Giving Back
Ask any nurse why they chose their profession, and you’re likely to hear that they want to “give back and help people.” Honestly, that wasn’t my reason at first. Becoming a nursing assistant was only something to help myself. However, certain things happened that changed my entire perspective. I never dreamed of being a nurse. That all changed when, I met Diane and George. These two patients of mine didn’t even know each other, but together they transformed my attitude.
At the age of five, I was diagnosed with glaucoma and uvities in my left eye. As a result of these diseases, I had a total of 12 painful surgeries to stabilize my conditions and save my eye. As a child I avoided facing my horrible doctor visits with my various medical conditions. Over the years of going to and from eye clinics, I learned to love being around people who wanted to help me. Growing up, as a result of the many medical bills that my parents were faced with, I was uncomfortably aware of the importance of having a job with a decent income. Money and being successful is all I wanted out of a future career. So, I decided to declare my major as Nursing. While going to school, I was told that becoming a nursing assistant will help achieve a lot of ground work of becoming a successful nurse. I became a nurse’s aide and took the first job that I could find.
Diane was fifty two years old when she was admitted to my nursing home unit in room number four. She captivated me with her sweet spirit and adorable wigs. Diane was the queen of gossip celebrities. I would often find myself disturbing her daily fix of People magazines and Entertainment T.V. Cancer treatments had taken years off her life. The cancer forced her into a nursing home at an unusually young age. Diane’s doctor assessed her and it was decided she was going to be put on the hospice program. Diane’s family quickly objected and become hysterical because she was going to quickly pass. The patient and family are included in the hospice care plan, which focuses on spiritual, emotional and practical needs depending on the wishes of the patient and the family members. Her treatment consisted of antibiotics and supportive care. For the next few weeks, I handled her oxygen and took on her needs as my own responsibility. Explaining the unfamiliar procedures to her daughters in a professional manner was very hard to face. I missed the Nurses meeting with Diane and her family to clarify and reinforce her diagnostic tests. Her daughters kept asking if there was a chance of recovery. I explained to them there is a slim chance but the doctors and nurses readings feel that she is not going to make it through to the next day. As Diane’s aide, I set her in a private room so her family could come and go as they pleased with the privacy they desired. I accomplished bathing, repositioning and charting at her bedside by request. Devoting my full attention to Diane and her family, I remember her so well because I thought I was giving her the best care I’d ever given anyone.
Within a week, to everyone’s astonishment, Diane’s final tests came back with normal counts and she was discharged. Diane left, the family was gone and the room was made ready for my next patient. I did note to myself that regardless of all my efforts, the family had never even thanked me! I guess they probably didn’t realize the vast involvement I’d made to Diane’s recovery, but after all, I’d just been doing my job. Although it did bother me, I tried to let it go because there was a new patient on their way that would need my help.
George was my new patient in room number four. He was a sixty five year-old man with a discrete background of alcoholism and tobacco abuse. He was admitted at the crack of dawn, I was told he was going to be here over a short period of time for some rehabilitation from hip surgery. I though George’s case couldn’t be as difficult as my last. George was aggravated, dirty, and had a fowl mouth. He looked to have greater need for a bath than for any rehab right away. I wondered why on earth would he have to be in my unit. Since I was working a double shift for that day, I asked all the assistances on that shift to switch patients. None wanted to deal with him either. I had already got spit on, and dealt with his verbal nonsense all morning; I couldn’t go another eight hours with him. I ended up cleaning George from head to toe. No family members occupied George; his cigarettes seemed to do the trick for most of the day. His care didn’t have any real challenge, I reinforced that his choice of words were unacceptable and connected him to oxygen according to protocol. Hours later he finally settled down. As George slept, I assessed his behavior and stayed away. In contrast to Diane, who had been out of it most of her stay, George was extremely rude. Yelling profanities and pulling his oxygen tubing off every time I reapplied, he pulled the sheets off the bed along with his clothing.
The next day of work, room number four was empty. I was told that he didn’t belong in my particular unit, but to a more basic rehab unit. Even better, I found a surprise waiting for me at the front desk of the nurses’ station. There were two dozen wild flowers in a vase and a sparkly card with my name on it. The vase was full of bright colored purple daises, sunflowers, and fancy white primroses. The flowers smelled wonderful, it was sweet to my soul.
I wasn’t dating anyone at the time, so I was curious of who had sent me flowers. Then it dawned on me, Diane’s parents finally remembered to thank me. I was in for an even bigger surprise when I opened the card. The vase of wild flowers weren’t from Diane’s parents after all. With humiliation I still feel as I write this today, I learned that they’d come from George, the very patient I’d been avoiding the night before. In the pink sparkly card, he apologized for his condition the night before and thanked me for the wonderful care I’d given to him. Ordering flowers for me must have been the first thing he had done after transferring to another unit.
George’s thoughtfulness marked a turning point in my career as an assistant. Treating George not like a human being, I had self consciously been ranking people on whether or not they “deserved” my special care. From that very moment, I realized that I hadn’t given Diane good care either. I was treating her like a disease not like a person, but going through the motions of caring for Diane and not the emotions. That’s why her family members hadn’t thanked me. I have such a clear memory of the beautiful flowers to this day. I’ve grown much as an assistant and have taken a professional and empathetic approach ever since. I learn and grow everyday from working with different types of people. While going to school to become a nurse, not only wanting it for budget reasons, but to help people and give back. Working as a nurses’ assistant, patients like Diane and George have helped me to become more selfless. Now it’s my turn to thank them.
