The Prettiest Nurse Saves a Life

I had just graduated college and was a summer nurse intern at a hospital in
Manhattan commuting home from work.

I was transferring from the 6 to the E train, taking the long steep escalator down to the train. I looked at the stationary, nonworking escalator next to me and noticed a man in his 30's who had obviously fallen and was lying in a very awkward position on the stairs. His friend was calling for help.

I was in my scrubs, a new nurse thinking I was out to save the world, and ran up the escalator stairs to where him and his friend was. The first thing I see is a puddle of blood,but the man was awake. I made sure he didn't hurt his back, and lifted this guy (with his friends help) to a sitting position. I knew he had to go to the hospital, so I called for a bystander to call an ambulance. He looked up at me and said, "Amy, you saved my life." Little did I know, I stupidly left my name tag on that also had the name of the hospital I worked at.

I helped until the police and medics took over, and at work the next day, much to my surprise a bouquet of flowers was sent to me that said "I got some stitches and I'm okay! Thank you so much to the prettiest nurse I've ever seen", with only a first name. It was the coolest subway experience I've had yet.

Stunning Poetry about the 6 train by Willa France

Uptown 6 Train

A spindly limbed girl skips aboard
at Bleeker. Mother follows, pushing her child
at a space between two business-men
and seats herself, opposite. With a little room
to spare, no one stands on this evening local.

In a hop she reaches the empty seat.
With one hand on the knee of the stranger
she chooses, she levers herself up
by one bony leg, pivots and slides
in the gap like a human puzzle piece.

After studying the passengers,
she fails the struggle to quiet hands,
and then her dangling legs swing wildly.
She grasps the stranger’s arm and climbs to her feet,
turns, leans into his shoulder for support,
and cups her hands to peer at sparks beyond
the window. She hums and humming rocks
and cannot stop her feet from tapping.

The stranger has moved neither body
nor limb nor lifted his head—the way sight
of a wild creature freezes an intruder
to the scene. Paralyzed, not to betray,
perhaps, or not to startle. Though he’s raised
his eyes, once devoted to The Journal,
casting about for anyone who will
acknowledge his broadly beaming face.

Replacing one hand on his shoulder
by the other, steadying herself
against lurch and sway, she turns and gazes
from her new height at everyone again.
The sleepers, the dazed, and the silent readers.
But not at him. As if she expected
him just to be! What a pair! Youth and age.
Touching and touched. Blessing and blessed.

The mother rises at 14th. Her child
clambers down his leg, grasps her hand and is gone
as quickly as she appeared. Even so,
he has not moved. But smiling still,
searches the eyes of others one by one,
as if to say: Look! Oh look at me!

Willa France 12-07
Manhattan Poet