There exists a man, nay, a legend who walked the halls of NYU Hospital. Armed with a case full of needles, his visits no doubt instilled fear is those who crossed his path. He walked into the room, and everyone knew why he was there. There was going to be blood.

This man was none other than A. Fluffy Bunny.

No really, that’s his name. He legally changed his name to A. Fluffy Bunny. He was a part of the team that put IVs into people at NYU Hospital, and he was the sweetest man I have ever met, so much so, that to this day almost two years later I still remember him. Not only do I remember him, but every NYU staff person that I have come across knows of, or has heard of, A. Fluffy Bunny. I didn’t know that was his name at the time when he put an IV in me so I could get a CT scan. But I learned on my recent visits to NYU about the man that is A. Fluffy Bunny.

Six AM is as good a time as any to get an IV, if that is the predicament one is in. After trying, rather painfully, and after I waited rather patiently, to have two nurses attempt to put an IV into my right hand, I said to them, “You know, you have a whole team of people who do this.” The nurses thankfully stopped their pursuit of my fugitive hand vein and called in someone from their IV team.

Two taps on the left side of my wrist, “Yep, there it is.” Said the IV technician. She swiftly and rather painlessly inserted the IV as I looked on. I had been poked and prodded so much in the past week that this didn’t faze me in the least. “You know,” I started “I remember a guy, and elderly gentlemen with a pony tail. He did IVs too, and he put one in when after I delivered my daughter. He was so sweet and kind.”

“Oh, you mean A. Fluffy Bunny.”

I slowly looked at the technician, looked at my IV, then back at the technician. What did she put in there? Was I due for dose of morphine? I don’t remember asking for morphine. Or maybe it was lack of sleep and all the stress from the hospital stay.

“Say what now?”

“Fluffy Bunny. He legally changed his name when he turned 50. His name used to be Ames. He was wonderful, one the best at what he did. Whenever someone couldn’t find a vein on a patient, he could. He retired a few years ago.”

My interest was piqued. From then on, I asked nearly every staff member I came across about this Mr. A. Fluffy Bunny.

“Sure, I remember him, nice guy.”

“Yes, Fluffy Bunny. Did he really retire a few years ago? I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah, Fluffy Bunny, great guy.”

Here’s the most remarkable thing about A. Fluffy Bunny – everyone had kind words to say about him, including me, and our interaction lasted maybe 5 minutes.

It is no small feat, to impart a sense of loving and kindness onto someone is a short amount of time. An individual capable of this is already exuding with loving and kindness themselves, before they even say a word. This is the kind of presence I not only seek to be in the company of, but seek to become myself.

I’m not sure how he did it, but A. Fluffy Bunny left his mark on the world that left people better off than when he found them, and this is a guy who stuck needles into people for a living.

So here’s to a world of A. Fluffy Bunnies. Here’s to becoming one myself. May you find yourself surrounded by all types who give you the feeling that A. Fluffy Bunny did for me.