Word: jimming
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...time I arrived, Jim was delivering a dozen shakes three times a week, a cost he absorbed for months until a group of VA colleagues chipped in for McDonald's gift certificates just before the holidays. About the same time, Jim had befriended a Vietnam vet and Washington restaurateur named Hal Koster, who offered to host Walter Reed patients at his Fran O'Brien's Stadium Steakhouse, located in the basement of the downtown Capital Hilton. Jim rounded up transportation and circulated the invitation on 57. Before long, Friday nights at Fran's became a tradition. Koster drew...
...would quickly learn, Jim had a feel for combat amputees no doctor could match. He was one of us, having lost both legs to a land mine in Vietnam. He had lived through every stage of recovery and knew what we were enduring beyond the pain: identity crises, loss of self-confidence, and fears about supporting ourselves and attracting the opposite sex. Jim passed along biofeedback tips - he called the process "mind f---" - for combating the jumble of severed nerve endings called phantom pain. He coached families on the need to validate their loved ones' suffering, pulling them into...
...believed in the curing power of humor, especially slapstick. One of his favorite routines was mimicking awkward hospital volunteers who invariably said the wrong thing. When a leg amputee was convulsing in so much pain he couldn't talk, Jim handed him a chocolate shake and a three-by-five-inch index card with a scribbled message: "That will be $5. Bless you." But he mainly used treats to break the ice. After a couple of shakes, amputees were asking questions of the man who walked on two fake legs and worked for the U.S. Department of Veteran Affairs...
...visitors who were less familiar than Jim Mayer, the ward had a gatekeeper, an odd little man known as Mr. Nick. Sporting silver loops in both ears and wrapping his salt-and-pepper braids into a bun behind his head, 56-year-old James Melvin Nicholas stood out in the crew-cut, uniformed staff. The breast of his white lab coat was smothered in goodwill medals given to him by VIP guests. His accent was effeminate and Mississippian. He held the lowly title of medical support technician. But from behind the nurse's station, where he worked, everyone knew...
...Aside from a limb, the biggest loss to patients was their dignity. We were half-naked, helpless, fed from tubes, drugged, and constantly poked and prodded. Tami and Katie specialized in personal care, hoping to remind the wounded they were more than medical specimens. Jim Mayer made milk shakes his calling card because they were the last thing you'd find in a hospital; they established a personal bond, like a pitcher of beer. Jim learned everyone's favorite flavor as if he were an old drinking buddy who had bought a round at the neighborhood tavern...