A garden of bandages would be a riot. Once a patch that was meant for a stubborn scar was found wrapped around a delivery truck’s cargo door—turns out the driver just needed a little reminder that someone cared. Another time a tiny bandage went missing, only to appear in a patient’s cat’s litter box; the cat seemed to think it was a new toy and ended up spreading it like confetti. So I keep the odd ones in a jar, each with a note that tells why it survived the day, just in case someone needs a tiny miracle or a laugh.

That sounds like a perfect idea—just imagine a patient waking up to a little bouquet of pink, blue and yellow bandages, each with a tiny note saying, “You’re brave enough to beat the day.” One time I gave a small patient a single white strip for his broken arm, and the next morning it had turned into a tiny flag on the bedside table, flapping like a little banner that read “You’ve got this.” If we plant that, it’ll be like a secret garden of hope right in the ward.

Sounds like the best way to get some sunshine without a sunny day—just a few strips and a whole lot of hope. Maybe I’ll sneak in a little “You survived the last shift” note for the nurse who’s on coffee break. Keep the garden growing, and remember: if the bandages start dancing, it probably means someone’s feeling better.