Simple Life in a Busy World

        I work in a large hospital and see hundreds of people every day.  They come from all over to receive care in a hospital that is specialized in many, many fields.  For lots of those patients, coming here is an event.  This is a larger city than most of the Podunk towns they come from.  This hospital  employs more people that the total number of residents (and livestock) that typically live in those small home towns.  For many people its an unknown far advanced place that scares the bejeezus out of them!

        I am currently covering a vacation and that has placed me at a desk right off a set of elevators.  I am in an area in the hospital that is unique, as in the entire floor is locked off from everything else.  This is done as a safety measure given that we are in the business of birth up here.  Since people like to steal other people's babies, we make that difficult by secluding ourselves.  (Let it be known, to my knowledge, this has NEVER happened or truly been attempted - ie; I have never had to tackle anyone, though I have wanted to shank a cray-cray a time or two.)  This is a safety measure to make families feel safe after media has famed a couple baby-napping events.  And no, not napping like a siesta, napping like a five-finger discount.  (Also, we have other top secret security measures, so if you think you are ever gonna try something you better be wearing your clean underwear that day and I will also advise you to have all your final affairs in order.  I won't go into the details of my training with Sifu Whoopass and the CIA.)

        Anyway, this vacation coverage puts me in a highly visible spot.  I see troves of people walk off the elevator and instantly find themselves lost.  They point to signs and argue with each other quietly.  As I listen to them blame each other for getting turned around, I always offer to help.  Some people are too prideful and will tell me they know where they are going (yeeahh-oook).  Others will shamefully brave a smile and come to me for help.  They sometimes will tell me the room number that they are looking for (cause I know where all 2 billion rooms are in this place) or simply tell me the service they are trying to find (again cause I am a talking human directory).  Sometimes I can help them find their loved ones with a few phone calls or a patient name and my trusty computer. 

        My favorite is when they insist that someone is here that is not in fact here.  I will verify the name and service, and maybe the reason the patient is admitted, and still come up empty.  I then will suggest surrounding hospitals. That seems to be the ticket to how-dare-you-tell-me-I-am-wrong-ville.  Its a feat to get parked and into this hospital, so to be at the completely wrong hospital would even make Mother Theresa angry.   However, I do kinda love the inner victory when they get on the phone and righteously call the person they are looking for. They will complain that I don't know what I am talking about and ask them to verify where they are. Then that person informs them that they are at the wrong hospital. In my head I do a little jig and if they were really feisty, when the elevator doors close as they leave, I get up and grunt while doing one-arm push-ups on the desk.  (Not really, but I pretend that I am BA enough to get away with it.)

        Anyway, today a good old Iowa farmer got off the elevator.  And when I say farmer, I mean he all but rode his John Deere tractor to my desk.  He was a big man.  Wearing the classic plaid button up under his denim overalls (bibs as they are known around these parts), and a green, sweat stained, very loved, DuPont Pioneer cap. (I had to google that logo.)  His boots housed the soil from the land he spends his days working and his body swayed when he walked in a way that proves he's used it to its full potential.

        He takes a few steps off the elevator (which I refer to as the L cause it sounds swanky. "Java House? Take the L to F1."   "The Atrium?  Take the L to D7."  Side note - our elevators are in alphabet order - Elevator A, Elevator B, so on and so forth - so Java is at Elevator F floor 1).  He has a quick look around before he spots me.  Takes his hat off and rubs his old calloused farmers hands across his head attempting to fix his hat hair. "Scuse me ma'am, I think I may have found myself some kinda lost."
     "Well, you got lost in a good place cause I can help you!"   He chuckles.
     "Well, I'm not mighty shore 'bout that'n.  Yous yuppies o'er here shore like fixin big buildin's."
     "Yes, sir, we do!  A lot of people get lost around here.  Even I do!  But let me see if I can help you find what you are looking for."
     "You mean to tell me thad a young lady like you ain't have no fancy mo-bile phone with them finder on it?  You young folk shudn't be gettin lost.  Yous got that techno-ology yous always usin." He and I both are kinda laughing.  "You are right!  But believe it or not that fancy technology fails us some times and we still find ourselves lost.  Especially in a big ol confusing hospital like this one!"
     "Alrighty than, why don you see if you can tell me where da waitin room is."
     "Sure!  Are you waiting for a baby to be born?"
     "Nooooo ho ho ho," He laughs out a hearty no.  At this point he is so dang adorable I am just delighted and kinda laugh along with him.  "I shore ain't a waitin on no baby!  My boy is havin a surgery today.  An dey toad me I needed to take this'n elevator to 6.  I'm on 6, ain't I?"
     "Yes, sir, you are but I think  you wanna be on 6th over by elevator H."
     "Weeell, I'll be!  Shore ain't fixin to be takin a rugrat home!"  I tell him how to get to over to the waiting room he is looking for.  As he is waiting for the L to come take him to his destination, I let out a yawn.  He smiles and waves as he is telling me that a young lady shouldn't work so hard and that I good man should be doing that work for me. (I WISH!)  I smile and wave back as I am answering a call light.

