A Christmas Carol
- Out Shopping
I was in a local department store, checking out possibilities for some last minute and hence urgent Christmas shopping, trying to decide what was best. I have a very high standard for buying presents: if I don’t think I’d like to receive the present, then I won’t buy it, thus I wasn’t at all hurried, even whilst queuing at the cash till. As I was thus engaged, I thought I got a glimpse of blue swishing by, almost subliminally as it was in my field of vision for such a short instant of time. I forgot about it, made my choices and went to the till. The queue seemed to whip and coil around: I sighed to myself as it seemed as if I would be there forever, or at least until next Christmas, and began to wish I’d never bothered coming, even though I really had to. I started looking at those just ahead of me: I saw a young woman several bodies down the line ahead of me. She stood with her back to me, but I could see enough to take away the boredom for a moment: she looked adorably petite, not more than 5'4" tall even if she stretched herself, slim with slightly unruly blonde hair seemingly barely captured by a hair grip before it flared out behind her neck onto her shoulders. But what intrigued me the most was that she wore a pale blue nurse’s uniform, clean and trim on her slender curves.
An instant later, my shopping expedition became much more interesting: the young nurse turned her head such that it appeared in profile to me, and at that a strange melting feeling came upon me as this new image of loveliness impinged on my mind; for lo, it became apparent that she wore glasses. The frames were silvery-grey metal, and appeared to be slightly oval in shape, but the section of the frame that was responsible for holding the lens I could see in place was not the usual delicate ring of metal: no, it was more like a band, almost half a fingernail’s length wide. This part of the design of her frame was no mere piece of frippery or artistic fancy: it was necessary, in fact very much essential, in order to hold a lens in front of her eye. The lens I could see was her left one, and it was about half an inch thick, perhaps more. For a moment, she pressed her glasses against her face with her right hand, but thanks to her thick lens I could not see her eye at all. Then she appeared to shrug and turn back to the business of queuing for the till. My eyes never left her back till I reached the cashier myself, but alas I was never again given a chance to see her face. Instead, I digested what I had seen. She looked like a pretty girl of between sixteen to eighteen, slim but still shapely. My mind was full of her as I paid for my Christmas presents.
2: Accident
I soon forgot all about her in the midst of that busy weekend before Christmas. I was driving to work a couple of days later, the day before Christmas Eve, expecting to not have much actual work to do: things had been quiet for about a week, the most important thing going on being the writing of Christmas cards. I got about halfway to work, happily driving along minding my own business, when suddenly a car swerved into me from the other lane. Before I knew it my car was careering into a tree faster than I dared to think about later, then hit it very hard. My car was badly beaten up, and I realised that when it hurt to move I would not be getting out on my own. Everything seemed to hurt: my right wrist, left arm and right leg especially, and, oddly, my forehead. I swooned, and when I woke up I was being stretchered away into a waiting ambulance.
- Christmas Eve
I wasn’t really with it the next 24 hours or so, as I’d spent my time in a pain-relief induced stupor. It slowly dawned on that I’d been taken to hospital, and that I’d had an operation to insert a pin in my leg. Apart from that, I wasn’t really capable of comprehending what had transpired, and had even forgotten that it was the Christmas season. I woke listlessly in a hospital bed sometime later; I think it was the mid afternoon of Christmas Eve. Initially everything was a complete blur, then my eyes slowly realised that they had a job to do and reluctantly got on with it: I realised there was something in front of me, not more than about half a meter from my face. It seemed to have a blue bottom, a smaller pink area further up and a hint of yellow around the top, and something like a light flashing a few inches down from the top. Suddenly my eyesight really woke up and did as it should, and the thing in front of me resolved into a person: a nurse, in fact. In an instant everything was clear, but what I saw did as much to cause stupefaction as the drugs: for the nurse who was looking at me so softly was none other than the one I’d seen at the weekend!
The sight was utterly glorious: she was as pretty as I’d seen from the side, but even better from this angle! Her thick lenses were revealed as myodiscs with quite small bowls, smaller than would be ideal for peripheral vision, but very helpful with the matter of lens edge thickness. I supposed she was forced to use them, judging by the thickness of her lenses: it was true, both lenses were on view and both were appallingly, beautifully thick. Behind each bowl nestled a tiny shrunken blue eye, a sliver of her cheeks, some nice, albeit small coke bottles and a distorted, curved version of the world behind her head. I imagined her RX to be something around the thirty mark. But I was in no state for such speculation.
She spoke to me softly, gently, as you imagine a good nurse would; not the bossy types you see sometimes, who could easily have passed as concentration camp guards and were best avoided where possible. My eyes met her wonderful gaze, then dropped to her bust, where I saw her name badge. Her name was Carol, and below that it said “Student Nurse.” I didn’t really take in what she was saying, but she seemed to be expressing sympathy that I was in hospital over Christmas. It didn’t seem such a problem if the likes of her was around to care for me! Abruptly, the Nursing Sister spoke, telling her quite harshly to do something else, I wasn’t sure what: Carol left me with a look of abashment on her face. I watched her walk off, carefully checking the ground beneath her and the door handle as she neared the door. Then I was again lost in a sea of grogginess, lashed by winds of fascination about the young nurse Carol.
