The Visiting Nurse

This was a new nurse from the VA visiting with me. And

at the get-go I informed her, I don’t know what you may
have been told by the last nurse who was taking care of
me, however, I think you should hear it directly from me.
I need hip surgery, but I’d rather endure the pain. No in-
invasive operations for me.

And see that DNR order on the fridge. No life saving
measures either should they be needed to revive me.
As far as I’m concerned, you’re here only to meet the
requirements for me to keep receiving my meds. Simple
as that, no hospitals and nursing homes for me. Seems
that happens all too often with others including my dad
and brother before they died.

I smoke about ten cigarettes a day. Don’t drink alcohol
anymore. Probably be dead by now if I did. Besides, I
need to be able to care of my dogs.

I’m seventy-three and have no desire to live into my
eighties or nineties with the onset of more maladies
and demented loss of memory. And that about sums
it up for me. Otherwise, as I see it, leave me be, and
may I rest in peace.

After the temperature and pulse rate were taken, after
the blood pressure was checked, standing and sitting,
after the cold end of the stethoscope was pressed to my
chest, the abdomen, and run up, down and around the
back, (now take a deep breath), after the feet and toes
were probed with latex-gloved fingers, the nurse penned
in the results on her report.

All is pretty good, the nurse told the me in an emotion-
less professional tone. Looks as if you’ll live another day.
No offense intended, I told her in an unabashed moment
of candor, but hellfire, even without all this fuss, I could
have told you that.

                                 -30-

Chris Hanch 2-21-2020