My dad is 73 years old. He is brilliant, adventuresome and very funny. Recently, he was in the hospital for a minor surgery. His post-op orders included wearing support stockings to minimize blood clotting in his legs. I’ll let him tell you the rest of the story…..
“When the nurse came into my room I was just beginning to feel normal after the sedation from my surgery. She was very winsome and it was apparent that she was beginning her first assignment since graduating from nursing school. After a little friendly banter she told me it was her job to get my legs into support stockings. She pulled two long stockings out of a small package and then began to put the first stocking on my left leg. It was a struggle, but after a few minutes she was able to pull it over my knee and half way up my thigh where it belonged. One down.
The second stocking seemed tighter going on. Perhaps my right leg was already a little swollen. She assured me these things happen but she would make sure we got it where it needed to be. Then, she began to pull the stocking with all her might trying to get it over my knee and up my thigh. It would move a little but it was not going on like the other one. She assured me this was not a problem. She said, “Just a little more elbow grease is all I need to get this stocking on you, Mr. Waters.”
“I liked her. She was cute and optimistic. And, I trusted her. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing. When the stocking finally got over my knee there was only about 5 more inches it needed to travel before it would be even with my other stocking. At this point, she decided maybe it would better to push the stocking up my leg rather than pulling it. I didn’t think anything was wrong with her plan. She adjusted her position to maximize her push potential. She was going to make this happen with sheer determination and grit. I was proud of her.
She pushed with all of her might and the stocking moved probably 3 inches. She wiped her brow and said it was almost there. And then, with great force, she pushed one final time …….and her hand slipped off the stocking and she punched me right in the testicles! I’m not lying. I thought I was going to die! I wanted to throw up. I was grimacing on the bed rolling around as much as a 73 year old man can roll around after just having surgery. She was so apologetic and embarrassed. When I could breathe again I told her it was not a problem. But even now telling this story I feel a little queasy.”
When my dad told me the story I cried from laughing so hard. It is pretty funny. But, is there a lesson we can learn in all of this? Just one comes to mind. The moral of the story is this: In life, trying really, really hard is important……..but don’t lose your grip on what you are supposed to be hanging on to. 🙂