Go with the flow
Trip Start
Jan 28, 2010
1
20
Trip End
Jul 20, 2010
Dschang, Ouest, Cameroon
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
So lately I've made a major break-through in my life. One thing that was always in my head in Nursing was that you took care of your patients, but you never got involved emotionally. I remember one of my nursing supervisors telling me after my first death and seeing me clearly shaken: "You shouldn't get too involved with your patient." I knew as a nurse, you hold your patients hands through some of the hardest moments of their life, but I thought that was it - you just hold their hand, much like you give someone a card for someone's death.
This week, I was reading a book called the Zen of Helping. It's a way for healthcare practitioners to be present with their clients and patients. There are so many times when we are faced with an uncomfortable situation that we often give some half-assed solution, greeting ("It'll all be okay."), just to let the person know that we care, but then we move on, never even processing the other's situation in our own hearts. I thought to myself, "what if, I allow myself to process their hurt?" This is some risky business, particularly since we are choosing to be vulnerable, with little payback.
I was the head nurse for the Men's and Women's Ward: a total of roughly 40 patients. I was receiving the report from the nursing coming off shift (for simplicity's sake, we'll call her Jane) - she had mentioned that one of her patients had died. The way she described the scenario was unbelievable: he had come to greet them at the Nurses' station, in a state of contentment, and thanked the Nurses for the wonderful service they had given him. He turned around, was walking back to his room, and at the foot of his door, he dropped dead. He was a young man too - roughly in his early 30s. The head nurse was completely shocked, and she herself was processing this recent incident.
A few minutes later, a little girl came up to me, and spoke in deep Pidgin. I couldn't understand what she was saying, so I asked someone to translate. "Nurse, someone's dying." Jane and I ran to the Men's ward: there was one of my patients, gasping for air. Hydrocortisone stat - oxygen stat - run lactated ringer's - raise the head of the bed - and finally, in the end he died. Jane just stood there - completely in shock. She had seen another one of her patients die - a patient who was just discharged that morning. I didn't know what to say - usually, I'd just stand there, feel awkward, bite my lip or say some kind thing - but today, I promised just to be there. I let myself feel the things she was feeling - sad, surprised, upset, failure and more. I didn't have the answers, nor did I need them, I just needed to share in her personal suffering. Afterwards, I said I would wrap the body, and she turned to me and said, "Good shift. We're together." The words warmed inside of me.
Later on that day, a few men came to me and asked me to open up the Mortuary for a body, recently as of late. The man had fallen off a coconut tree and immediately died. The Junior nurse working the same shift came to ask who the man was and upon hearing his name, she let out a loud scream, began to cry and frantically ran out of the room. "What happened?" I asked. The man who had died I was told, was her uncle. Yet again, another difficult situation that didn't need me, but just needed my compassion, understanding and presence. I let her go and cry.
In the nighttime, we had a case of a man who had been stabbed by thieves in his house. He had been slashed in the throat, and sliced in the hand, enough to tear the extensor tendons clean off the hand and forearm (may I add, GROSS). I was observing the surgery, when I saw the door open - it was the mother - who had just wanted to see what was happening (let me remind you, this is AFRICA, and visitors are in NO WAY allowed to enter in a US OR!) and I rushed her out. The little she had seen had been too much for her, she became frantic. I thought to myself, if my son had been stabbed by thieves, I would probably react the same, if not worse. She started to yell, cry and I just held her until she calmed down. In my Pidgin, I said "Mami, he go finish small time. I no be na big worka, i be small. He go finish small time. You no fear."
I realized how important it is for us, especially as nurses, not to have the answers, because many times there isn't any. And maybe it's not the answers or cures that people want, it's just someone understands their suffering or someone who is just willing to be there with them as their world falls apart.
