Foreign Intervention

I just came home from spending a week in the hospital on IV antibiotics after I contracted some powerful bacterial infection from a scrape on my arm. I’m happy to be alive. Happy that antibiotics exist. Both my maternal grandparents died in their forties because that wasn’t the case in their day. I hadn’t been inside a hospital except to visit someone since my youngest son was born 50 years ago so it was a new experience. Less than a year ago the University of Washington opened a brand new hospital wing and I was lucky enough to be housed in it. It’s a beautiful facility and I had the most amazing  care, especially by the nurses and nursing assistants. Many were Filipino, some were Chinese, some Middle Eastern, some came from Caribbean islands. Their names were Rahwait, Meseret, Zed, Sheela, Yan and others. They were knowledgeable and efficient but more importantly to me, made me feel so very cared for, whether they came to my room at midday or midnight. One nurse told me she had gone into nursing after undergoing a health crisis herself and having to have a kidney transplant. My very favorite caretaker was a very short strong Chinese woman named Yan. Nothing was too much for Yan. She did everything with a smile, a nice word and a warm touch. She had the kindest eyes I’ve ever encountered and I’m truly convinced there were invisible wings under her scrubs. When I came home I wondered……….why would anyone have animosity toward these angels and be determined to keep them out of our country because they were born elsewhere? I don’t care where they were born or how they got here, I will be forever grateful they are here.

Photo courtesy stux at Pixabay.com