On hand holding....

When I initially decided to go back to school it never occurred to me that patient experiences in school would have as much impact on my view of medicine, nursing and life as they have. A few, in particular, will never leave my memory.

Today I was reminded of a man I cared for some time ago...he was about my father's age and hospitalized. Some of his organs were failing and he was experiencing some forgetfulness and confusion about where he was and why. I was assigned to him and after looking at his chart I approached his room which was somewhat busy...I stood in the doorway watching the lab tech take his blood. It occurred to me that she may think he was completely dilusional when I realized she was ignoring him and not answering his questions. He was crying out in pain and completely ignored... Some of her practices were questionable and the way in which she went about her procedure suggested little care for this patient. I felt defensive of him and wanted to say something to her but...as a nursing student it isn't likely it would have carried much weight or helped the patient. Another gentleman approached me from the hall and asked if this patient was Mr. M, the man he was looking for. I acknowledged it was and suggested we wait until those attending him had finished their task.

Shortly thereafter we walked in together and I greeted Mr. M and let him know who I was and that I'd be assessing him today. I also mentioned that his friend, and pastor, was here for a visit. Mr. M's eyes welled up with tears at the sight of his friend, whom he readily recognized. He looked up at me from his bed, face full of relief, and said "we've been friends for 40 years...our kids grew up together....he's a true friend" The pastor chatted with Mr. M and then asked if I wouldn't mind that they prayed...I assured him I'd love to join them and that it would be fine. The tears continued to flow as they prayed and the sweetest presence of the Lord filled an otherwise empty and rather stark hospital room. I had a hard time holding back my own tears....when the prayer was over, Mr. M looked up at me and asked if I was a believer...I told him I was and he cried again. He went on to share how grateful he was...how alone he had been and how scared and yet how overwhelmed at the goodness of God for bringing other believers to his bedside so he wouldn't have to walk this road alone. I held his hand and listened to stories about his children and shortly thereafter the confusion set in again...just as quickly as it seemed to have lifted. "Where am I? I mean...which hospital?" he asked.... "Oh, yes...how long have I been here?" My heart sank knowing that his prognosis wasn't good and at the same time I was comforted by the reminder of a very personal and very loving God...one who will cross the depths to reach us...even just one of us...where we are. Mr. M's tear-stained eyes will never leave my memory, and I hope some day I can greet him again...with a restored body and mind. I'm so grateful to have shared in the work God had in mind that day...it was much more than listening to hearts and lungs, that's for certain! I hope that in my journey to care for others as a profession, I never become callous or too busy to truly care for patients. A difficult task, no doubt.