        After a couple hours, and several more opportunities to play Super Finder, the L dings.  I look up and out walks my cute old farmer.  I ask him if he took the wrong elevator again.  He said no.  He told me he knew where he was headed this time.  In his hands he held two cups of coffee.  He slowly made his way to my desk and out stretched an arm offering me a cup.  While doing so he says, "My boy is out of the surgery but they ain't lettin me see um til he wakes up and them nurses say I can.  I figured by now yous be good n tired and I better be bringin you somethin to help.  Here ya are, (he squints to look at my id badge) Amber."  I thanked for his kind gesture and set the coffee on my desk.  He asks me if it would be a bother if he stayed in the area a little bit. Of course, I couldn't say no!

        He took a chair from the waiting room next door that I directed him to, and set it out a ways from my desk.  He took a seat and crossed leg over his knee than began to sip his coffee.  I help a few people and trade hellos to others as they busy about their days.  He then mentions that I haven't touched my coffee.  Weeeeellllll, you see, between you and I, I am a coffee snob.  I like espresso, soy milk, half flavors, no chocolate, and the lid and sleeve properly lined up with the seam of the cup.  See?  Snob.  The cup sitting in front of me has no sleeve (cause the farmers calloused hands probably have no feeling left in them!) and it's burnt, stale, black, hospital coffee. I raise it to my lips and plug the hole of the lid with my tongue as I pretend to have taken a sip.  He smiles with approval.

        Over the course of about 30 minutes, he spoke to me with his shaky old man voice and told me about his son, grandkids, farm, and wife.  He told me stories about raising pigs and cutting tails and nuts off of them when they were born and how that keeps them alive.  (I'm seriously slightly disturbed and I think he only told me those details to get the city girl reaction out of me.)  He watched me help several people in between our delightful visit.  He grunts and stretches himself out of the chair.  After returning it to its spot he slowly sways himself to my desk.  He rests on his knuckles against my desk and says to me, "Ms. Amber, yous been great company.  You are a purdy young lady and some good ole boy will be lucky to claim ya.  (I told him I was chronically single when he noted the lack of jewelry adorning my "I'm taken" finger.)  I been watchin ya with all those people and yous nice to everyone one of them.  Takes someone real special to be good with people like that'n.  That there's why I raise hogs. (He chuckles deeply).  I hope'n you don't mind me sayin so, but yous got a special heart and will make someone a real kinda happy someday."  I thanked him for his kind and gentle words and off he went taking the L to his son.

        I have thought so much about him.  It was so nice to be complimented like that.  But more so it was just nice to have a complete stranger find comfort in visiting and sharing his life with me.  He reminded me so much of my grandpa that as soon as the doors on the L closed my eyes teared.  I miss my grandpa so much and lots of these simple farmers that venture into the city remind me of him.  Today this farmer taught me more than the birth and life of pigs, he taught me to take time out for people.  Life is so busy and we don't take the time to just visit with each other.  We are caught up in our own lives that we forget how to be human and communicate with others.  He was a complete stranger and to him I was just a "yuppie" but he took time and came back to me.  I was on his mind and he took it upon himself to bring me gross hospital coffee and conversation.  Even when I was busy he quietly waited and then continued on in back and forth conversation.

        It is times like these that I am thankful that I am in good ole Iowa!  I am pretty sure that the same interaction would not have occurred in Los Angeles.  I'm certainly not saying that someone wouldn't have stopped to be kind.  But it's not every day that someone goes completely out of their way (and spends $2 on pricy crappy hospital coffee) to make someone else's day.

        So, tonight, where ever my farmer friend and his son are, I hope they are safe, happy, and healthy.  His kindness and gentle soul have left a lasting impression on my heart.  Be kind, my friends.