My Little Old Jedi

phoenixfire

Everyone has one patient that really reminds them of why they want to be a nurse. Mine was a little old man I'll call 'Jim'. Jim was in the hospital because he fell at home, where he lived with his wife of 50+ years. He had suffered a GI bleed after eating...well, something he shouldn't have! Now, Jim was a sweet man, rarely asked for anything, but was confused. You see, he had dementia. As you probably already know, the ICU is the worst place for a dementia patient because there practically is no night and day. Just a never-ending stream of nurses and doctors, tubes and medications 24/7.

So here is Jim, a stretched out skeleton with what passes for minimal body fat that I couldn't keep warm to save my life. I had to switch out his blankets from the warmer unit every 30 minutes or so, with one always wrapped around his head like a burka. He looked like a little old Jedi sitting up in his bed, which in itself made me laugh. But what really stood out about Jim was how he reacted to me. That morning, as I usually did with our patients who are awake (read: NOT sedated), I had introduced myself to Jim and told him to push his call bell if he needed anything. He smiled a toothless grin at me from under the blanket wrapped around his head, and said, "Thanks Jenny", then promptly resumed his nap. Now, my name isn't anything close to Jenny, but I let it go because I knew that trying to convince him that I wasn't 'Jenny' would only make his confusion worse.

Since the patient load was light that day, and I had a test coming up, I sat at a bedside table at the end of the ward where I could see all the patients in the beds, and pulled out my super lightweight textbook (that 30lb thing I've been lugging around for two years), highlighters and note cards. Within about 2 minutes, another patient's call bell went off, and I jumped up dutifully to attend to her. When Jim popped his little eyes open and did not see me sitting at the end of his bed (the last one on the ward), he promptly began yelling. His nurse rushed over to see what was the matter, and he just yelled "Where's Jenny?! I want Jenny, where is she?!"

Knowing he meant me, I rushed back to the other end of the ward to calm him down. As soon as he saw me, he quieted right down. I tucked his new warm blanket in around his chin and retook my spot at the bedside table. All day long, Jim would peep his eyes open just enough to see if I was still there. As long as he could see me, he remained quiet and calm, but if he opened his eyes and I was gone, he began yelling again (which his unhappy nurse reminded me raised his blood pressure way beyond what she would like). So I spent the day within Jim's view, attending to only him and the patients in the two beds next to him.

When Jim opened his eyes, he would say "Jenny?", to which I always answered, "I'm right here luv". He would turn his head around to see me, and then smiled his toothless smile, and lay back down. We did this routine about every 20-30 minutes for the majority of the day.

At about 1600, Jim's wife came for visiting hours. She saw me sitting with my textbook at Jim's bedside, while he slept peacefully, his head covered with his Jedi blanket. She asked me how he had been that day, and I laughed as I described how I had to remain within his view all day, and how he called me Jenny. Her eyes welled up a bit, and she said to me, "I guess you do resemble me a bit when I was your age. I'm Jenny". Her tears rolled down her wrinkled face and onto her freshly pressed blouse. I did the only thing I could think of at that moment: I hugged her.

She told me that she cared for Jim at home alone because their grown children had moved off and had children of their own. How Jim had been a war hero, a faithful husband, and a loving father. As I sat there and listened to her story, I realized that in his confusion, Jim thought that I was his wife and that the reason he got upset when I got out of his view was that he missed her. She thanked me for taking such good care of him, and when she walked around his bed to lean over and kiss him hello, he smiled at her with so much love it broke my heart. Jim was more than a patient to me that day. He was a reminder of why I do what I do, the reason I decided to become a nurse in the first place. When I got home that night, I hugged my own husband and told him about my day. He didn't have to say anything, I was just glad to have him listen, to be able to talk to me and know who I was.

I probably won't ever forget Jim, or his wife (the real Jenny). He left a mark on my heart that will serve as a permanent reminder...this is what I do.

My Little Old Jedi

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