In a message dated 5/12/03 2:17:25 AM Eastern Daylight Time, [log in to unmask] writes:
I posted a few days ago with some silly musings on Prufrock that were mostly the result of an idle week spent nursing a hand fresh from surgery. You see, I had printed Prufrock out and brought it with me to the hospital on my day of surgery, reasoning that it would be easier to deal with a few sheets of paper rather than lugging along a book. As it happened, I was more or less talked into doing the surgery with local anasthetic. This was a grave mistake on my part, but it allowed for me to be fully awake on the operating table whilst the surgery proceeded behind a curtain. With my free hand, I continued to read through Prufrock chuckling at the irony of those too-famous first lines, trying to say calm while all sorts of ungodly noises and proclamations came from the vicinity of my now numbed limb.
At some point, the nurse who would ordinarily have been the anesthesiologist’s assistant, but instead sat idly watching my heart rate and blood pressure became curious and asked me if I was reading a letter. I replied that I was reading poetry, and ended up reciting a bit of the poem to her. She loved it. I returned later in the week and left a collection with a nice note.
So who says that nurses and Eliot don’t meet in the course of day to day work?
Even when the hospital is for animals.
A few years ago, my cat was hospitalized and near her was a dog named Marina. I was preparing a presentation on Eliot's poem and attached a copy of it on the cage. Her owners hadn't known the poem and were very pleased to have it.