Patient: Opal*

Opal was sitting up in a pea-green pleather armchair. Her tremendously swollen legs, covered in oozing sores, made a stark contrast to her bright blue eyes that looked out at me from beneath a halo of fluffy white hair.

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Opal had been admitted to the hospital late last night from her nursing home by one of my colleagues. The swelling in her legs had become so extreme that she could barely stand up. She had a problem called venous insufficiency, which means the valves in her veins had broken down and allowed fluid to accumulate. When severe, it can lead to additional problems, such as cellulitis, an infection of the skin, which happened to Opal. Though remarkably, for an 86 year-old woman, she was otherwise quite healthy. 

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Normally Opal would have been placed in a room in the main hospital, just near my office, but the hospital was overcrowded this week. So the administration opened up the “overflow” wing for stable patients, including Opal. This wing was so far away from the main hospital that if a clinical emergency occurred, the staff was instructed to call 911 and wait for help, rather than hit the standard Code Blue button.

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All the staff were feeling the strain of simply too many patients in need of care this week. I was no exception. Opal was last on my list to see since my other patients were considerably sicker. The sun had long set by the time I started making the long trek to this distant overflow land.   

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I felt tired. It was the last day of my seven-day shift and I couldn’t wait to get home, away from all the sadness and disease this world seemed to contain. How old, how beat down I feel right now, I thought as I entered Opal’s room.

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A black and white film was playing on the television. I was about to introduce myself when Opal saw me and exclaimed with a child-like delight: 

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“Well look at you! You walked through the door and I thought, now isn’t she beautiful. She has brown hair!” 

 

I grinned and caught her infectious laughter. My plain brown hair, messily tied up on my head, surprised and delighted this woman whose eyes usually fell on white and grey. 

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In this simple moment, joy and ease filled the room. Filled me. 

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I stayed a while with Opal that night, forgetting my wish to go home, as we chatted happily about old films, famous movie stars, and of course, hair color.

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Written by Jill A. Monteiro, MD, MBA

Published May 2020

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*This is a true story and all names have been changed for privacy reasons.