At my place of work, we rotate weekends. So, every other Sunday I’m at the hospital getting my “nurse on.” This past Sunday I was be-boppin through a fairly steady morning, playing a little bit of desk clerk, charge nurse, floor nurse, and aide. I felt really “in the zone.” Like a graceful, yet epileptic swan to water, I was answering call lights, charting, and putting out miscellaneous fires when I got a call from our orthopedic surgeon. I know orthopedic surgeons aren’t exactly known for being incredibly kind and compassionate, but ours is a lot like Santa Clause if he joined a gym and spent a week on the beach. He is so super sweet. He also usually conducts a small service in the hospital chapel on sunday mornings. Here is basically how our conversation played out:
Doc: Hey! Little Karri who is charging today?
Me: Looks like you’re stuck with me, boss. What can I do for ya?
Doc: Oh great, listen Courtney, I really hate this but I need a huge really important favor…
Me: What do you got?
Doc: I just feel terrible but there is no way I can come to chapel today and its just so important… there are these two little ladies that come to chapel every single Sunday. Is there any way you can run down there at eleven and meet them? Let them know I just can’t make it today?
Me: Uh…. sure… yea, I can do that. Absolutely.
Doc: Oh thank you thank you… Hey listen, Karr…Kor…I mean Courtney. If you can, could you lead them in a quick prayer for our patients and staff?
Me silently: Yea right. When pigs fly.
Me aloud: I’ll see what I can do, Doc.
After hanging up I glance at the clock and see that is is eight minutes until eleven o’clock. Great, I have about five minutes to figure out how to get out of praying aloud, which to me, feels a bit like showering on stage. I know, I’ll ask one of the to do it first! Muahaha it’s the perfect evil plan!
When I arrive to the chapel, I find two of the cutest little ladies ever. They are decked out in their Sunday dresses and matching hats and oh, so happy to see my disheveled self grace the doorway, complete with dirty scrubs and a sloppy ponytail.
I relay the message I was charged with and then made a fatal mistake in my grand plan. I paused.
Those ol’ gals are pretty darn quick on the draw. They saw opportunity and snatched it like the last roll at the dinner table. They looked at me with big, glassy eyes peeping out from wrinkled-paper-sack-looking faces and genuinely as can be, asked me if I would lead them in a word of prayer. I took in a big breath with every intention of politely declining and suddenly heard, in my own voice, a quivering “okay.” Then, after a long pause, I stumbed through an eternity of the choppiest, most awkward prayer ever delivered. I was literally sweating like a you-know-what in church. I am such a sucker for old people. If I ever get locked up for murder, I want everyone to know that an old lady probably asked me to do it. Ultimately, I don’t guess it hurt me even though it was the hardest thing I did all day. Either they really appreciated it, or two blue haired ladies had something to giggle about over their Sunday dinner. Either way, maybe I made someone smile that morning.