A Glass of Prune Juice

florence2012, BSN, RN

Sundays are usually pretty good days at my nursing home. Church people come and hold a little service with singing and piano playing. The CAN's don't have showers to give. Someone will usually bring the nursing staff some kind of treat, like doughnuts or pigs in a blanket. The atmosphere is just a little bit relaxed and residents and staff are in a bit of a weekend mood.

So yesterday, I couldn't figure out why a cloud had come in the door with me and stayed steadily on my shoulders throughout the morning. I was a little tired, yes, and more vigilant than usual to not make a mistake or overlook anything. And getting out the door had been a little hectic. But nothing I could really put my finger on. It was a blue day for me.

I went about my duties, filling out a summary for a returning resident, speaking with her husband, whose heart was breaking with grief at her change in mental status. While finishing up a treatment for a resident who has recently moved into the room with her brother, trying to get out of there and go help serve lunch trays, the woman broke down right there. I tidied up her bedside table and went to her and hugged her. I didn't do much, just listened to her, but it took a while, and I knew the other nurse was serving trays by herself.

When I left that room, the cloud that had settled over my day completely took over my mood. I looked around at all these sad, sick and dying people and my heart seemed to grow cold. I just didn't want to do it anymore. They're not going to get better. There will be constant grief and sadness over lost loved ones, lost homes, lost routines. I suddenly, for the first time in my career, felt that I didn't care anymore. The little compartment in my brain where I store all the unpleasantness at my job was full. I had no more room for these people, and I felt terrible about it.

The guilt was almost worse than the cold feelings and numbness I was feeling. I truly did not know how I would make it through until my lunch break, much less find the strength to return here.

But just as I was berating myself in my mind, another little voice said, Terry, look down at your hand.

I did. I was carrying a cup of prune juice that I had had to fight for in the kitchen, and then had to warm up in the lounge because it was against the rules to do it in the kitchen. The prune juice was a special request for Mrs. W on hall 400.

The little voice said, if you don't care, why do you have that in your hand?

Ah, what a gift from that little voice! I learned a lesson that day. The lesson is that a nurse's feelings might not always be in sync with her calling. She might not have her heart in what she is doing at certain moments. And that's okay.

I realized that the methods and standards I set for myself will always rule the day. They will keep me going. They helped me establish good habits, like saying, you're welcome, with a smile. Like allowing rude comments to go right over my little nurse's head. Like making extra trips down a very long hallway so that one little lady can have her warmed up prune juice.

My feelings are important, but they needn't have any influence on my work or my residents. Feelings come and go. It's the habit of kindness, the habit of service I established early on that is constant. Those I count on, every day.

A Glass of Prune Juice

About florence2012, BSN, RN

More Like This