.

Making an Ass of Myself at a Funeral

On the ride out to our old neighbor’s funeral, Billy told me about “a friend” of his who had embarrassed himself in the drive-through line of a hamburger joint earlier that week.  The “friend” had gotten stuck in line, right next to the speaker.  He called out several times with no response.  He was wedged in.  It was hot.  He was hotter! He couldn’t order, go backward or forward, so did the only reasonable thing.  He cursed loudly about waiting in the heat, abusing the reputation of the restaurant, the employees, their forbears, and hamburgers joints in general, pounding his steering wheel to make a point!

After a bit of this infantile behavior, the speaker clicked on.  “May I take your order, please?”  Relieved, he gave his order and pulled up.  When he got to the window, he found a sea of faces waiting to see the idiot they’d heard throwing the fit.  The speaker had been on the whole time.

He finished his story just as we squeaked into the churchyard.  We filed in with the mourners, taking a seat.  As the services started, it was pretty warm.  Before long, it was hot as Hades. Obviously the air conditioner was on the blink.  Billy grinned and whispered to me, “It’s hot.”  Remembering his ‘friend’, I stifled a giggle.  As the eulogy continued and mourners sniffled, I struggled to maintain my composure, not daring to look at him.  We were both shaking silently, as though overcome by grief.  The blazing heat miraculously unstopped my sinuses.  Suddenly, a river of snot cascaded from my nose as I burst into maniacal laughter.  Vainly, I instituted an ineffective snot management manuever while futilely trying to give the impression of being overcome by grief, not insane laughter. It might have been more convincing had brother, Bozo the Clown, not been beside me in the same state. We fled without trying to console the family, figuring we’d done enough.