It's so strange seeing Emma Snowe's name popping up here. I suppose it was inevitable. I wonder how many others have fallen under her spell over the years and have their own stories to tell.
I knew her years ago when I doing my residency at M______ Hospital. She'd been volunteering there as candy striper while she was in college and was very popular with the staff and patients. Everyone was shocked she wasn't going into medicine. She had such a lovely and sweet demeanor about her. I mean, she cared about everyone she met. Patients, doctors, nurses, support staff...it didn't matter where you were in the hierarchy of the place, she made you feel loved and important. Actually, now that I think about it I guess she did go into medicine, if you think about the hospitals she's constructed over the years.
So for those of you who don't know, a candy striper is an old-timey term for volunteers at the hospital. Traditionally it was young women who wore candy-striped uniforms, hence the term. Emma almost always wore the same outfit, or variations of it. All in white, like a '50s era nurse but with a twist. White boots, white skirt, white blouse. Sometimes a white jacket. Maybe some silver jewelry. Oh, and a white cape that was clasped with a silver chain. Different capes actually. Sometimes a short half-cape, other times a long floor length affair that flowed behind her. Something light in the warmer months and then often a fur-lined number during the winter. It was...shocking...and fascinating. You look at woman like that and you think she must be filled with ego, but she wasn't. She was humble. Demure. And keep in mind, Emma's not a small woman. She's tall. Maybe six foot? And...well...thick, I guess. Not fat really, just thick. Big breasts. Wide hips and thick legs. Strong hands and muscled arms. But with gentlest face. Soft and round. And those crazy eyes! One blue, one green. It's hard to keep your gaze leveled at them. Plus her silver hair. It gave her an aura of maturity even at such a young age.
I asked her once why she dressed all in white like that.
"A few reasons." she replied. "One: When you see me coming, you know it's me, instantly, and then all those feelings you might associate with me, just rush into you, you know. Like if you saw Superman. You'd have an instant reaction. Two: When I was younger I hated making decisions about what to wear, so I decided with one thing and stuck with it. And three: People are less inclined to invite me to their weddings."
"Really?" I said.
She laughed. "No, I have like one non-white outfit I own just for weddings. Though I always enjoy the uncomfortable conversation when the bride has to ask me to not wear white at her wedding." She paused and ran her hands down the sides of her cape.. "Plus, and I know this sounds crazy...but I kind of like thinking of myself as a super-hero. I mean, I know it's childish, but when I was kid, I thought being a costumed hero was a real possible career path. When I put this on...it makes me want to to do good things."
"Well I think that's very admirable." I said. "Better than being a super-villain I suppose."
She looked very serious for a moment.
"I imagine there is a version of me that is a villain. Maybe that's why I try to do good things. To balance out the bad stuff the evil version of me does, or wants to do."
A beat. And then.
"But enough pontificating dear doctor!" She took me suddenly by the arm and turned us around. "On to rounds! What's happening in pediatrics today!?"
I feel guilty when I admit her touch, her closeness, gives my heart a jolt. And if I am being completely honest in this accounting, she made my pussy throb. It was exciting to be near her. To feel her joy, her love...even if it wasn't directed towards me. Now I have to state here, that in my mid 20's I was still very much into the heterosexual lifestyle. Not even a closeted bi-sexual. I mean, looking back on it now, sure, all the signs were there, but I didn't see it. I suppose growing up in a very traditional Indian household it never really was something on my radar. From early on my path was laid out. Good college, Med school, become a doctor, and sometime in that mix marry a wealthy Brahmin. Not arranged though. Though my parents had often suggested it though, setting me up with nice Indian men they knew. I suppose my resistance had been worn down as at the time I was living with a lovely young Indian man. He talked about marriage but I wasn't so sure.
Anyway, back to Emma. She'd be at the hospital a few times a week since she was still in school. A lot of times she'd spend time with patients, talking to them, reading to them, perhaps playing games with them. Sometimes she'd just sit with them a watch TV with them. Other times she'd bring in her guitar and get a sing-along going in the pediatrics, or play soft classical melodies in the background. She also knew a ton of music from 1930s and 1940s. The elderly patients loved to hear her play and often, to my surprise they'd know all the words.
"Selecting a song is easy," she told me once. "I check their age on the chart, calculate the year they graduated high-school and play something from that year."
She was also adept at magic. Nothing too flashy. Card and coin tricks. Some rope stuff. Kids loved her magic.
So one day I'm working with this young patient. Eighteen-year-old boy, broke his leg doing stupid kid stuff. And he was really uncomfortable. Restless, kind of bored, uncomfortable having his leg up, missing his friends.... Just having a real unpleasant time. So I asked Emma if she could maybe entertain him, or do something to get his mind off his problems.
So she pulls out this deck of cards, and says to me, "Watch this." And then she gave me a wink. I had other patients to see, but I was really curious but what she was going to do.
So she sat down next to Bobby (not his real name) and introduced herself. Like I said, Emma is fascinating to look at. Her outfit, her presence. People are just drawn to her. Plus, what eighteen-year-old boy wouldn't love the attention of this beautiful girl.
Then she asked if he would like to a play a little game. He agreed though I'm sure it was just so he could spend time with Emma.
So she shows him this card deck and explains to him the rules of the game. On each card is a simple task. If the task is written black you have to do the task. If the task is written red, you have to the opposite of the task. She ran though some examples with him slowly. She pulled a card off the top of the deck and showed it to him. She said: "Make a fist!" And I guess the card was black because that's what he did. "Very good." she said. "I'll bet you've played this game Let's try another."
She pulled another card of the deck. She said, "Raise your right hand in the air!" And he did. Another black card.
Next card. "Lower your right hand!" And he started to, but then he stopped, catching himself. Red card.
"Ehhh! Remember, red card means do the opposite! So what's the opposite of lowering your right hand?"
"Leaving it up?" he asked.
"Yes, that would work." she replied. "Let's try a few more."
She ran through another few cards. This time he got each one perfect. I'd watch him react, or not react as she called each one.
"Point your finger at the window!"
"Tug your left earlobe!"
Then she began to run through the cards faster, speeding up after each card.
