How Far Have I Really Come?

cmo421

I was just a child when I became an RN. Not yet 20 and in charge of a 42 pt unit at night. Many a night I held the hand of a dying person, cleaned the still warm body of a just passed pt, medicated and medicated the dying pt in pain. Often calling a physician, waking him, to plead for more meds for a pt in obvious discomfort. It always seemed so easy. It was my job, my vocation, and my livelyhood.

One particular patient comes to mind. Admitted for anemia, she was soon diagnosed with a leaking AAA. She was on a regular med/surg floor due to stable status on admit. She was 70 and had a big family and had had a great life. She gently told her family, she did not want surgery. She knew she would die, and soon. She asked all to go home and remember her as they last saw her. Sitting up in bed, smiling, telling each what they had meant to her. It was late by then. I was rounding and found her awake reading. She put her book down and said she would sleep now. Saying goodnight, after asking her if she needed me to do anything for her, I held her hand and squeezed lightly, then smiled and said goodnight, turning the light off. I knew I was the last face she would see, the last hand she would hold. I had did what she wanted. It was good.

Many nurses and doc's were angry at her decision to die. Not I, I thought it was brave and courageous. She wished to leave as she came, peacefully and dreaming, as a child leaves the womb.

When a family member of mine was ill, I had no problem stepping in and advocating for them. Making sure I used my "in" to get them the best of the best in my world of medicine. Always seeming so easy. Being caught up in the melodrama of someone in need.

Many years later, my Mother, the very powerful, always in control Mother I had, became ill. To us it was sudden. But to her, she knew. All Summer long she suffered in silence, hiding OTC meds around to ease her access to pain relief. One day, in the right light, I saw jaundice, I knew then. Within in days she was hospitalized and diagnosed. Taking her home, again, involved in the family drama, and need, I thought I could do this. I have done it hundreds of times before.

Not less then a week later, I called the hospice nurse, asking who am I medicating here, me or her. That voice on the other end of the phone, gave me the strength to continue. Not as strong as I thought I was, I became uncertain in the last moments of her life. The last person to medicate her prior to her death, was me. I became a child again. That nurse so good in the acceptance of someone's end of life, had become the child, anguished at being the medicator that facilitated pain control, but had also, possibly facilitated her own Mother's death.

We become so bound in our professional ethics and beliefs overtime. Thinking that we can withstand the worst and recover from any shift. Yet when the moment hits home, we become, or I did, that child,uncertain and looking for a Nurse to ease my uncertainty.

Christine

How Far Have I Really Come?

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