Having reached my present age, I have spent much of my allotted time in hospitals, even working in the laboratory of one for several years. However, not often have I been really sick in one, usually just babies or minor surgeries. The times I have been really ill or had major surgery have been few, I am happy to say.
Last week was an exception when I was knocked down by an infection requiring intravenous antibiotics and a great deal of patience on the part of those attending the patient. I have just taken my last oral antibiotic; and, though still shaky, I think I have turned a corner.
I am grateful to my three daughters, who rallied round their mother with all kinds of help. As the song says, “Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.”
As I write this, I am in the beautiful mountains of Tennessee, where my eldest has whisked me for a good dose of recuperation. Sitting here, I can look out the window at a smooth stretch of green grass and trees that leads to a cliff with a beautiful view down to the valley. Soon I plan to be able to walk over to that ridge and enjoy the view. The surroundings themselves are restorative; and I am touched by many kindnesses. I am still shaky, but I feel pampered and strengthened, and I am grateful to each daughter and family for their help. That goes for attentive friends, too.
But I did not start this article to compliment my own kin or friends. I would like to heap praises on the third-floor nurses who attended me at Baptist Memorial Hospital-Golden Triangle. They were superb, the essence of what a nurse should be. I thought of writing to the hospital administrator, but was told I would get a questionnaire, anyway.
Nevertheless, I want to broadcast as far as my little column will reach, the good news of what wonderful nurses we have in our vicinity. It has not always been that way. At one time I told my family if they ever found me in that hospital to get me out of there as fast as they could. Frankly we had had some awful experiences there.
A new day has dawned, however. You could not ask for better nursing care. Care is the key word. They really seem to “care.” Calls are answered immediately. No waiting and waiting and pleading for assistance.
The nurses are really the face of the hospital. I saw the hospitalist doctor only once, but that was enough for him to order tests and prescribe medicine. The nurses did the rest.
I do not know if these nurses read the local paper, either printed or online. They seem to have very busy lives. But, please, if you know any and you read this column, pass it on, or at least refer it to them; I would like for them, and anyone else who reads it, to know how at least one patient appreciates them greatly.
Betty Boyls Stone is a freelance writer, who grew up in and lives in Columbus.
The Dispatch Editorial Board is made up of publisher Peter Imes, columnist Slim Smith, managing editor Zack Plair and senior newsroom staff.
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