Sunbonnet Soliloquy

By Jewell Ellen Smith

Get-Well Cards Make a Difference

In all my seventy years -- until this last summer, that is -- I had never received but two get-well cards. Why? I didn’t need them. I was never sick.

Then came a fine morning in May, when I woke up in the Intensive Care Unit of Fort Rucker’s Lyster Hospital, where I needed plenty of get-well cards and letters. And they arrived -- 122 of them -- from May until July, when I finally got to go home.

The cards made a difference. There were all kinds, sizes and shapes. They were bright and colorful, with pictures of roses and daisies and dogwood, and hearts and flowers, ducks and teddy bears, and rainbows and sea shells. Even Clowns.

The cards bore captions that said: “Get-Well Thoughts, Get-Well Wishes, A Get-Well Message, A Get-Well Prayer,” and just plain “Get-Well Soon.”

Two of the cards were computer-made, by individuals. So, they were personalized. One read: “To a Jewell Among the Flowers: Our Wish for You Is: To Be Your Old Self Again!” Ah, that sounded good to me!

The second computer card declared: “A Whole Lot of People Are Thinking About You, Hurry Up and Get Well. We Love You.” And this was signed by teachers and pupils of the Ft. Rucker Vacation Bible School.

There is something very touching -- especially to an old lady with a fever -- about getting cards or letters from children. Two little girls in Arkansas wrote letters, two Virginia boys and their seven-year-old sister sent cards and notes, and another fine youngster in Florida wrote to me.

It wasn’t so much what the get-well cards and letters said as it was what they meant which made the difference. To me, they meant that a great many people cared about my getting well. Thus, I thought, I must be worth something!

The doctor had said, and I quote him verbatim, “Mrs. Smith, if you don’t eat, you’re going to die. It’s that simple.” And with that announcement, he began some five weeks of intensive medication and care.

At morning and night, seven days a week the doctor (Capt. Greg Rucker) was there. Around the clock, the nurses came running. Too often, I thought then, they carried needles and pills and IV bags in their hands. But they came, and did what had to be done with much kindness. And the kitchen crew sent up delicious meals, even milkshakes for breakfast. And more shakes in between meals. Never before had I eaten, or tried to eat, so much. I surely didn’t want to die.

(Husband) Smitty brought me one of his homegrown tomatoes each day. Friends began sending peaches and plums, melons, baskets of fruit and candy and cake and cheese. And, all the flowers. There were 14 lovely bouquets. And there were 18 other gifts and favors such as books of poems and short stories and essays, and cologne and pajamas and balloons and little birds.

One was a little yellow bird, and attached to her nest, with ribbons and streamers, was a balloon which said: “Get Well Soon.” And there was a plump little blue bird, sitting in a mossy nest surrounded by exotic live plants.

After a couple of weeks we were able to take down the “No Visitors” sign from my door. Then, the friends began to come. What a delight! One day, when I had nothing to do but look at the ceiling, I began to count up just how many had called. There had been 59 people in to see me. (And during my convalescence at home more came.) That was fantastic! I had never realized I had 59 friends!

There were many phone calls, which I greatly appreciated.

But back to the cards. Each carried a printed message; however, it was the hand-written notes on each which touched my heart -- and it was the heart which was the problem.

One note said: “I love you and God loves you.”

Another declared: “We miss you in so many ways.”

A third had this line: “The Good Book says God watches when a sparrow falls. You’re worth far more than a sparrow!”

Still others said: “Mercy, I am so sad to hear you aren’t up to par, but with your spirit and courage, I know you will soon be fine... We’re all praying for you... Keep the Faith... I know it’s rough, but the weeks will pass... Don’t lose patience... Hope that you are continuing to improve-- Know that your spirits are high because you are you! ...You are in my prayers for strength and health...”

Now about prayers, six chaplains were among my visitors and five of them said prayers beside my bed. (The venerable Col. Ervin L. Shirey, Ret., who was Ft. Rucker Center Chaplain back in the 60s, came one day and found me back in ICU. He said: “Jewell, we’ll just have to pray a little bit harder!”)

Well, it was the prayers and the penicillin, the skill and care of the personnel at Lyster Hospital, and the love and concern of family and friends -- plus those cards -- which pulled me through a long illness.

Now, I know the value of get-well cards. They make a difference.

Published October 1986. Click your browser’s “Back” button to return.