As a child, I had random ideas of what I thought I should be when I grew up. At one point I wanted to be a radio disc jockey, then a veterinarian, then a court reporter, then an x-ray technician. I thought long and hard about being in the medical industry, maybe even a nurse. I was quite sure I had super-awesome caregiver skills.
My sophomore year of college I had a boyfriend (who shall remain unnamed for the sake of this story.) Actually, I am still friends with this boyfriend, and I take every opportunity to re-tell this story whenever we are together with a group of college friends. This always makes him very angry. Ok, unnamed boyfriend – If you’re reading this now – I’m sorry. Don’t break up with me again.
In between the fall and spring semesters, he became very sick. Both his parents worked, so I drove 4 hours to his house to take care of him. How hard could this be, right? This would just further prove to me that I would be the greatest nurse ever.
When I arrived, I evaluated his symptoms: high-fever, vomiting, swollen glands, lethargic. We made a doctor appointment and I confidently threw my sick patient in the car, and we headed off. The doctor told us that he suspected mononucleosis, and prescribed some kind of hard-to-pronounce medication to ease the symptoms. I explained to the doctor that because of his swollen glands, my patient couldn’t possibly swallow a pill. He nodded, he understood.
We headed straight to the pharmacy and I picked up the prescription, then drove my pitiful patient back to the house where I had planned to admire my caregiver skills further. But first, let’s administer our first dose of medication, shall we?
I pulled out the package and opened the first “pill.” The boyfriend’s eyes grew big:
Sick Boyfriend: There is NO way I can swallow that.
Awesome Me: This is a suppository. It goes up your butt.
Sick Boyfriend: That will not be happening.
I watched him moan and vomit for hours. My caregiver skills were being tested; because, quite frankly at this point I wasn’t feeling as caregiver-ish as I had a few hours earlier. He needed to shove-in that suppository because I was sick of his sickness. He repeatedly refused.
Later, I was in the kitchen, and he was walking through – towards the bathroom. The suppository was sitting on the counter, my patient was coming into close range – NOW WAS MY CHANCE.
In one quick ninja-like move, I swiped the suppository, whipped down his boxer shorts and SHAZAM! The mission was complete.
His fever was so high, that the suppository dissolved immediately upon entrance, but he still screamed like a little girl being chased on a playground by the school-yard bully.
I washed my hands over 837 times, but I still felt the horror of what happened. I prayed that God would deliver me from this awfulness. I was a conflicted caregiver. I felt disgusted by sickness and felt an overwhelming urge to leave to go shopping or something fun and happy. I was sick of vomit and suppositories. Suddenly, I saw bright white lights – 10 times brighter than the hottest white sun. God sent me a sign:
Don’t underestimate the power of a suppository to change the direction of your life.
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