My name is Kathy H. I am thirty-one years old and I have been working as a nurse for over eleven years. It sounds like a long time, I know, but they want me to continue for another eight months, until the end of the year. That is, in total, for almost twelve years. By now I know that the fact I have been a nurse for such a long time is not necessarily because they consider me exceptional at what I do. There are some very good nurses who were asked to stop after two or three years. And I know at least one nurse who continued working for fourteen whole years, even though he was completely useless. So, I am not trying to boast. However, I do know for certain that they are satisfied with my work, and generally, so am I. My donors usually behave better than expected. Their recovery time has been impressive and rarely has any of them been labeled a “troublemaker,” even before the fourth donation. Okay, maybe now I am boasting. Still, it means a lot to me to be able to do my job well, especially that part of “reassuring” my donors.
I have developed an instinct in my relationship with them. I know when to be nearby and calm them, when to leave them alone; when to listen to what they have to say and when to shrug my shoulders and tell them to pull themselves together quickly. Anyway, I am not claiming to be anything special. I know some nurses who are just as good and no one recognizes their contribution. If you are one of them, I understand how you might feel bitter – about the apartment, about the car, and especially about the fact that I can choose whom I care for. In addition, I attended Hailsham – that alone is enough to make some people stand to attention. Kathy H., they say, has the right to choose and always picks people from her own crowd: people from Hailsham or from other privileged institutions.