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I'm the kind of person who joins the Y in hopes that the guilt over monthly fees will propel me to use the exercise machines. I'm also the kind of person who can live with guilt, so I haven't used those machines in a year of monthly fees. But on the job (I work as a nurse in a retirement community), I do discipline myself: I don't take the elevator; I climb the stairs. My stair-climbing ethic is simple: • For non-emergency calls,
I climb the stairs.
• For emergency calls,
I push the elevator button, and if the doors do not
immediately open, I climb the stairs. (I have tested
this out: Even when climbing at a normal pace, I
can almost always beat the elevator.)
• The above two rules do
not apply to Floors 6, 7, and 8 because, after running
up seven flights of stairs, I would be the emergency.
(This is not the break it might seem. I don't get
as many calls to Floors 6, 7, and 8, where the residents
are in Independent Living.) Needless to say, when one is pushing a cart, one cannot very well use the stairs. Cart-pushing moments do not come often to me, but, when they do, I am truly appreciative. A cart piled discreetly with deliveries from the pharmacy instantly grants permission to push the elevator button, to simply stand still – to do nothing at all, entirely guilt-free. For what can any of us mortals do to make an elevator come faster? In our facility, there are large windows at the ends of each corridor, and even when the elevator dings open at a touch, there is time to glance quickly toward the horizon, to remember what season we are in, to wonder about the weather. But oh the good fortune of a wait for a slow elevator! On some floors there are windowsill gardens, potted geraniums tended to by one of the residents – even through the winter, as the blooms begin to get smaller and all the more precious. And beyond the sill is that view worth taking in even on a gray day in February: below, the forlorn little gazebo, wearing its skirt of dirty snow; across the way, the mystery of other windows gazing back; and far off, the glint of an airplane moving out of view. I seldom complain about a slow elevator. I lean on my cart and wait, savoring every minute of that retreat from busyness. Climbing stairs is what I do for the sake of my heart's muscle. Staring out the window by the elevator is what I do for the good of my heart. Discuss This ArticleHave something you'd like to say? Tell us what you think! Read and post comments for this article. Like this article? Read more! Browse our archive of 1,108 articles. Also, see our master index of all MedHunters articles! Find a JobChoose your career: MedHunters is the world's biggest healthcare job board. Our job directory has 18,008 jobs with 2,507 hospitals and other direct employers. We want you to find your next job on MedHunters. Need Help? Call us at 1-888-884-8242, email us at info@medhunters.com or sign up now. Would you like to share your story about a touching, funny, or memorable event that happened to you on the job? Do you have your own story of being a patient? Email us today at submissions@medhunters.com. |
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