Mr. Negativity




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" January 16, 2003 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com ----------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to your latest issue of "Write 2 the Heart" You are receiving this newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. To subscribe send a blank e-mail to subscribe@write2theheart.com. ------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------ How we react to people can make all the difference in how people act. Just by taking a genuine interest in Mr. Negativity, Pamela was able to change his attitude into one that was enjoyed by everyone around him. ------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------ Mr. Negativity By Pamela Jenkins ------------------------------------------------------------ I heard about Bill several months before I actually met him. He was a hot topic of conversation in the doctor's office where I took treatments for rheumatoid arthritis. The nurses were afraid of him, and the other RA patients tried to avoid his company. This wasn't easy to do, as the treatments lasted about three hours. Like it or not, once a patient was settled in a chair and potent medication in the IV drip bag was flowing, there wasn't a lot of options. Usually I was able to share a small room with other patients during the visit. The nurses, office manager and doctors were in and out of our room during the course of the treatment. There was a friendly atmosphere of laughter and conversation. Some patients were nervous about being pricked with a needle, so this helped to relax them. Coffee and cookies were offered, and friendships were made. We all had a common bond. We hurt and ached, and we were seeking relief from the pain. My first clue that all was not well in the office came when a flustered young nurse stopped outside the door to my room and asked a male nurse to please take over one of her patients. She just couldn't go back into Bill's room again. I couldn't help but overhear the request, and it piqued my interest. Who was Bill? Some of the other patients had already met Bill, and they were rather relieved to have another room to sit in separate from his. "He's quite an old curmudgeon," one whispered to me. Another said, "He made our nurse cry. He was rude to her." There were rumors that instead of coffee, he would ask for a shot of bourbon. When one nurse told him she was going to give him an injection, he growled, "Well, I'll drop my pants and moon you, but only if you'll moon me back." Bill's medication did not seem to be giving him the relief from pain that was expected. This may have attributed to his grumpiness. He was quick to tell other patients, especially the new ones, that the treatments was worthless and they shouldn't waste their money. He liked to remind them of the side effects, scaring one young woman into almost canceling her dose. The nurse hurried to move the young woman out of Bill's room and into another. While the other patients tried to reassure her, our nurse murmured, "I just don't know what we're going to do about Mr. Negativity." When the morning came that I finally met the infamous Bill, I was surprised. I was expecting someone rough and intimidating. What I saw was a frail man who walked with careful, shuffling steps. He was dressed well, and his silver hair was neatly combed. He stopped and stared at me before sitting down in the vacant chair next to mine. I braced myself for the assault I was sure to come. "Hello, I'm Bill. How are you doing today?" he asked politely. "You takin' this stuff, too? I'll bet by tonight you'll be the best dancer at the ball. Doesn't seem to help me much, though." At this point one of the nurses stepped forward and began to prepare Bill for his injection. He sighed deeply, and I realized that the medical staff was running interference for the rest of us, keeping Bill from bothering the patients around him. I made up my mind then to spend a little time getting to know Bill. A chronic illness can make a person feel isolated and alone. I could tell he was lonely, and was probably depressed about his lack of progress with the medication. I had been in that position myself a few times over the years, and I understand firsthand how frustrating it could be. It was probably hard for someone like Bill to start a conversation with those around him when the primary thing on his mind was his health. It didn't take much effort to change the subject from our aches and pains to our other interests. Before long, Bill and I were talking about our jobs, families, church activities and life in general. As Bill began to open up, I noticed other patients listening. He became more animated, and his blue eyes sparkled. One of the nurses pulled up an office chair and sat mesmerized by the tales of his younger days. The office manager stopped and laughed at the idea of Bill pulling off pranks as a child. The other patients were smiling, too. Our morning was definitely looking brighter. At the end of my doctor's visit, with the IV removed and the Band-Aid in place, I was ready to leave for the day. I turned to Bill and said, "It's been very nice to meet you, Bill. I've enjoyed visiting with you today." Bill smiled in return, and thanked me for spending a little time with a grumpy old man. Then he added, "And you know, I think I'm going to be feeling a lot better this time around." I believe I will, too, Bill. In fact, I feel better already. Pamela Jenkins ramblinrabbit @ juno.com (You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know what you think of their story, just remember to remove the space before and after the @ symbol. The space is placed in the address to protect our writers from viruses and email harvesting programs. Have a comment on today's story? Send it to: moderator@write2theheart.com) ---------------------------------------------------------------- Pamela Jenkins lives on a farm near Tulsa, Oklahoma with Stanley, her husband of twenty-two years, and their four children. She is an office manager and enjoys writing in her spare time. -------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------- Letters From Our Readers -------------------------------------------------------------- Kate's story as a great one today & so well written as well! Her dog must havea stomach of iron it sounds like! :o) Betty King www.betty.newsmoose.com ***** Hi Cheryl, "Yikes! Sometimes I feel like silver, tarnishing so slowly I don't even notice it. Excuse me ya'll while I go polish myself." This is a great illustration for a story...how often WE ALL feel the reminder....to get ourselves polished! Love, Diane Dean White http://bw.newsmoose.com/ --------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner It has happened. Our oldest son has been called up to head to the Middle East. At first he was given two hours to leave. He and his wife were frantic at the sudden short notice. He lives nearly an hour and a half from the base. Before he was able to leave, his commanding officer called back and told him it had been arranged for him not to leave at that time, but he will be leaving before March. His sweet little wife told me she was gong to need me more than ever when he is gone to help out with babysitting while she goes to school. That is great with me! How many of you have family and friends called up to serve? It's probably time to include our prayer reminder for them once again. Feel free to send names (first and last or first only) to be included. I know we have many prayer warriors on this list. God Bless, Cheryl ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- © 2002 Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. 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