Being sick has its advantages, you know, like seeing every week a playful twenty-six-year-old blue-eyed nurse. Lately I’ve made a habit of visiting the little clinic in my town to do blood tests, to exclude all infections before the doctors will let me do a lymph node biopsy. The idea was to do all tests – about eleven of them, including Epstein-Barr, Cytomegalovirus, Toxoplasmosis, Hepatitis, and the like – on the same day (about a month ago) but enter the aforesaid nurse into the waiting room, and my medical strategy underwent a radical change, so much so that I’ve been returning to the clinic for tests once or twice a week, doing only two or three at a time, under the pretext of waiting for the results first before doing the remaining tests.
I’m excited when she pricks me and I must admit that one Tuesday when she was not there, I mumbled an excuse and went home without doing any tests at all.
I suppose it all started when she asked me whether I finished college. Ahem, no, but I did not say that of course, but bragged with my literary pursuits. ‘I write stories in English,’ I said. This somewhat interested her, as it does most people. An agreeable conversation ensued, and then playful exchanges followed during our future encounters. Now whenever I step into the clinic I get the butterflies. And when she says, ‘Bonjour,’ I melt. And though at the clinic she wears eyeglasses, for a professional look, I remember seeing her on the street one day in August wearing red shoes and a fancy red dress, looking like an elegant, ultra-modern version of the Red Ridding Hood.
As much as I would like to deceive myself that she fancies me, I know that is not the case, that what she feels is a great deal of pity for my woeful fate. I have become exceedingly thin now and just about anyone I talk with gives me sympathetic looks. But cannot pity lead to a woman’s heart?
Her ringless hands hold a great promise, though. She is certainly not married. Perchance engaged, but then romantic conflict always makes the story better.
As much as I would like to, I cannot just wait for her one afternoon on the little bench outside the clinic with a bunch of roses and with my romantic intentions. After all, the negative results I’ve had so far push me little by little toward the cancer precipice. I doubt I’ll die anytime soon – it would be easy if peopled died so effortlessly.
What’s in store for me though are months and maybe years of moderate to intense suffering, something that I don’t have the right to share with anyone. I am resolved to stay alone until I get well again, or die. And yet, my overworked imagination likes to dream that maybe I had to become sick to meet a nurse and fall in love with her. After all, no sickness, no blue-eyed nurse. But maybe I try to find meaning where there’s none.
So roses are, alas, out of the question. But you know how painful unexpressed love thoughts are, how they consume you inside. I cannot speak to her and yet I would like to and then I fear she would laugh at me and then come regrets and to conclude, I’m in a sorry state.
To try to make sense of it all I started writing a story about a nurse and a blue-blooded boy, and I mentioned it to her, and since she reads books I proposed that I should give it to her, you know, as I way of telling her what I cannot. She did not say no.
Now help me out, will you?
boy with a hat 
Ever read a book named , “The Cancer ward” by Alexander Solshenitsyn? Hoping that you may have a more favourable diagnosis…
Awww, now why does this development not surprise me in the least? I think I almost expected such a situation to arise when you began visiting medical establishments – it seemed almost inevitable 😉
I love the story of your blue eyed nurse, It’s so lovely yet so painful; I feel for you & think of all the unrequited & uncertain loves I’ve known. I think maybe there could be hope for more for the 2 of your. But even if it’s not to be, I don’t think you “find meaning where there is none”, I think there is meaning in everything, even if it’s not the meaning you seek.
But I’m sorry, dear, I cannot bring myself to vote. You need a 3rd choice there;-) I am a cautious type, perhaps too much, myself. I think you should aspire for more – but perhaps not yet -? I would never, never say shut up to you,, but just, maybe give it a bit more time first? I wish all the best for you, as always 😉
Vincent, let me share a little tale of my own with you…
Several years ago — I shall not be too specific, you understand, as this is still a tender matter for me — I too was in love with a blue-eyed beauty. I say “love” as I am certain that it was such; it held me long and fully, and nothing before or since can compare with it (though I have passed a score of blue-eyed nymphs on the way). It was marvelous, brilliant, exquisite. A thrill ran through my soul every time I glimpsed her, and not only her, but even a room she had been in, the place she liked to sit, or a flower the color of a dress she had once worn.
Infatuated? Yes, I was, and you may be as well, and it is nothing to belittle. Wondering whether or not she liked me — whether she *could* like me, if properly approached — occupied my every waking hour, to my considerable (and unregretted) distraction. I endlessly waffled over telling her how I felt, even in a hint. I had reason to hope: she was certainly not cold toward me, and on a handful of occasions I caught a glimmer in her words and eyes of what was perhaps a sweeter regard than friendship.
Yet I did nothing. Too chicken, too scared that my overture would be met with displeasure and that I would lose what kindness I did enjoy from her. I was younger than you are now, and socially awkward, and hardly confident in my ability to capture a young lady’s heart. So I waited and watched in sweet agony.
