A pop-up charm offensive. Because, why not?
A pop-up charm offensive? In the hospital? You’re kidding, right?
Nope.
I survived an unexpected hospital stay recently. No gory details will be shared (because there aren’t any.) Perusing our everyday news is often the metaphoric equivalent of blood and guts, anyway. Do we need more than our daily reading allotment of the same? (If you do have a hankering for more blood and guts, what the heck is wrong with you?)
On to my totally unexpected pop-up charm offensive.
Whoa, whoa, charm offensive? You mean, a strategy for being exceptionally friendly in the presence of others, most of whom are holding needles and other medically invasive tools, aimed at me?
Yep.
Was this unexpected charm offensive at odds with my lifelong search for authenticity?
(Geez, all these questions. Just wait…)
Soon after being admitted to the hospital, I noticed a subtle and unplanned personal behavioral change. Ms Charming, my, sometimes, alter ego, moved to the fore. Friendly and welcoming. “Oh, you want even more of my blood? Sure, I’ve got great veins. You need to puncture an artery this time, rather than a vein? Well, hey, I’m all yours. I’m gonna hide my eyes, but that says nothing about your capability as an RN.” After all these years, I still cannot look when a needle heads my way.
I sounded like an older, very genteel, Southern lady who was trained, from birth on, to graciously thank all and sundry, for every single thing. Sure, Ms Charm was at work (being charming), but candidly, I was still the patient attached to multiple wires, garbed in my Tarheel blue hospital gown. (Go Carolina!)
I was truly puzzled by Ms Charm’s emergence. Was it faux niceness? A personal authenticity deficit? (God, I hope not!) Undergoing many needle piercings (ouch), but still inquiring about caregivers’ lives. And, of course, sharing that all-purpose Southern greeting, “Hey,” with everyone who stepped through my door.
How did my personality transition happen? Under medical siege, I morphed into a gracious, genteel, Southern woman with absolutely impeccable manners?
Truth be known, I don’t know. However, I can tell you how the practitioners caring for me were impacted. They were lovely, lovely, lovely. Checking on me frequently, asking if there was anything they could get me and, forthwith, please just let them know. I heard about their kids, desires to ramp up their medical educations, and best of all, the nursing assistant who shared that I reminded her of her favorite teacher when she was getting certified. Granted, she shared this at 6 AM in the morning while drawing blood, but I hope she still saw my sleepy smile.
I can’t fully explain my pop-up charm offensive, but who cares? It put me in considerably better spirits and was clearly contagious, in the nicest possible way, to all those caring for me.
Oh, wait, look at this!
“In a time of destruction, create something: a poem, a parade, a community, a school, a vow, a moral principle; one peaceful moment.”
~ Maxine Hong Kingston.
Well, holy moly, my something was a pop-up charm offensive! (What the heck is holy moly?)
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I wholeheartedly agree with turning on the good graces and charms. The last thing you want to be is cranky, irritable, and curmudgeonly when people in white coats (do they still even wear those anymore) are coming at you with sharp, pointy objects.
The times I get quietly uncharming, is when I put my hands over my ears while the doctors or nurses are telling me things I don’t want wormed into my brain. I refuse to be onboard with a disaster prognosis. This is me you’re talking about, not the Titanic, dammit!
I’m intending whatever befell your trip to the ED was short lived and I see you back home sipping on your favorite beverage and eating chocolate. 🙏🏻🙌🏼🫶🏻