My grandmother went through surgery a week ago and I’ve been visiting her in the hospital. The recovery process has been harsh, but today, it seemed like she was back to her old yapping, nagging self. (”I don’t need flowers. Take them home.” “Put my magazines in the drawer.” “They waste so much food here!”) Our family couldn’t be more relieved.

I just want to give props to nurses for being nurses. They’re amazing. Two days after my grandma’s surgery, when she was in really bad shape, a Filipino man sat in her room and watched her for, like, 12 hours straight. When she was cold, he turned up the heat. When she was lying on her back for too long, he propped her onto her side with pillows. When she was having nightmares, he talked to her. His sole job was to make sure she was OK. (He did lots of other messy stuff, too.)

And I’m just like, dang. I know it’s a job and everybody has gotta do something to pay the bills, but you really need to have a special heart to do what nurses do. I don’t think I was given one of those special hearts, but sometimes I wish I could try one for a day so that I can know what it feels like to care (like really care) about people I don’t even know, even when they’re grouchy and constipated.

Life might just be a little less complicated.