Yesterday, I had a procedure in the hospital scheduled. As luck would have it, Vancouver was hit by heavy and very wet snow (for Vancouver, that is, where the city is never prepared) the night before.
I had a miserable, terrible start to my day. I was 45 minutes late to my appointment even though I factored in an extra 75 minutes for travel (I did call ahead to apologise), every item of my clothing failed me, and by the time I reached the hospital, I was a soaking, dripping, shivering, miserable puppy.
I walked to the counter to register, bracing myself for a scolding. Instead, when the nurses saw me, they ushered me to a bed, practically stripped me off of my wet clothes and proceeded to wrap me up with layers of warm blankets from the oven. They even brought me two portable heaters that blew hot air, one to heat my feet and another to dry my clothes.
I apologised for being so late, but they all said, "it's OK, hon / Daphne." It was clear their only concern was to warm me up.
Thanks to them, I slept like a baby who had been fed and swaddled.
My mum was right: if you want to heal people, be a doctor. But if you want to comfort people, be a nurse. They're both important in many different ways, but they complement each other, for neither can function without the other.