bodies. i touch them everyday. old bodies. sick bodies. wrinkled bodies. sad bodies. scared bodies. tender bodies. angry bodies. lonely bodies. its a weird job i have. to touch and to heal bodies. to listen. to intervene. to teach. to assess. to discern. to touch. to be an advocate. to care for the body mind spirit of a stranger. all for strangers. who depend on me for life. for protection. for space. for truth. for healing. for righteous action. and most of all to remember that they are more than just bodies. because behind each wrinkled anxious squeaky old body lies a story. and a family. and a life that is unique and unlike any other. A person, a face, a story, a home, each with their own kitchen tables, shoes, wallets, spaces, jackets, fingers, receding hair lines, wrinkles, mismatched teeth, blood, bones, fears, dreams, loves, lips, words, hearts. Each a life full of purpose, thought, hope, meaning, with each bump and bulge and wart, drop of blood and epithelial cell distinctive.
As a nurse, I touch more than just a body, I touch a person, I have the privilege of entering their story in a deep intimate way. Everyday learning and remembering and teaching, that with each body I touch, I don’t just draw blood or change dressings or help swallow pills, but I touch a body’s story and reach a body’s heart.
so, here’s a few stories of the bodies i touch everyday.