I was insensible for long time, at least a couple of hours, then slowly I came to again and took stock of my situation: I was in a section of a ward with only six beds, of which only one other was occupied, from whom I perceived neither sound nor movement. As for myself, I didn’t feel like moving even if I could do so, being as my leg was in traction and my left arm held up in a sling before me; I felt pretty sore, despite the pain killers. I could move my right arm, but my wrist was in plaster and thus immobilized, making picking up things difficult, especially if they were small. I sat wondering where Carol was, until I smelt food and the rattle of a trolley being pushed along: I abruptly realised that I was hungry. The trolley got pushed in by what I considered to be a rather nondescript nurse, who told me I would get a random meal because I wasn’t here yesterday. It wasn’t particularly exciting: hospital food has a poor reputation, and this was no exception. It was some variety of chicken fillet thing with carrots, potatoes and peas.
The nurse was about to leave me to it, after leaving a meal with the silent guy opposite, when I asked,
‘can I have some help with this?’
I was really not in a fit state to feed myself, with one arm stuck in the air and the other, although mobile, of little use for holding things. She said nothing, then walked off with her trolley, and I sourly concluded that was all the help I’d get from her, so I grabbed the knife in my right hand and started trying to cut the fillet up. The plaster on my wrist and around my thumb really got in the way: I couldn’t grip very well, thus unsurprisingly after a couple of attempts the knife went flying onto the floor with a “clang”, way out of my reach.
I sat back with an exasperated sigh, and then with relief heard footsteps coming up the corridor. At this stage I was ready to accept help from anyone, but Carol would be a bonus. The door was pushed open, and in walked Carol. I ached as much from my injuries as from the sight of her young, lithe body walking toward me. She smiled and said, in her own perky, bright fashion,
‘hello again. Would you like some help?’
I nodded and replied wearily,
‘yes please.’
She pulled up a chair so that she could sit beside my bed, looking to me stupendously lovely: I could not keep my eyes off her. Her bespectacled gaze caressed the meal tray, then she exclaimed,
‘you haven’t even got a knife!’
She started to get up, with the obvious intent of haranguing someone about it. I told her,
’no, don’t worry, it’s on the floor down there. I dropped it.’
She wriggled around in her seat and turned her head to look: for the briefest instant, I saw the world though the narrow myodisks of her lenses, small and distorted. Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses, and she turned again, still squinting horribly but now bent over to see the floor more clearly. Rather dumbly she said,
‘where? I can’t see it.’
She got to her feet and began to search for the knife, walking towards the right bed but still not seeing the knife. I pointed and said,
’there by the bed leg. No, not that leg, the one on the left.’
She stopped at the end of the bed I was indicating, crouched near the bed leg, and seemed to feel around near the knife without really heading straight for it: it seemed pretty obvious that she had quite poor vision, so I told her,
‘a little to the left.’
Her questing fingers found it and grasped it, then she stood and turned with a expression of triumph on her face: she then seemed to realise what had just transpired. She didn’t need guidance to find something to wipe the knife clean: this was easier, being as where the wipes were stored wasn’t on the floor, and she had a good idea where they should be anyway.
She sat down again and started cutting up my dinner. As she did so she asked about the accident, where I was going, where I worked, and other things thus related. Then she got a bit on the fork and offered it up for me to eat. This was quite the strangest meal I’d had in a long time: being spoon fed by a young pretty high-myope. She smiled gently at me almost at every opportunity, and that was when she wasn’t encouraging me or gazing carefully at what she was doing. After my meal, and some orange juice to wash it down, I asked carefully,
‘Carol, could you really not see the knife on the floor?’
By now she was standing, busy clearing up; at my question her face fell slightly, as did her shoulders. But she couldn’t lie, saying unhappily,
’no, I could not. I am a high myope, I am partially blind even with my best correction, but I understand there are nurses around that have much worse vision than me.’
She seemed rather upset by having to admit this, so I said,
‘don’t worry, Carol, you are an excellent nurse and I am really glad to be in your care rather than that of some of the others I have seen around here. They don’t seem to care very much.’
She smiled, and said,
‘Thank you. That means a lot to me.’
With that, she trotted off gaily, her hair bouncing gently as she walked, and that was the last I saw of her that evening, although my thoughts were full of her kindness, pretty face and of course matters pertaining to her vision.
- Christmas Day
Christmas day dawned bright: I awoke, but it took me a few moments to realise my situation: it was Christmas, but unhappily I was stuck in a very dull and uninteresting hospital ward. Then I remembered Carol, that spectacularly myopic nurse, and suddenly things seemed much brighter and more interesting. I had my breakfast served to me: thankfully it was something that needed no help to eat. Then, around mid-morning my bed got wheeled into another ward containing some other patients. There was something that resembled a party atmosphere, or as near as could be managed in the circumstances. Eventually our Christmas lunch came, the usual turkey & trimmings, hospital style. Of course I was quite unable to eat mine again, so I sat and waited for help.
