It is not easy to switch roles. Especially if one has been in their particular role for a couple of decades. It just doesn’t feel “right” to be the patient. I did not like it, not one bit. To make matters worse, I was a patient in my own hospital.
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I had an elective orthopedic procedure requiring a three day stay. "Elective" is a bit of a stretch- a joke actually. I guess there are some superhuman people who could walk around without any cartilage on the lateral side of their knee, but I am not one of them. Tired of the pain and limping, I finally consented to a total knee replacement at the tender age of 43.
I begged to be put on my own Telemetry Unit although I do not have any cardiac issues. My rational was that I would give up at little anonymity and be around people I actually work with because at least I would know something about the skill level of my caregivers. Call me crazy but I have been doing this for a while. Not trying to be insensitive but some do make you wonder where in the heck they received their diplomas. You know the type. Asking to be placed on the Tele Unit was a gamble because we rarely get total knee patients with a CPM (continuous passive motion). I am not even going to address our lack of knowledge regarding nerve blocks (gulp!) But, I figure if I can get over the embarrassment and shock of my backside hanging out of those lovely gowns, perhaps they can too! Hopefully, it wouldn't require too many counseling sessions on a comfy couch.
There was a shimmer of hope in my warped rationale about my room assignment. As the Unit Educator, I have done many in-services on my Telemetry unit. I recalled doing one on CPMs about 6 months before and wondered if any that attended would be my nurse? My hopes were suddenly dashed as I remembered the low turn out. Poor attendance despite all my brilliant efforts. I advertised well in advance with colorful clever posters. I offered it numerous times during the day and night. Lastly, I had bowls of chocolate that I brought as a... well...bribe. Even chocolate couldn't reel them in.
Certainly a sharp skillful nurse was a top priority but also I wanted to assure I would get a nurse who had some compassion. It is ironic to think about nurses in our profession who do not possess this one attribute but, sadly, I have worked a few. I know that there are days when staffing, patient load and needy families with unbearable patients make this almost impossible but a girl can hope, can't she? So, let me add all this up. I guess I was hoping for skillful nurse with a kind face who had an empathetic nature with a manageable patient load without lots of family and visitors around. It could happen, right? (Eye roll)
What if my plan didn't work out? What if the opposite occurred? What if THAT nurse was assigned to me? The one you loathed to work with. The one that you actually felt sorry for her patients and would spend the next day cleaning up the mess and doing some serious customer service butt kissing to undo all the things she didn't do. What on earth was I going to do then? I decided that if someone did get assigned to me that didn't meet my 'expectations' I would scream at them to get the (blank) out of my room and then later just blame it on the narcotics or say I had some sort of post-anesthesia delirium. It just might work.
I am happy to say that my surgery went as planned without any complications (other than that one time that I had to use the bathroom during shift change). I was pleasantly surprised that the house supervisor had a master plan of her own. She pulled a Med Surg nurse who had lots of orthopedic experience to our unit to take care of me that night after surgery. I was rather loopy from the morphine PCA so I doubt I would've even been able to tell if it was a nurse taking care of me or a giraffe in scrubs. I received great care. My privacy was respected and hardly anyone saw my backside.
I do feel terribly sorry for the kitchen staff though. Having to make and serve terrible food day in and day out must do something to your psyche. I was on a regular diet too! I don't even want to think of what a cardiac or renal diet tastes like.
This turned out to be a good experience for me. No doubt, I will remember my stay when I am back on the floor again caring for patients. I will listen to their concerns attentively despite having already stood in the doorway for 15 minutes trying to slowly make my escape. I will be sympathetic when they lift their lids from their dinner trays and turn up their noses in disgust. I promise to faithfully continue to assure no backsides are hanging out while traveling. Heck, I may not even complain when someone calls to go to the bathroom during shift change.
