My grandma was a nurse for forty years. She had no prospect of rising very high in the hospital ranks, getting higher pay, or anything of the like. She spent decades with people in their dying moments, cleaning up after people who couldn't retain bowel control, cleaning up every kind of bodily excrement or fluid you can imagine. She worked nights most of that time, too. She never complained; she got on with the job, and she never begrudged the patients for the things they couldn't help doing, but always tried to give them whatever comfort and dignity she was able to, whether they were there for a short stay or until the bitter end.
She had four children, loved her husband until the day he died, and has pined for him every single day of the fifteen years since then. She raised me when my parents couldn't with infinite love and kindness. She has struggled with depression her whole life, and comes from a generation with far different attitudes towards it. And all this, through the Troubles, at risk of being bombed or shot or God only knows what else - indeed, several of her brother's family were killed
Shankill Road bombing - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia (The Bairds, and Michael Morrison, Michelle Baird's father). She stayed strong throughout it all, helped her brother raising his surviving grandchildren.
That's a strong woman. This nonsense about a woman who can look a man in the eye, or hold her own in a fight? I'm hardly impressed.