The moment that changed how I see all of this
The nurse was kind. She had the enema kit in her hand and a quiet, focused look on her face — the look of someone who's been on her feet for ten hours and is just trying to get through the list of orders.
My grandfather was in the bed beside her. Foley catheter draining into a bag on the rail. Staples still in his abdomen. Five days out from a partial sigmoidectomy he hadn't planned on having.
She started prepping the kit.
She paused. Looked at the chart. Looked at me.
"It's the prep for his prostate MRI," she said. "Urology ordered it this morning."
"He had a sigmoidectomy on Monday."
I watched her face change. The kind of change you only see in people who actually care about their patients — the moment the picture reassembles itself and they realize what was about to happen.
She set the kit down.