SOLSC '19 Day Twenty-six: The kindness of earthbound angels

I wrote a post this past weekend promoting scrubs for teacher workwear.  It struck a chord, because I got a lot of supportive comments.  But lest I offend those who are lucky enough to already wear scrubs to work...here are some words of affirmation for the earthbound angels who have crossed my path and marked me with their kindness and compassion.  

These are the nurses that have my heart:

The nurses from labor and delivery, who faxed a request downtown every Friday for nine weeks asking for updates on their 26 weeker, and wanted to see their miracle baby on our way home from the NICU downtown.  We gladly obliged.

The NICU nurses, so gentle with our daughter in the isolette, loving on her with extra cuddles when she graduated to a crib.  A couple even babysat her when she came home, spoiling her even more.  One has become an honorary aunt in our family.  We spoiled them with cookies, and many, many thanks.

My husband's niece, a PICU nurse who told us to bypass the ER at the hospital and come on up to her floor after our daughter projectile vomited across my father-in-law's kitchen, 1400 miles from home.  It took the doctor just minutes to diagnose a double ear infection.  My daughter felt better by the end of the trip, thanks to her cousin's care.

I count even more NICU nurses among workmates, during my years as a unit assistant and desk clerk in the same space my daughter occupied before.  They accepted me as a colleague, and appreciated my perspective as a former preemie parent.  I was honored to be in their presence almost every weekend for three years.

A special nurse, Seel, worked at our birth hospital.  I'm not even sure how her name is spelled.  In labor with my secondborn, four-and-a-half-years after the first, I called L&D and heard,"Did you say your last name is Margocs?  You wouldn't happen to be Gaby's mom, would you?'  
"Yes," I replied.  
"Honey, this is Seel.  Please tell me you are past 27 weeks this time!"  
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, "they've got me at 37 weeks."  
"Then you get your hiney in here, we'll take care of you!"  And take care of me they did, through a delivery complicated by HELLP syndrome and followed by strict bedrest in the hospital.

Patty, my mother's home health nurse, will always hold a special place in my heart.  She took care of my mother's health and emotional needs.  Skilled at tracheotomy and wound care, she also scheduled my mother's haircuts and made sure her nail polish and earrings matched her nightgowns.  Even my father's coffee and vitamins were laid out and ready for him in the morning.  When my mother had to be taken to the hospital to end her life support, Patty insisted on accompanying her in the ambulance, to say her final goodbyes at her bedside.  A nurse willing to stand at death's door with her patient, Patty was no mere guardian; she was an Archangel in scrubs.

I'm sure there have been more--school nurses, hospital nurses from my childhood and that of my children that fail to come to mind.  But I am thankful for their care, nonetheless.  Scrubs are the uniforms of angels; I'm not sure my work makes me worthy of the garb.