The Nurse Who Loved Me

Cerulean is... “...the color of the sky on a serene, crystal clear day.”

The stethoscope has been very symbolic of the medical professions. Every nurse and physician I know has one, and it is said that you can tell the personality of its owner just by looking at them hanging over their necks or sideways to their shoulders.

My faintest memories of my first, and now-old stethoscope have long been buried in antiquity. The medical salesman enthused me into buying a steth weighing more than my dry weight, with the promise of a free BP apparatus that weighs twice as much, and free sets of pediatric and newborn diaphragms. I can even select which color I prefer for the tubings. I was thinking of a lilac-sky blue combination, or an Elle Woods-inspired hot pink tubes with fur and polka dot prints, but normal decency told me to choose cerulean instead.

It, however, served me extremely well. It had been to a thousand arms, chests, backs, and abdomens. It had been abused, dropped, and slammed, and yet it didn’t even look used at all. I bring it everyday to school and duty, even in lectures, and at times at night-outs. My bag was never complete without that magical piece of device.

A semester before my graduation, while I was assigned at the Neonatal ICU of a certain government hospital, by some unlucky twist of circumstances, I saw the diaphragm of my stethoscope punctured and severed. I wore it like a crazy madman and voila, I couldn’t hear any sound at all. No heartbeats, no congested breath sounds, no fetal heart tone, no bowel sounds, no nothing.

Somebody must’ve dropped it since I left it unattended on top of a newborn incubator as I was doing something, like preparing some medications. I dare not went berserk at that time since there’ll be no use going ga-ga over something that was partly my fault. I should’ve worn it on my shoulders, instead, or I should have placed them on my scrub suit pocket. But then again, who would have thought that my ole reliable steth would give up on me at that such inopportune time.

Now I’m back to work this Monday, and I’m bringing with me my new Littman’s. I hope that this new friend of mine will not give up on me readily. I want it to stay with me until I grow old and die. To touch (no pun intended) more lives, to hear more heartbeats, to listen to more lungs, and so much more.

Armed with my cerulean scrubs, black stethoscope, and red penlight, and hopefully, lesser patient admission, this is me, saying uhm, see you soon, here in blogosphere, or otherwise.

After all, I’m just a heartbeat away.

Lub. And dub.

Images from Yahoo TV, flickr and Google Image Search. And nope, I'm not going on a hiatus thanks very much.