Angel of Mercy!

I do not remember her name. She was a Lebanese nurse who worked for the TAPLine hospital. She was young and helped me through a tough time.

I returned to Beirut after the Christmas holidays. I noticed a recurring headache in Dhahran but I was on vacation and nothing was going to keep me from roaming the camp, being with my friends, enjoying the Christmas festivities. New Year's eve was a blast. We finished at the theater watching some film.

In Beirut, I began to descend almost immediately. On Friday, I could hardly keep up with the trams as we headed to a film in the Bourj. I felt weird and on Sunday night went to the nurse. There was almost a full house. She took my temperature and put me to bed on the spot. I kept sliding and by the next afternoon the covers felt like toast. I was in trouble.

Nurse Ipronossian must have talked to Dr. Bassett and Mr. Lawrence. My temperature began to soar and they moved me to the hospital. I do not remember the ride or the next three days very well.

At one point, I told the nurse I needed to write a letter to my parents. I pictured a scathing diatribe of my dislike of the school, my friends, the staff, the city, the people, the world! I must have considered the cosmos too. I dictated to her and signed it. We put it in a envelope and it was gone.

Around the fourth day my fever broke and I began to come out of my stupor. I lost about twenty pounds. My nurse brought me food, magazines, paper, pencils. The sun's passage in the eastern Med makes the light in Beirut without equal. It filtered into my room and my health began to slowly return. She took me for walks in the hallway, attended my every need. I began to think about the letter and the guilt poured over me. I wished I had that letter back I said to her. She stood there and looked at me in her matter of fact way, then slipped two slim fingers into a large front pocket and produced it! We were both happy to dispose of it.

Rolf Christophersen ACS56