Florence Nightengale, Where Are You?

Bandaids make it all better.

Thermometers can help your temperature.

Kisses and a cool cloth for your forehead.

That kind of nursing I get. I can do that. I've done it for all my children. Soothing words, a gentle stroke of the hair and Mommy makes it all better.

Unfortunately, recovering surgery patients need a little more than that.

Equally unfortunately, I have nothing else to give.

Oh, I try. But when my husband was in the hospital, I don't think I actually made things any easier. For one thing, there's not a lot of room to move around, and I'm not a model of grace. I stepped forward to help him, and drove the bedside table literally into the side of the bed. Then when I tried to move the bedside table out of the way, it kept getting stuck on something under the bed.

Terry asked me to raise his bed a little bit. I hit the wrong button and instead of raising his head, his feet when flying up in the air.

I took his hand to help raise him up, but I caught hold of his IV instead.

I gave him a pain pill and then held his cup so he could sip through the straw. But I tipped the cup the wrong way, and he couldn't get any liquid in order to swallow the pill.

I knocked his cup over and spilled ice all over his tray. And a little on him.

As I mourned my lack of ability to a friend, she assured me that Terry would still have a quick recovery. I felt relieved until she added, "If for no other reason than self-preservation."

I think I need a bigger bandaid.