When it comes to nursing, developing friendships is inevitable, especially with those who genuinely care about me (I can tell).  I love my nurses, at least 99% of them.  However, with Kristyn, it’s different.  I met her back in 2009 when she was only seventeen years old…

It was on a September afternoon that my family and I were heading out for dinner.  I waited outside in the garage with one of the doors open.  I noticed a cute girl going from house to house.  As she approached me with a smile, her mouth continued its melody in her soft-spoken voice.

“Are any of your parents home?  Or is there anyone I can talk to?”

At that moment, I felt as though someone ripped my heart out of my chest cavity and stabbed it a couple hundred times.  Is that really what girls think of me?  Do I look like a five-year-old?  Am I drooling to make her think me also mentally handicapped?  Mind you, this was months after someone changed her mind on me, while at the time, I had recently realized for real, the conflicts of my romance.

Fearing that she was a cult member, though I wanted to join her, I asked, “About what?”

Of course, I didn’t care if she thought I was a ‘tard.  What could I lose with someone who didn’t think I had the capacity to speak for myself?  I asked again.

“I’m not selling anything,” she proceeded.

While I was about to explain how she could talk to me like a real person, mother came from behind.  Damn it.  I suddenly lost my opportunity to stand up for myself and be a man!

Lo and behold, she miraculously decided to elaborate.  She was from the Hospital for Sick Children and Mom informed her that we had already donated.  Exchanging farewells, I desperately tried laughing at myself for how cursed I really was, but it quickly grew silent as I realized again why I could never get a date.  I tried not to think about my reality, but it still hurt so badly.

But little did I know that the torment within my lonely heart was necessary.  I hope I don’t go to jail for admitting that I crushed on a teenager for some minutes!  I needed to be torn apart during that time so I could focus on myself, my writing, which eventually opened a path for my future book, Ridiculous: The Mindful Nonsense of Ricky’s Brain.

Late last year, when my health began to rapidly decline, Kristyn was assigned to be my nurse.  Initially, I didn’t recognize her lovely face, but she looked familiar.  When I finally figured out who she actually was, since she lived only a few minutes away, it was pretty much serendipity.

I felt safe around her.  My heart became much calmer.  She cared for me with the softest, most gentle hands.  One evening, she wore a T-shirt and I noticed that unlike my chicken wing arms, hers were thick and strong in comparison.  I felt so protected.  Girly arms are so awesome… no, I wasn’t in love with her.  I utterly loved who she was, and the best part?  Her job was to listen to me, so there!

On another occasion, she asked if I was okay.  When I told her that I wasn’t and she asked me why, I explained with all the romance garbage that I usually talked about.  I told her I needed a reason to keep going.  It was then that she pointed to her heart, smiling.

“Could I be your reason?”

That moment was the sweetest one in the world.  She was so kind.  I bet she didn’t know how nice that was for yours truly!

Most of all, however, during one of my lowest points, she made me want to live again.  I was so down on my knees that night, until seeing the tiny pink bumps on her arm.  Observing those adorable little protrusions upon the silk of her glowing skin made me realize how much I’d miss women if I left the world.  She saved my life.

When I first encountered Kristyn, my heart sank with great disparity.  I forgave her at the moment she caused it to ache.  She was young and didn’t understand the ripple effects of the way she conducted herself.  Meeting her for the second time, I saw her person.  She took away my hope when it became too much and gave it back when I needed it the most.  I look forward to her shifts every single time.