After approximately two hours and several visits to the corner port-a-potty (a diuretic will do that for you), we began our journey up 5th Avenue. A marvelous feeling feels your soul as you turn the corner of 45th Street and start moving northward. There is no better way to travel up 5th Avenue, i.e., marching to the sounds of bagpipes, right smack in the middle of this famous Manhattan street, the warmth of the sun on your face, your ears ringing with the cheers of the jovial crowds lining the sidewalks. But for me, this year felt different than all the others. There was a certain sadness in the air. Shortly before we started to march, I had been given a pin to wear and I had attached it to my treasured nursing school cape just below the gold StVH pin which professes to the world the virtues of St. Vincent's nurses - Patience, Fortitude and Perseverance. I made sure my button was on straight, even though my heart felt a bit crooked as I read its' message again - Save St. Vincent's. My mind is saying, Can this be real, has it actually come down to this? Is this, "our"magnificent major Medical Center, really finished? Sure, I was kept abreast of the news and I knew things were dire. Nonetheless, it took the incongruity of this day to bring my deepest feelings to the surface. Here we were on this picture perfect St. Patrick's Day. I had never marched in better weather and the crowds were larger and more festive that ever. But the sun and the warmth, and the revelry and celebration felt almost unfitting to me. We did not wear green carnations this year and the absence of a corsage felt appropriate. Black arm bands might have been more suitable at this particular time in the history of St. Vincent's. It feels to me like a time of grief and mourning. As we proceed up 5th Avenue, the title of a movie surfaces in my consciousness - Dead Man Walking. Some of the spectators shout out supportive words and express sentiments of condolences as we march by. I heard one particular young woman yell out loud and clear, St. Vincent's, Tell them to show you the green. Yes, I think, why don't they do that? Why don't they get the money from somewhere? Hasn't St. Vincent's Hospital and Medical Center done enough for this city? Don't we deserve to be rescued?
When we reach the famed Cathedral of St. Patrick and throw back the right side of our capes as a gesture of respect something unusual happens. I've marched quite a few times in the past and I'd never seen anything quite like this before. Archbishop Timothy Dolan lets out a sigh when he sees us approaching, and he steps down from the sidewalk and out into the street to greet us. We stop marching. Oh, St. Vincent's, he murmurs sadly as he grabs our hands and walks among us. I shake his hand and hear him announce that every day he lights a candle and prays to St. Jude for St. Vincent's Hospital. I'm feeling really sad, sort of like I'm at the wake of a loved one. But then again, I guess in a way I am. Just as the Archbishop turns to resume his place on the sidewalk a photography runs up and asks him if he would mind standing in the center of our school banner to have a photo taken. He obliges, the photo is taken, and this poignant moment is over. We start moving again. The Bagpipers are way ahead of us now so we march on in silence; too far behind to catch up easily. I think to myself, doesn't this seem appropriate right now - marching on in silence. Later on in the parade or maybe it was earlier, I can't say for sure another photographer jumps out in front of us asking, Is this the hospital that is closing? This makes us noteworthy I guess, because he, too, wants to take our picture. We stop very briefly for this photo and then continue our march. Somewhere around 70th Street I start feeling really tired. I shouldn't feel this tired, I think, I walk a brisk 3 miles almost every day. I come to the conclusion that this fatigue is much more than physical. I turn to the woman marching beside me. I don't even know her name but I'm comforted by the knowledge that we are all a part of this special sisterhood -we are the cream of the crop - the nurses of St. Vincent's. I ask her what street the parade ends hoping to hear something different even though I'm sure we go all the way up to 88th Street. She can see the weariness in my face and says, You know, you can drop out anytime. My answer is immediate and emphatic, Oh no, I could never do that. I know in my heart that I may be tired and I may be sad, but I'm definitely in it to the end.
No comments:
Post a Comment