Chatterbox: Praise where it is due

There are many things that merit accolades. Some we overlook as being simply expected. For the most fortunate among us, that could be the care of dedicated medical staff. In America, good health care costs, and good healthcare costs as well. The former is more understandable than the latter. Good healthcare should be a given American perk, and to that end we should all continue working.
To those fortunate enough to have access to it, good health care and the practitioners there of, is nothing short of glorious. The dedication of trained professionals who focused their energy, applied their intellect, time and diligence, is impressive and an imperative from which patients benefit immeasurably.
There are few feelings in the world like being, or having someone we love, ill or injured. We feel helpless, especially when the case is, or could become, truly serious. The situation leaves us frightened, vulnerable and, almost always, without the knowledge of what’s wrong. These are the conditions under which most medical professionals find us, and the pressure under which they must work … and deal with our emotions as well.
It’s an interesting mental switch that is triggered when we get wheeled into an emergency room and surrender to the professionals. Usually, and suddenly, we’re completely submissive and relieved to be so. We breathe and let those who know or who will most likely discern what’s going on, do the thing they have trained for years to do. We give ourselves and our destiny over to their expertise. It’s still scary, but we’re more relieved than anything else.
Personally, I have always held nurses in very high regard and when my older cousin went to college to become a nurse, my alter-ego went with her. Our family was so proud. Our parents were first generation Americans watching their children becoming lawyers, doctors, nurses and professors. Even today, a recognizable greatness about our country is that it does still seem to only take one generation for the full immersion of new Americans and for their assimilation into the American dream of college and/or a chosen profession. It’s one of the biggest reasons this nation remains so beloved.
Recently, some medical treatment and several unexpected (are there any other kind?) trips to the emergency room have done nothing but reinforce my own personal feeling of arriving at Emerald City when I hear those words, “Name and date of birth, please.” Just knowing that, now, we’re out of danger and in the hands of the pros and that all will be as well as it can be, allows us to relax. Answer the questions, and let the professionals take your safety into their knowledgeable care. It really does induce a feeling of complete calm and justified submission.

Doctors and nurses are way up on the list of people who breach the stratosphere where the angels sing. Pardon me if I wax poetic, but any of us who has faced a true health crisis can get emotional about those who know what to do for us when we’re in a critical situation. After all, it’s their devotion to training and their compassion that renders us physical and emotional comfort.
Quality professionals, with few exceptions, are compassionate and thorough and work with grace under pressure. We’re reassured just knowing they’ll do their best to keep us safe. They set us at ease while they do what they can to ensure our recovery. We’re blessed when we can have full confidence in these mere mortals who create this safe place for us to collapse into.
If we live in an area where our medical services are of measurable quality, we’re blessed, and we need to commend our professionals. It’s always appropriate and welcomed if we send a note to their administration, commenting on their care and efficiency, or a gift of goodies to their station. If the hospital isn’t privately owned, a donation is lovely. If we don’t know our caretakers’ names, we can include the date and time of our treatment on the check; the recognition is priceless. The amount is less consequential, though we should do our best.
My cousin, to whom I speak often, is retired now, but is still, in her heart, a nurse. Her knowledge is obvious and her willingness to help is impressive whenever privy to any ills of our many, and now aging, family members. These professionals, who lead with their hearts, never really retire; they just stop getting paid.
In an environment that’s so critical, it’s a privilege to acknowledge them.

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