The Story Of Rose

I was the nurse assigned to Rose that evening shift in the Coronary Care Unit. Three days prior, she had suffered a heart attack. As I made my rounds and introduced myself, her petite body seemed frail and nearly invisible beneath the white-weave blanket. Though of the age where women color their hair blue-gray and wear it in tight pin curls, Rose wore her short, wavy white hair in a soft, carefree style. Her complexion was nearly wrinkle-free. Although her skin was pale and she seemed tired, her blue eyes sparkled. Progressing through my patient assessment, I noted the hint of pink returning to her face, revealing a glimpse of this vibrant, full-of-life woman.

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The Story of Rose

I was the nurse assigned to Rose that evening shift in the Coronary Care Unit. Three days prior, she had suffered a heart attack. As I made my rounds and introduced myself, her petite body seemed frail and nearly invisible beneath the white-weave blanket. Though of the age where women color their hair blue-gray and wear it in tight...

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