Designs of the Heart

Florence Nightingale was a person I read about in school. Though I was very much impressed by her service, I was aware of the fact that in the modern world such a creation is a very rare commodity as far as human material is concerned. As a child, I failed to realize that I was in fact growing up with a person akin to the Nightingale, here in my own homeland.   My Nightingale’s warfront was her own work place where she relentlessly did her duty as a nurse and as a human being.

             Being a government employee, she was always posted in different government hospitals, the conditions of which are familiar to all Indians. Yet, she never complained about them. Within the given parameters, she did her work to the best of her ability.

 I remember, once I had gone to her for a blood test. In those days, disposable syringes were not much in use. So, she had to put in an extra effort with the needle, as it was a blunt one. Then she gave a wonderfully warm and relieved smile and asked me very caringly, “Did it hurt?” There were many occasions when I forgot to express condolence to those who lost their near and dear ones. In comparison here is a human being, an angel in disguise, who doesn’t forget to ask if the needle prick was painful.

            Most of the time we would find her in the ‘Acute Intensive care unit’ where most of her patients were with pre- reserved ticket to Heaven and if by chance any one of them left for the final destination, a pall of gloom descended not only on the relatives of the patient but also on our dear nightingale. If we found her sad on a particular day we could easily guess the situation in her ward.

            She would always sense the condition of her patients even before it was clinically proven. When my mother was seriously ill, she was always there by her side, assuring us of her constant support. Even at midnight when we ran to inform her of my mother’s deteriorating condition, we found her knelt in prayer. Without doubt, I can say that many of her patients have experienced this prayer-filled assurance from her.

             As children we would often say she also had a magic touch. Whenever we were sick, my mother would always seek her help and I am convinced that, more than her medications it was her loving touch and reassuring words that healed us better. The icing on the cake was when I heard my son repeating the same and here is another generation availing this togetherness with her.

            She was befittingly conferred with the ‘best nurse’ award before her retirement. Unlike many of the self-crowned heroes, she still reaches out to those in pain. There are no colourful medallions decorating her house but her heart is illumined by the satisfaction she gets, while soothing the pain of the sick and the prayers of gratitude that silently leap out from the hearts of those who have felt her touch. I join all her patients who reminiscence her care with gratitude in their hearts.

            It is up to us now to increase her tribe and continue her tradition of leading a life of service and total dedication. The care and concern that she showed towards those in pain is a quality that is fast diminishing from human hearts. Let posterity not have even an iota of doubt regarding the effectiveness of a noble deed and that is possible only when we speak and work with full conviction and commitment.