March 14, 2013
Thanks to the drugs, I’ve managed to eat enough this week to schedule my glucose tolerance test for tomorrow. Since I’ll be doing that in the lab just downstairs from the clinic, I was hoping I could get a B6 injection around 11 tomorrow, after I’d finished the test. No such luck. So I got one after work today instead.
The nurse who saw me today is, well, old. As we were walking back to the “vitals room”, she asked when my last injection had been. When I told her it was Tuesday, she gave me a look that clearly said I was back too soon. I explained that I’d been hoping to get one on Friday, but there were no appointments available. She started to grumble about how she would have been happy to squeeze me in on Friday if the scheduler had only asked and then stopped herself. “No, I’m not even going to get started.”
It was around then that I read her name badge. Rose. Or rather Sr Rose. Sister. A member of the Congregation of St Joseph, I expect, an order of wonderful women dedicated to service. Yes, she definitely would have found a way to see me on Friday.
This is why I haven’t been able to give up my Catholic identity yet. The Church drives me nuts. The Curia and the Hierarchy. But then there are people like the CSJs or my Jesuit professors when I was in college or the pastor and associate pastor at our parish when I was a child, the people who are what Catholicism should be. Yes, one of the other nurses probably would have reacted the same way as Sr Rose because nurses tend to be like that, but it seemed appropriate that it was a woman who belonged to the order that used to run the hospital who was upset on my behalf with the fact that I had to come in a day too early.