The highlight of any hospital stay was when my mom came to visit. She usually arrived early in the morning and stayed until the overhead announcement declared, “Visiting hours are over.”
During those visits, Mom would read to me. One time, when she ran out of my usual books, she read a story from Reader’s Digest. The story was too complex for me to follow—or maybe I was just too hyped up on all the medicines I was taking for my asthma—and I had trouble paying attention.
Still, I loved hearing Mom’s voice. It was almost as therapeutic as Sus-Phrine, that asthma medicine I relied on. There was something soothing about her reading that relaxed me in a way nothing else could. I treasured those moments and wished she had read to me more often.
But in our busy household, the only times I really remember her reading were in the doctor’s waiting room or when I was in the hospital bed. I’ll take those memories wherever I can get them.
One day, when I was eleven, Mom had just left, and a young respiratory therapist named Star came into my room. She was really nice, probably because she actually paid attention to me.
Star would sit on the edge of my bed and watch TV with me. I remember one time we landed on a program showing naked Aboriginal people. I started to change the channel, but Star told me to leave it on.
I wasn’t interested in learning about them—I was too busy laughing. She gently scolded me for laughing, but I didn’t mean to. I was just giddy, probably from all the meds.
The next day, Mom brought my brothers to visit, but she had to take them home soon after. Once Mom left, I went to look out the window. That’s when Star came back in. She gave me my treatment and said, “Let’s play some cards.”
Mom had left a deck of cards on my table, and although I don’t remember which game we played, Star stayed with me for quite a while. It was so nice to have someone pay attention like that. I was happy to have a therapist who helped pass the time.
But then an overhead page came, and Star had to rush out. Still, those moments meant a lot.
Sixteen years later, when I was hired at Memorial Medical Center in Ludington as a respiratory therapist, Star became my co-worker. She would later tell me I had been a very excitable kid.
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