There’s Power in Water

I was never a long-term memoirist, or keeper of diaries. I did that once, some 35 years ago, when I was trying to find out who I was. A box of yellow pads later, I was no closer to a discovery than when I had begun, so I abandoned that particular search and moved on with life. Life always reveals more about ourselves than the dredging up of memories and bones out of the past.

As promised, I won’t bore you with memories of my recent hospital experience. As far as I know, everyone has had hospital experiences, which I have discovered are not always pleasant and sometimes comedic. Mostly it’s best to appreciate what hospitals do, and leave it at that. Besides, nobody wants to hear your experiences anyway.

Besides the mind-numbing, second-by-second life that creeps by, broken by constant interruptions for blood, ekg’s, vitals and attempts to gorge you with disgusting vanilla pudding, life in the place has a rhythm all of its own. I think it’s safe to say that one of two things happen there—death or release. But whichever, one never emerges the same as they went in. Neither did I this time.

The nursing staff at Southwest Georgia Medical Center was superb. It takes a special person to do that job. I have a deeper respect for them today. Deborah was a nurse’s assistant, and her job was to take my vital signs. In and out at regular intervals she’d come. Rotund, jolly and near my age, she seemed determined not to let the hospital environment get her or her patients depressed. She did that by exercising her innate, effervescent personality.

“Helloooooo, Mr. Hearn,” she’d sing out as she entered the room. “How are you today? Are you feeling better? You look great. You’ll soon be going home.” Most of the time I felt neither good nor that I was ever going home again, but her cheery voice made me want to. She’d always ask if I wanted some water.

“What’s with the water business, Deborah?” I asked. “Lordy, Lordy, Mr. Hearn, don’t you know? There’s power in water.” I had to let that sink in. “What do you mean, Deborah?” I asked. As if on a stage, she would strut around, pretending to be in a shower, rubbing her tummy, and singing “Amazing Grace.” She continued, “Now, if you’re thirsty, you can drink anything, but nothing quenches thirst like water. And if a baby cries, you can put it in a tub of warm water, and it goes to sleep. There’s power in water.” Who could argue that?

She would dance out as cheery as she danced in, and I must admit there were a couple of times I wondered what she had been mixing with her water. But with nothing to do but watch the second hand on the massive overhanging clock, and yield some blood from time to time, I gave the idea some consideration.

True, there is power in water. Just think about the fact that most of the world, and the human body, for that matter, is made up of water. Nothing survives without it. Think of the oceans and large rivers that carry commerce, that turn electrical turbines, rains that wash clean the earth, holy waters for baptizing, waters that quench the earth’s burning crust and the everyday uses we make of water. Truly, it has power.

What is the greatest power of water I questioned? Notwithstanding the great powers of water, which are undeniable, the one essential dynamic that supersedes all others is that water has the unique ability to “get small.” That’s right, to get small, to permeate. There’s not a microbe living on this planet that does not require water for its survival. And water has the ability to answer to that essential, universal need.

Thank you, Deborah, for reminding me that there’s power in water. I’m passing it on. Amen!

Bud Hearn
April 15, 2010