Is there anything, I mean anything, more JOYFUL than a warm blanket? I think not. A blanket is oh-so-nice, but a warm blanket? Heavenly.
Many of my readers know how much I love camping. But this past week put a little dent in that love. At the time I was lying on the floor of our camper, with my head hanging outside the door, retching violently (is there a way to retch non-violently?), I did not love camping. I wanted to be home. In my own bed – or at least my own bathroom toilet.
I’ll spare you the details, but by the time I managed to lose what felt like every ounce of fluid in my body, it became clear we needed to leave the comforts of our camper in the KOA in the middle-of-somewhere West Virginia and head to the emergency room.
The nurse on duty was young, blonde, pretty, but, strangely, had absolutely no bedside manner. She did not comfort me as I lay dying (well, I felt like I was dying). She was much more interested in hearing once again when all the sickness had started, blah, blah, blah, taking my vitals and entering them in the all-important laptop. I was shaking with cold – not shivering, shaking. I asked her for a blanket. She said, “Sure”. She did not return with a blanket. She did return with a needle and an IV bag full of fluid and an admonition to “hold still” while she stabbed me. I again asked for a blanket. She did not return with a blanket.
A little while later, the janitor walked by, pushing his cart of brooms and bin full of dirty linens. He stopped at my door (curtain) and asked if I needed anything. I did not hesitate to request a blanket. He returned with not one, but two blankets. And they were warm! I cannot express the comfort and JOY those blankets brought me. And such kindness from a person whose job is to clean, not necessarily provide one-on-one care for patients. What a gift he and the blankets were to me.
This week’s JOY: blankets. And the willingness of a stranger to bring me a warm blanket in my hour of need.