When my sister got very sick on her second round of chemo for colon cancer, she spent weeks in the hospital. Her first two ICU nurses were complete opposites- and both of them inspired me in my journey to become a nurse.
NursesAnnouncementsArchiveArticle
It was the worst of times. My 42 year old sister's first couple chemo treatments for colon cancer went so smoothly, we were all surprised when she woke up unable to hold anything in either way, in pain. She was placed into the ICU, since they had only one other patient in the unit at that rural hospital. We were told not to visit if sick.
Since I also had stomach cramps and diarrhea, I stayed away for the four days it took to get over it, feeling guilty that perhaps I had somehow shared it with her, or given her food poisoning, since I was cooking for her family.
When I finally got to suit, glove and mask up to see her, it was such a relief to see her faint smile, even though she was sallow and gray, hardly able to open her eyes, let alone sit up. I asked how she had been. Not so good.
She asked me to please put the untouched dinner tray out of the room. The milk, ham, broccoli and potatoes scent was making her feel ill. Her nurse kept bringing solid food when she couldn't even keep water down. Beep. Beep. Beep. She grimaced in pain and clutched at her abdomen. I asked if she was on any pain killers. She told me yes, but the nurse had been swapping stories right outside her room at the station, and had given it to my sister 90 minutes late when she remembered. It hadn't kicked in yet.
Beep. Beep. Beep. She also was given Imodium as big as a horse pill to swallow, even though it came right back up. That was her only medicine for diarrhea. Beep. Beep. Beep.
She rolled her face to the side, and I saw that she had been losing clumps of hair. It was imbedded all through the pillowcase, scratching her. She tried to pick it off, but then gave up and asked if I could get her a new one. Beep. Beep. Beep. I poked my head outside the door. No one around. No one to stop the incessant beeping, or to tell me where the linens were, but I saw a cart, and grabbed a pillowcase.
When I went back in, my sister had thrown up again, and was writing down the volume, as her nurse had instructed her to keep track of her fluid intake and output. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Can we do something about that noise? What does the doctor say? My sister hadn't seen him for days. He came in one night while she was asleep, she is told. Beep. Beep. Beep.
What does the nurse say? Nothing. Just takes the vitals and says maybe the doctor will come visit tonight. Beep. Beep. Beep.
As I was about ready to knock over the machine and stomp on it to get rid of that sound, her new nurse came into the room, introduced herself, apologized, and made the noise stop. She rested her hand gently on my sister's arm and asked how she was. When I told her I had some questions and concerns, she listened carefully to each one. She told me the procedure to request a liquid diet, suggested we could get my sister some Imodium that dissolves in the mouth ourselves, since the hospital did not provide it ever, and then brought her some herbal tea to sip on.
She made my sister feel cared for, and human. She made me see the difference between a nurse who keeps patients alive, and a nurse who adds care to the basics. The other nurse, she also showed me something. She had been an ICU nurse for over twenty years, so she obviously knew her job. My sister was still alive, hydrated, and her potassium levels were getting to where they needed to be. But nursing should be much more than that. And I want to be a nurse who makes that difference of caring in patient's lives.
