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Author: D Anthony, D-Rose Impressions, 10/99

* Excerpt from the motivational and inspirational book,
The Nurse in the Delivery Room Slapped Me... Once *


Every morning, before I face the world, I kneel next to where you lay. And with one hand on the Bible and the other on you, I pray. I pray for the world… for my Mom… for me. In you I find comfort. With you I find the strength to face another day. Furry inanimate object or not - You have become my source of hope… my link to my meaning.


In my last year of college, I decided to test the corporate waters and earn some real money by applying for a coop. My first interview was the setting when I first met Diana. Diana was a middle-aged middle manager at a large corporation who never learned to make it she needed to lose her humanity. In fact, I was pretty sure I was high on the candidate list when, in the interview, my summation of a previous summer job teaching children culminated with her tears. I remember sitting there in awe of everything. I remember her saying if we hire you we will have you doing this... and this... and that. I remember thinking okay I don't have a clue how... but if you say so.

I was hired. She took me under her wing, showed me the ropes, gave me opportunities and encouragement, and had me doing this... this... that... and more. For three years she was more than a manager. She was more like a second Mom. I still recall the conversation we had when it was time for me to move on. With tears in her eyes she congratulated me on my performance. With matching puffy eyes I thanked her for the stage - to which she replied that she was sure with or without her I would have found my stage.

In my new position, I didn't see Diana nearly enough. After moving to another office I heard through the grapevine she had been ill. Later I heard it was Cancer. By the time I went to visit her in the hospital coworkers were warning me not to go. But I had to see her no matter what.

I stopped in the gift shop on the way to her room, trying to get my thoughts together - trying to figure out what to say. The woman in the gift shop suggested a lightly packed stuffed animal. She told me people in Diana's condition often times likes to have something they can squeeze… something they can hold on to. She also indicated that people visiting ill people instinctively want to hold the patient's hand, many times contrary to the patient's wishes. A stuffed animal sometimes eases that discomfort. I picked up a cute little puppy to be gift-wrapped. The puppy worked like magic. Not only did Diana like it, but she seemed to recognize me.

A few weeks later when I went to visit a much weaker, less vibrant Diana, her daughter interrupted my introduction with - "You're the one who gave her the puppy! She really seems to love it. When she's awake she holding it. When she's sleep she holding it. When we take it out of her hand during her bath she frets until we return it. Thank you." Then I visited with her for the last time. She was holding the puppy.

Several years later, while visiting my Mom during some testing, I again found myself in a hospital gift shop. With warm memories of the impact on Diana I decided on this life like lovable furry Teddy Bear with a brown polka dot ribbon for a tie. Mom loved him. She later told me how everybody thought he was so great … so unique. Mom also informed me that when it would get cool in her hospital room at night she would sleep with him on the exposed side of her face. She named him Comfy.

Comfy came home with Mom and found a resting place on her bed. Mom didn't have many local friends (since recently relocating to move in with me) - but the ones she had saw and heard about Comfy.

Later that year, my Mom's doctor informed me that she had suffered a stroke. We were advised that she should be admitted into the hospital for further testing. I remember not being overly concerned at the time because we could see daily improvements in her condition. She asked for Comfy the night we admitted her - but I apologized I had forgotten him. I assured her that Comfy would be there the next morning - and he was.

My Mom took a turn for the worse after being admitted. Instead of getting progressively better - she got progressively worse. For the next month and one half I spent as much time as possible with her. No matter what I stayed positive. I knew she would get better. The whole time Comfy was there watching over her and keeping her company. When she hurt Comfy was there. When she slept Comfy was there. When she went down to be operated on Comfy was there. When she cried Comfy was there. When she prayed Comfy was there. When family and friends visited Comfy was there. When we sang spiritual songs together Comfy was there. When I sang spiritual songs to her because she didn't speak anymore Comfy was there. When she died Comfy was there.

Now everyday before I face the world I kneel at Mom's bed and say a prayer. I ask God to take care of her - and to give me the strength and wisdom to continue in her footsteps until I see her again. I thank God, tell my Mom I love her and kiss you.

Thank you Comfy!




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Your thoughts on 'Comfy'

I am 52 and can relate to 'Comfy' I suffer from depression and even though I have good people around me I can still feel lonely but when I cuddle up to a teddy bear I feel better.


An absolutely incredible article... actually brought me to tears... Thanks for sharing. Kim G


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