Eventually I saw a nurse appear at the door: it was Carol: she was wearing a Santa Claus hat and tinsel around her neck, which made her look quite fetching. She did her usual squinty-eyed survey of the scene, then asked another nurse if I was there. Hearing this, I immediately waved and called her name: she came over, pausing to stumble over something on the floor. The ward sister did not look impressed, shaking her head. But at least she was prepared to help, not stand around talking. Carol came and sat facing me, smiling and peering at my face, looking for my expression in whatever she saw of me. She asked sweetly how I was feeling, then started helping me with my Christmas lunch. It was so lovely meeting those lovely blue eyes, shrunken and trapped behind such thick lenses, seeing in a sort of undefined and slightly unfocused way: it served to distract me from the decidedly ordinary hospital food. As she cleared away the remains of it, I thanked her; she gave me one of her lovely smiles then left.
I was put back in the quiet ward for the afternoon and evening because I didn’t feel that wonderful. After a while, I fell asleep for a couple of hours; upon waking I again found Carol sitting beside my bed, leaning forward. I asked her,
‘how long have you been there?’
‘Oh, only a few minutes. Did I wake you?’
‘No.’
There was a pause while she turned her head to look at the table beside me: her fingers groped slightly for a medicine bottle. Once found, her movements were practised and sure, though: she had it ready for me and said,
‘here’s your medicine.’
I let her give it to me, then before she could leave I commented,
‘you look good in tinsel.’
She looked a little surprised and faintly embarrassed.
- Testing Times
I didn’t see Carol again for two days, and consequently I was thinking I’d said something wrong, although what had really happened was that she was on leave! During one particularly boring afternoon I was again pushed through to the other ward, where there were a few other nursing students: there was no sign of Carol, but then a door opened and there she was, splendidly pretty and myopic. I was forced to gain her attention again: upon realising that I was there, she came straight over to say “hello,” and was her usual pleasant self.
There was also a rather gruff and uncompromising nursing Sister, who told them to prepare trolleys for inspection: basically they had to put things just so, being one of the seemingly rather silly but necessary parts of learning to be a nurse. Just before they started, the Sister held up a sort of clamp-like thing and told them,
‘make sure this is in the right place,’
but without actually telling them what it was: she was testing them. Of course, identifying it was easy for people who could see it, but Carol plainly couldn’t, thus she wasn’t sure. She stood there squinting uselessly at whatever it was, then belatedly realised that she hadn’t a hope of seeing it being as the Sister had put it in her pocket. Despite this, Carol turned to the trolley next to me and started arranging it. She looked to be quite panicked as she did it, which seemed to impair her ability to remember where things should have gone on the trolley. There were some things that weren’t needed: she seemed to know that, but her hand hovered uncertainly over one item, then another. Of course, I had seen the clamp that the Sister had held up, and could also see what the other student nurses were doing. The time allowance was ticking away, but Carol was still trying to deduce what the sister had held up: she was floundering, so I leant over to her and whispered,
‘it’s the clamp thing.’
She looked at me curiously, so I repeated myself,
‘she was warning you about the clamp thing.’
A wave of realisation swept over her face, thus she instantly grabbed it and placed it where it was meant to be. She turned her head to me and mouthed a silent,
’thank you!’
The Sister called “time,” at which all the students stopped and stood by their respective trolleys, looking hopefully at the Sister. She started checking the trolleys one by one: whilst she was engaged in this, I eased myself up in order get a better look at the other trolleys so as to compare them with Carol’s. There was one particular item which looked a bit crooked on hers that I could see was straight on all the others; I assumed that she’d knocked it askew in her panic. After ensuring that nobody was looking, I reached out with my right hand and nudged it straight. Carol stood watching the inspection as best she could: when it came to hers it was now perfect, thanks to her knowledge and my assistance. Afterwards she touched my hand gently and said softly,
’thanks, I was really in trouble there because I think that old cow wants me out of here, on account of my poor vision.’
I felt so glad to help such a lovely high-myope!
- Pulling a Cracker
There was no sign of Carol until after New Year’s day, but when she reappeared, she spent as much time as possible with me. Eventually came the day of my discharge: I didn’t think she was going to come and say goodbye, but eventually she did scurry into the ward, doing her usual looking-carefully-around act before coming to stand beside my bed and saying to me with some sadness in her voice,
‘I hear you are leaving today?’
To which I asked her,
‘are you busy tonight?’
Her small eyes grew behind her lenses, then she nodded, saying
‘I’m on duty. But tomorrow… I’m free.’
‘OK, maybe we can meet somewhere and do something.’
She nodded, smiling. A little tear ran down her pretty cheek, which she impatiently wiped away. I got the impression she’d not been asked out much before.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘aren’t you going to give me your phone number?’
She reached for her pocket, found a pen and scrap of paper, wrote it out and handed it to me, then said,
‘see you tomorrow.’
She walked off with a huge smile on her face!
I did indeed see her the next day, and for many many more days after that: I absolutely loved having this young pretty nurse giving me some extra-special personal care & attention!