It's no picnic being a professional in the medical field today. Sometimes their skilled tasks seem menial to others but more times than naught are thankless. While most know that sometimes all a patient needs is a hand to hold and a heart to understand, the 12- hour shifts, especially in the nursing profession, are taxing and their remuneration, regardless of pay, is rarely equitable. They're asked to administer medicines, clean accidents that commonly occur with the infirm and elderly, tolerantly heed the beckon of the patient, regardless of the most minor request, and to do it all errorless with a perpetual smile plastered across their faces while camouflaging the fatigue of overwork. Understanding that everyone deserves to be greeted with smiles, at times they struggle, understandably so, to achieve that goal.
 
As for the patient, let's face it. Our bodies are aging and, with crossing over into the elderly genre, chance of illnesses increase. In countless cases they require many months of rehabilitation. Years ago hospitals kept patients longer due to decreased ambulation or other problems. Today, that no longer applies. With the rising cost of hospital stays, insurance companies insist patients be moved to physical rehabilitation centers until that day when they're ready to resume life without professional assistance.

 

I've never met anyone who ever said they enjoyed being hospitalized and I'm no exception. My wife tells me no one hates it more than yours truly. There's not much to like when they wake you from a sound sleep in the middle of the night to take your blood pressure, check your oxygen level, stick a thermometer under your tongue or roll you down the hall to the scale room just for your weight. All this, or at least most of it, for the sole purpose of determining whether you're still living. Why can't they just ask? Regardless of my answer, they're know I'm alive.

 

I look back on it all and laugh. But when you're suddenly awakened from a idyllic dream on a South Pacific island starring bikini clad stars like Marilyn Monroe, Raquel Welch, Ann Margaret, and yourself as the one and only male, it’s no laughing matter. Who wants to be happy and congenial to the perpetrators at that ungodly hour in the morning? You return to slumber land trying to recreate the same dream but all you ever see is deejay vu of the 2000 Florida presidential chad count or some asinine replay of Jerry Springer.

 

As much as I joke about my stays in hospitals, nursing homes, rehabilitation centers, etc., I really am grateful. More times than I may care to admit, they've played an integral part in returning me to a healthy state where I could once again function as a productive member of society. I'm home now, but still on the road to recovery. It'll take time. With age comes the slowness of healing but I'm hoping to be back to full vitality soon. As for the gang at Pebble Creek Physical Rehabilitation Center on Jarvis Road in Green, I could not have asked for a better place or better people with whom to recuperate.

 

Their tolerance for my goofiness knows no bounds. You may recall my struggle to remember names and my penchant for creating my own bible of monikers. Pebble Creek was no exception. When I first entered I was greeted by "Wise Man," so named because he had one of Yule's three Wise Men's names, none of which I could ever keep straight. Maintenance had "Chuckles," "Swishy" and "Speedy." One of my nurses was The "Graceful One." Others were "Happy," "Needles," "Excuse Me" and "Oh Nurse!" Even administration was unable to escape my penchant for renaming. Among them were "Red," "Computer Gal" and "Water Girl." Among the many physical and occupational therapists were "Shifty," "No Nonsense," "Sandy Valley," "Trouble," "Double Trouble," "The D.I." and "Crane."

 

Their real names, not necessarily in order, may have been Ann, Sue, Mary, Darlene, Scott, Marcia, Denise, Becky, Charles, Steve, Christine, one of the original three wise men and quite a few others. Don't ask me which one is whom. I'm still working on them.

 

Regardless, all are part of a professional medical family dedicated to restoring the waning health in many of us. And whether or not civilians like me understand their methods, trust me, they do work. In the end, that's all that matters. After fifteen days at Pebble Creek, I'm convinced each and every one should be canonized now, …or at least beatified while they're still alive to enjoy it. Then again, perhaps, St. Shifty, St. Double Trouble or St. Crane just doesn't cut it.

 

Regardless, I've come away with a whole new respect for these dedicated professionals. I once thought I could do anything. But I could never do their jobs, and, in a tribute to their dedication, I tip my captain's hat.

 

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