Mom was one of those people who helped. You know when Mr. Rodgers said, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’” Mr. Rodgers and his mother were talking about my mother.
It started when Mom was younger. She worked at a nursing home from the time she was 14 until she was in her late 30s. Then she went from nursing homes to home health, from home health to a nurse in a state prison. She watched her neighbors’ kids, her nieces and nephews, and bought her sister her graduation ring, just to name a few. Mom helped.
As a nurse for 28 years, Mom got a lot of phone calls. “What do I do for…”, “What should I take for…” “Do you think I should go to the emergency room?” One particular phone call happened while I was sitting across from her. “He shot what off?” That immediately got my attention. “Well no, he won’t bleed to death, but he does need to go to the emergency room, and you need to call the police.”
Who was not bleeding to death? What did he shoot off? Why did he shoot it off? After she hung up, Mom sighed and explained. “Judy was at her friend’s house and the friend and the husband got in a fight. He shot his ring finger off.” I asked her why he didn’t just take the ring off like a sane person. Apparently, he and the wife got tattoos instead of rings.
When we were kids, Mom stole my favorite blanket. It was for a good reason, but I’m still upset about it. The neighbor to the right of us had been beaten senseless and left in the yard. Mom ran out, ran back in, told us to call 911, and took my blanket to stop him from freezing. Once, our landlord, who lived to the left of us, was choking on an Arby’s roast beef sandwich. His friend called Mom, who took off barefoot across our yard to go give him the Heimlich. Mom also had to give my cousin Tevin the Heimlich because he was running with ham in his mouth on Thanksgiving. Let that be a lesson to you. On multiple occasions, she helped someone who passed out in public — even going as far as catching a woman who passed out in a restaurant.
She was a magnet for people who needed help. It was a running joke between my sisters and I that if you were in the car with Mom, be prepared to stop at an accident. The doctor she worked under at the prison made her a medical go-bag because it happened so often. I was with her on more than a few occasions.
Once I had just picked her up from a 16-hour shift at the prison. We were headed home and just as she took her shoes off, I noticed something odd on the horizon. I couldn’t quite figure out what it was and then it came into focus. Three semis were disfigured and discombobulated in the middle of a very busy intersection. I let out a curse and so did she. “Well pull over,” she said while shoving her shoes back on.
That wreck, Mom crawled up into one of the semis to help the driver because no one else could get to him. An officer stopped by my car and told me I might think about turning around in the grass divider. “I’m with the nurse,” I said. He gave me a nod and told me that I was going to be there a while. We were there about two hours before they got everything and everyone cleaned up and cleared out. The only thing she said when she got back in the car was, “I ruined my favorite scrub pants.” She kept in contact with the semi-driver until she died.
The last wreck I can remember stopping for was when we were on our way home after picking up Chinese food. It had been a very long day and both of us were starving. She was dozing in the passenger seat when a car ran a stop sign, t-boned a truck, and sent it flipping. It rolled around five times before it came to a stop. By the time it did, we were parked on the side of the road and Mom was running. We got home, got settled, and started eating. Mom laughed and when I asked her why she said, “We just saw a horrific car accident and you are unphased. You would have been a fantastic nurse.”
She’s right. I would have. But I’m glad I’m not.
When I was first thinking about what to do when I grew up (sometimes I still think about that), I toyed with nursing. And then Mom begged me not to. My nurse sister Trudy told me not to. My friend’s nurse mother told me not to. It seemed pretty clear that it was definitely not a path I should take. Nurses are helpers by nature and all that helping takes a lot out of someone. They don’t get paid nearly enough, are often times abused by their patients, and are worked until they drop.
Despite all that, my Mom would still tell you to help. Help those who can help themselves and those who can’t. But I’m telling you, remember to help the helpers because they need it the most.
Contact Carrie at: newsroom@news-banner.com
