In the morning, after our shift had ended, we stood in the staff lounge. I helped pack up her belongings from her locker and carried the bags (overflowing with gifts) to her car. We loaded everything into the car and talked for a few minutes.
It was at this point that I remembered to ask her for her email address. We both began patting pockets and prodding purses for pen and paper. Neither of us had any. Then a stunned look washed across her face. Eyes scrunching up, cheeks flushing, she went through the whole gamut.
"Damn! I left my stethoscope and survival kit on the table in the lounge. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Jamie could spew obscenities in a way that was truly comical. Accompanied by wildly waving arms and rolling eyes, nobody could ever be offended when a string of foul words flew from her mouth. As for her survival kit, well, she didn't even go to the bathroom without that thing. It was a pouch that held all her pens, hemostats, tape, scissors, paper, hair clips, Chapstick, eye liner, whatever. It was a wonder that she didn't occasionally pull a rabbit out of it just for fun.
Jamie promised to leave the information in my mailbox when she ran back to get her things. "You go on and get home. You need some sleep, girl."
We hugged. I was almost afraid to let her go. At work, Jamie was my Millionaire lifeline: my phone-a-friend, ask the audience, 50-50 (except that she was more a 100 percenter.) We both started to cry.
When you work in an environment where people teeter on the brink of death on a daily basis, you either become very close to your coworkers or you go it alone. In this case, we'd become close. Despite that closeness, we hadn't thought about email or phone numbers. I mean, we had the same schedule. We saw each other all the time!
Jamie and I continued our "I'll miss yous" for a couple more minutes, laughing and crying.
Article comments
1 - Eric Berlin
Thanks for sharing this, Joan, and I'm very sorry for your loss. I related to the particulars of this tale as my wife is a nurse. Jamie sounds like she was a special person, and I'm sure she'll be missed by all who knew her.
2 - Joanie
Thank you, Eric. Writing this helped to ease the shock and the sadness.
As a nurse, your wife will understand EXACTLY why Jamie was so special.
3 - Eric Berlin
I could definitely tell from your description, and from my knowledge of nursing culture via the wife.
I'm glad the writing of it helped...
4 - Claudine Chionh
Thank you for writing this, and for honouring Jamie and the others who have stayed behind to help. I'm sorry for your loss.