Alas, our paths parted. She and I went off to different cities, different walks of life, and I have not seen her since. And do you know what? It gnaws at me still. The thought of what might have been leaves a bitter taste. Even if there had never really been any chance of her loving me too, the fact that I don’t know, that she herself never told me yes or no, is hard to bear.
The thought of her has never really left my heart. And it may be that this is for the best, since it has served as an inspiration to me. Other men may have chosen to mope or sink in gloom in my position, and though I swallowed my fair share of depression, lately the memory has goaded me to improve myself. I realized that, to be worthy of a certain quality of woman (as I feared that I was not), one must attain a certain quality as a man. I am a better man today because of it. Because of her.
So how would I advise you, Vincent? Tentatively, I suggest that you give her that story when the hour is right. It is better in my mind to love openly, and face a brief sting or a long joy, than to bottle up your emotion for a long, cold night of discontent. You know your position best, of course, but if it is only courage you lack, then I bid you ride forth. And who knows? Perchance those roses will re-enter the question. I believe the universe is a kindly place, if one but listens, and I wish you the very, very best.
Ah Vincent. I admire your strategy. But, since this is an inevitable result of these kind of visits and his pretty young lady probably has it happen on a regular basis, I make two suggestions.
1. Take the roses in with you and offer them as gratitude for the help she given when you’re there. She can accept and interpret the gesture as she wishes then. Play little cool.
2. Give her the story when you’re ready but again, just say it’s as promised and make no association between the people in the story and the two of you.Since this happens so often to her, if she wants a relationship she’s capable of asking for it. You remain a gentleman and a patient unless she decides otherwise. After she’s read the story, who knows.
Please get better.
David
Great advice from DavidProsser! As a lady who’s been swooned over by a gent or two in her time, coming on too strong is always a little bit of an intimidating thing. Take it slow, catch her signals as she gives them, reciprocate and let her know you’re interested with small things like the roses. That’s a very sweet idea. It’d make me think twice about you. 🙂
I hesitate to select either option in the above poll. I think a nicer option is to let her know you’re interested in little ways, like the roses as a thank you. Perhaps a sweet note attached to them complimenting her. When the time is right to give her the story and to make your move you’ll know.
This post was adorable, by the way! (I’ll be back!)
“Take ‘davidprosser’s’ advice,” said she who had walked a bit in both the nurse’s and the young man’s shoes a time or two in her life.
Loved the post and your enthusiasm. I agree with David Prosser’s advice. 🙂 Best wishes always.
This was the purest and sweetest thing I have read in a long while now. Thank you.
Reblogged this on Cackles.From.A.Mad.Duck and commented:
One of the sweetest.
Enjoyed reading your entry today.
Slight spelling correction with Little Red Riding Hood – one “d” in Riding, not two.
Now I refuse to check off either box above.
I suggest you simply ask her if she’s free after work some time, maybe even today, to join you for a cup of coffee, and to sit and chat some more, letting her know how much you enjoy her company, And then, say to her – and please don’t say no. It would mean so much to me.
Good luck.
Randy
I didn’t vote as I wanted to advise, Yes, give her the story when the moment is right, but write it in second or third person so she can make her own assumptions. Hope you are wrong about your self-diagnosis and that all will be well in your life. 🙂
This sounds a lot like the Florence Nightingale Effect. Despite voting ‘Yes’, I wouldn’t advise telling her until after the tests are done, just in case it complicates matters. Give yourself some time to decide if it is true love or infatuation, and if you do discover that you really do like her, tell her (or at least hint at it).
All that being said, I’m probably not the best person to give relationship advice. 🙂 I’ve never been in one myself.
I read your touching story and had to think it through
Knowing in advance there is no way I had advice for you
Most of our worries don’t come to pass yet fear still holds us back
From pursuing all our options, it’s that courage that we lack
Perhaps a close relationship is what she’s looking for
Perhaps that’s why she smiles at you when you walk in the door
Perhaps she’s close with someone else and is just a friendly sort
She doesn’t sound like a person who would lead you on for sport
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” is a question you should ponder
Should I miss this opportunity or alone forever wander?
She may not feel the same toward you, yet in the very end
Perhaps she would still understand and want to stay your friend
kind words, nice poem to convey your advice and sentiments.. I agree with you. Randy 😉
Pursue a friendship, yes, I agree too!
Lovely poem.
Most women would be flattered, but if it’s too soon, you could frighten her off. In the beginning of every relationship, feelings are better shown than expressed.
Good luck!
Give her the story, and make sure you add a bunch of roses as well – good luck! You will never know if you don’t try!
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Go for it
Fiction is the best solution (and cover) for everything…
I hope you give it to her.
ey .its hard being inlove with nurse u better ..I am inlove with a married nurse ..and I know she feels the same way
An old post, I realize just now. How is your health though? I hope you’re better now.
I’m okay, at least for the time being. Thanks for asking!