I spent all of last week in hospital due to complications suspected to be related to current cancer treatments. During the entire time I had a feeling that there would ultimately be a message in what I was experiencing, both emotionally and physically.
My nurse on the day I was given the final all-clear for release was a rather imposing young woman with whom I felt an immediate connection. I watched attentively as she painstakingly scrolled the letters ZAWADI in chalk on the patient chart mounted on a wall in my room. Unable to contain my odd sense of humor, I asked: "Is that an Irish name?"
I detected a giggle and suspected a smile under the mask she was wearing, even though her back was turned to me.
"No, it is Swahilli," she responded rather matter-of-factly as she completed entering my latest vital statistics on the board. Almost as an afterthought, she then turned and asked "Do you know what Zawadi means in Swahilli?" Without pausing for an answer from me, she added "Zawadi means 'gift'!"
Nothing more was said on the subject but my mind was awhirl.
I'd received the message I was looking for and it was truly a "gift", thanks to an unforgettable nurse named Zawadi.
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