They Had a Certain Ring

One evening while working at Frick Hospital, I triaged an elderly woman who’d been brought in by ambulance for shortness of breath. I directed the crew to a bed. Upon returning to the triage area I asked a man of middle age who seemed to have arrived with her to join me. I needed to gather information to make her chart. I had assumed correctly that he was her son.

As I began to question him in the triage cubicle, I noticed his ring. It was a plain, thick band of gold with three diamonds imbedded deeply within the smooth metal. The top of each stone was flush with the surface of the gold band. Each stone flashed a brilliant blue-white flame beneath the overhead fluorescent lights. It was that bright sparkle that caught my attention. I couldn’t resist commenting on their beauty.

“That ring is absolutely gorgeous,” I said. “Those diamonds look fantastic.”

His ears perked up, then he said, “Oh, do you know diamonds?”

I replied, “I don’t know very much about diamonds, but I do know what I like, and that ring is just beautiful.”

He explained, “I used to be a jeweler, but I am retired now. I saved three of my favorite perfect blue-white diamonds. These three stones weigh just over three carats, and before I retired, I made them into a ring for myself, setting them in gold.”

He called another gentleman from the waiting area. “Show him your ring,” the son said. The other man held out his hand for me to see. It was another plain gold band, but less thick than the one that the jeweler was wearing. There was a single stone, but it was large blood-red ruby. It seemed to draw life from the overhead lights and a glow seemed to come from somewhere deep inside. The top of the ruby was set higher than the surface of his thinner gold band.

The jeweler said, “This was another ring that I made for my friend.”

The simplicity of each band made each stone the centerpiece. The ruby ring was just as remarkable as the diamond clad band. Both rings oozed craftsmanship and expensiveness.