My first kiss

10-79, or medical runs, is what I do for a living. You know those PITA nursing home calls at 0300 for a sick person or altered mental status on the dementia wing.

I do them for a living. I safely transport your loved ones to and from doctor appointments/rehab/dialysis.

All of my grandparents have passed on, so I treat my patients like my own family members. I have been to a couple of funerals at the families request.

I get to know these individuals. Each ones as unique as the snowflakes that fell this past month.

Today, I finally brought one of my MS patients; back to the home, I rushed her out of for a difficulty breathing call a month ago.

I would meet her at her rehab center three days a week to taxi her from follow up, to follow up, to and from the emergency department when she just couldn't take the pain.

Although her disease has advanced, she "has found the goodness in people, she forgot was always there."

I did that.

Then she started to cry. I could see therapy today had taken a lot out of her. She knows about my muscle diseases. I think this is why she requests me on every transport. She asks me how I get up everyday? Why I always have a smile on my face?

My answer:

I don't know. I have never really thought about it. I just wake up, and get things done. I know I'm "different," but I don't see myself as "handicapped."

She couldn't stand today. She didn't want to use the stair chair.

Who could blame her?

I hate that thing too. I wouldn't trust a collapsable lawn chair with sticks either.

I picked her up. I transferred to her wheelchair. She rolled ahead of me to the front steps. Six steps to her "home." Where she finds comfort.

The men will be by sometime this week to build the ramp, but today we face this challenge.

I squat down in front of her, and say I hope she likes piggy back rides. Her arms could wrestle bears down, it's her legs that don't work as well. She hops on and up the stairs we go. My partners 105 lb frame would not have helped in this situation.

She is giggling like a child. She makes a comment about the "blind leading the blind." and I think I heard her say something about a gimp. Her husband grabs her chair and gets ahead of me. He's health is not fairing any better then hers.

I set her down in her chair. She reaches up and hugs me. She hold me so tight. Then she kisses me on my cheek.

Wow.

I swear my eyes started to sweat. That is all. She welcomes me back anytime I'm in the area.

I hope when my body decides to mutiny; I can find a caregiver that cares enough about me to express myself in that way.