On the staff

 The staff in Fredericton were very warm and skilled. Then again, I might have been on a higher level of medication and therefore more mellow. Two incidents stand out. 

One night, I pushed the buzzer for help. The intercom asked what the issue was? “I am having a panic attack.” The patient attendant came in, held my hand and soothed me as the waves of anxiety receded. “You’ll get through this.”

The other was a few nights later when I needed a drink in the middle of the night. The patient attendant offered a mocktail of cranberry juice, orange juice and ginger ale. That was such a treat.

Owing to size and the fact it is a teaching hospital, the Montreal General Hospital’s staff is much more variable. Some of them are only just learning their trade and a rare few have attitudes that would get them reprimanded were I in charge. 

Some are great. Arguably the best is an older African-Canadian woman called Nancy. She came in one night to help another patient attendant deal with one of my bowel movements. She had a gentle but firm hand which could turn me right or left with minimum pain. Afterwards, I said: “Thank you, ma’am” out of genuine thanks and respect. “I have never earned enough to be a ma’am. Please call just call me Nancy,” was her reply. There was a weary, worldly wisdom in that reply which I have been unable to fully interpret.

Another great one is a Haitian woman whom my cousin Michael observed had a deft, healer’s touch. Her gentle, capable hands changed my dressings quickly and painlessly.

A middling capable but amusing personal attendant is a large, squat African-Canadian man whose care I have been under a few times. The last time I noticed his worn brown scrubs had the word “Maimonides” on it. I asked if he also worked for the Maimonides Geriatric Centre in Côte Saint-Luc. He was a bit taken-aback by the question, but once I revealed that I worked for the Library, he was happy to say yes. And of course say nice things about the Library.