Sunday, March 28, 2010


As I'm putting an IV into an elderly gentleman and drawing blood, I'm making small talk with him. I switch from the vacutainer to the luer lock and flush, and a bit of blood dribbles out before I can attach it. A few drops drip onto his hospital gown. "I'm sorry about that," I say.

"It's okay, it's just a little blood," he replies, "nothing I haven't seen before."

"Were you in the medical field?" I ask, curiously.

"Oh no," he says. "I was at Omaha Beach."

All I could say to him was thank you. Our worst day in the ER is nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to what those who fight have seen. Especially those who fought at D-Day.


Nick and Kaley said...

good thing you knew where Omaha Beach was. I would have been like "There are no beaches in Omaha"

Filia Dei said...

Kaley, I love you, but that is why my kids are homeschooled.

LP. So cool to meet a WW2 vet. Love them. Especially the ones who will talk to you about it. Gilbert worked with a man who would tell storeis about the war. He loved it.