Can I ask you a question?

Here’s but one story from my storied career.

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Once, upon a time, I worked in a CVICU (CardioVascular Intensive Care Unit) in Greenville, MS – a predominately Black populated area, with high poverty, and all the problems that come along for that ride.

A patient came to us from a SNF (Skilled Nursing Facility, i.e., Nursing Home), and was refusing to communicate/talk with staff. I became his Nurse. He was a Black gent, and I cared for him just like I would for anyone else – with dignity, and empowering them to make decisions regarding their care.

I was working 7-on/7-off, 12-hour overnights. And if you don’t think that’ll take the life out of you, think again. It took at least 2 days just to recover.

At any rate, one night, as I began my care for him, he said to me (and he was NOT talkative, at all!), “Can I ask you a question?”

I said, “Sure!,” and sat down on his bed. He was seated in the recliner.

He looked at me and asked, “Are you Black?”

I was quiet, thought for a moment, and said, “Well… my Daddy’s White, and his folks are White; my Mama’s White, and her folks are White… so, I guess I’m White. Why do you ask?”

He said to me, “You’re the coolest White guy I’ve ever met.”

That was the crown of my existence!