Fingerprints of a Loving God

A brief return to the past

I remember one of my Nursing Tutors pulling me aside at the end of a class for a chat about how things were going. I admitted feeling tired and a little stressed but nothing more…

…She did however suggest that there would be benefit in arranging a time to talk to the counsellor based at the Polytechnic Health Centre…

…I was nervous and very unsure what to expect. Rosemary was a lovely gentle lady who was kind and tried hard to be reassuring. We talked at length about the workload and about my study habits. She suggested a few things for me to try and asked me to return the next week. I was not at all sure that this was a good idea.

I made a concerted effort to try some of the things that she had suggested but in reality it made little difference. I knew the reason for that! I knew that I had not given her all the information that she really needed…

I returned to see her with the objective of telling her that it would be my last time. She was friendly as ever and asked how my week had been. We chatted for a few moments. Then to my surprise she suddenly leant forward in her chair (which now made her very close) and looked me straight in the eye. She spoke very quietly.

She told me that she was concerned for me, that I seemed to be doing what she asked of me but that I seemed to continue to be rather stressed. She looked me in the eye and asked if there was something else that I needed to tell her. I was absolutely stunned and speechless.

Then I cried.

I sat with tears rolling down my face and trembling. I doubt that I could have spoken and I made no attempt to.

She was so gentle and so very kind. She took my hand and said that I needed to think but that I should return the next week when we could talk. I nodded agreement and left….

It took a couple of days before I was able to explain to Romy that I was making no real progress and that Rosemary had reached the conclusion that there was something else that I needed to tell her. Romy looked me straight in the eye and asked “Is there? Tell me the truth”. I swallowed and said I thought there might be something. The room grew very quiet for a few moments before Romy replied “well you should tell her then”.

It was a long week and I rode a rollercoaster ride the whole week. I was desperate to cancel but I knew that if I walked in to cancel I risked bumping into Rosemary.

By the day before I was sure that I wouldn’t go and I would simply just not go. About lunchtime Romy looked at me and said “You’re thinking of not going tomorrow aren’t you?” I laughed. I mean, what could I say. So I explained that I didn’t want to go because I just didn’t know how to say what I had to say. Romy’s solution – write it down.

That evening I gathered pen and paper and wrote down my dream. I thought that might be the key.

The next morning I arrived to see Rosemary. I was 3 minutes late. I was never late but I really did not want to be there. I had wrestled all night. Rosemary was usually in her office and reception would let her know that I was there. This time she was waiting at reception. Nothing was said about it but she knew very well that I had battled to be there.

We went through to her office and took our seats. There were no pleasantries this morning. Very quietly she said “Suzanne you look very tired. You look unhappy at being here. Is there something we should talk about?”

My heart was racing and the room was filled with the noise of the clock ticking.

I shook my head.

“So why are you here?”

More ticking of the clock and yet time seems to be standing still.

My hands were sweating, my heart was racing and I suddenly felt so sick.

Quietly I reached into my bag and pulled out the piece of paper which I handed to her. She was reluctant to take hold of it but she did. Without reading it she asked, “what do you want to talk about?”

Again silence. “Suzanne…”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about anything. I have written down a dream that I keep having. I don’t want to talk about anything.”

Rosemary then read all that I had written down. She looked up at me and I prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me. It didn’t.

“Suzanne, how long have you been having this dream?”

“A few months.”

“Suzanne, how often do you have this dream?”

“A few nights a week. Sometimes more than once in a night.”

“Suzanne, we need to talk about this dream – don’t we?”

“No”

“Suzanne?”

“No”

“I think we do”

“No”

The clock ticks and the tears begin to fall down my face. I bend down and pick up my bag to go. As I straighten up, “Suzanne, I just want to ask one question – Suzanne!” I look her straight in the eye. “Suzanne is this a dream or a memory?”

I force a smile on my face. “Yes”

“Yes?”

“It is a dream and it is a memory. I do not want to talk about it and I want to go now.”

“Will you come and see me next week?”

“I do not want to talk about this.”

“Will you come and see me please?”

“But…”

“Suzanne I need to check in with you please!”

“Ok but I need to go now.”