I Will Talk, You Just Listen

Ask anyone who knows me very well, and they can tell you what I have wanted to be when I "grow up" since I was 14 years old; a nurse. To be a nurse means to be compassionate, brave, and holding yourself up to very high standards while still encompassing the raw passion it takes to get there. Nurses Announcements Archive Article

I Will Talk, You Just Listen

Nursing school was the goal, discovering who I am and the qualities I possess is what I received on the journey.

When I got out of high school, I went into college bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to take on the world, most importantly the medical world. Working at a hospital confirmed that I wanted to be the one soothing patient fears and calming family members down.

I wanted to be the woman pushing medicine into the IV and listening to breathe sounds with my brightly colored stethoscope. I knew that I was smart enough and held the patience and understanding that it took to listen to the teenager scared she was going to be a mother, or hold the hand of a dying 87-year-old.

My "AHA" moment was one that I will always remember.

I had just started as an EKG technician at a local hospital, was 19 years old, and had not experienced seeing death. A stat EKG was called from ICU, so I went up to the room and there laid a 37-year-old woman admitted with a brain aneurysm from a car accident.

She was still, looked like she was pretty warm underneath the air blanket and hooked up to life support. Being the technician, I hooked her up to the EKG machine; bloop bloop bloop, her strip was in sinus rhythm.

While getting her strip, I talked to her. It was 2 days before Thanksgiving, and I remembered that they always say that the patients can hear you if they are in comas; what could it hurt? I told her that everyone wanted her to get better and that I hoped she woke up to have a nice Thanksgiving with her family.

Once downstairs, the nurse called back and requested a stat echo. I hadn't been there for very long and didn't know why they needed that test, her heart was in sinus rhythm; a perfect EKG. The echo tech then told me something that I will never forget. "The patient has no brain activity; KODA needs the test to make sure her heart is ready for transplant".

I was stunned.

I immediately started crying and was so upset that I had to leave for the day. I had just spoken with that patient, well, I had spoken, and she just listened.

These moments come into our lives and make us realize the capacity that we have to deal with such tragic endings. I discovered in those very short hours that even though I had cried and been so upset, that's what makes great health care professional; it shows you care. And even after all these years, I still wonder if I was the last person to actually speak to her and not about her.

Now, after switching my major 3 times due to uncertainty and graduating with a degree in sports medicine, I am back to where I started 8 years ago, only this time I have student nurse after my name. I can only keep the hope and certainty that the same girl who spoke with that patient all these years ago is willing and ready to take on the nursing world, where there will be lots of Jane doe's who will need me to speak to them while they listen.

0 Votes
blt3535

About blt3535

25 Posts

Share this post

Thank you for telling your story. Even though you didn't know what was happening with the woman you spoke to, where she came from or where she was going - I think it is very important to treat people like *human beings* from the beginning til the end. Keep it up.

0 Votes

You have a good heart.

I, too, talk to the patients that are in a coma.

Recently I was on a crusade of taking my patients off restraints and talking to them (to the ones that nobody talks to, because they can't talk back to you). Not even one pulled their vent tubes or IV's etc. after I took them off restraints. And their eyes were on me at all times and get lit up with joy when I talked to them. Just because a patient is on a vent and exhausted by disease, does not mean that you have to restrain them, so you can make your day easier. At least in my case, they were all fine, just exhausted and the vent tubes were not pulled by them, like other people made an excuse. One of the patients put his hands together in prayer right a way when I removed his restraints and I prayed together with him. Hey, you can save a lot of money for the hospital if you say a prayer with the patient, you don't have to stuff them with so much Ativan anymore...it's all good. And by checking on them a lot, you get your aerobic exercise...lol...

I had once a patient with ALS, on a vent, in the final stages, at home, hospice. I noticed that all the visitors were talking around him like he was not there. I was a little upset (a lot, actually, but you can not blame ignorance), but when everybody left, I pulled a chair and I talked to him, by the look he had in his eyes (he was "smiling" with his eyes), I know that he was all there and he was grateful that someone was talking to him like he was still the same person from before being so weak and frail.

And yes, G-d help me to be a nurse for many years to come and be blessed to talk to patients in their time of need, it is the best thing about nursing. I will always remember when someone said a kind word to me when I was sick and scared and I remember how good it felt; so will the patients.

0 Votes

You care, and seem to be a loving person. We need people like you. ^_^

0 Votes
Specializes in med/surg, psych, public health.

Thank goodness for nurses like all of the above! :hgu:

0 Votes
Specializes in Retired OR nurse/Tissue bank technician.
I discovered in those very short hours that even though I had cried and been so upset, that's what makes a great health care professional; it shows you care.

I worked two jobs; the one job we could debrief whenever we needed to. We worked with death all the time and sometimes we needed to let off steam, whether it was a formal debriefing or some dark humour. The other job there was no debriefing. We would let off steam sometimes with poking fun at each other, but nothing troubling or upsetting was discussed.

If I had allowed myself to feel and to cry when certain things happened in that second job and earlier on as a student, my nickname would not be RetiredTooSoon. I bottled so much up and tried to keep going that when a critical incident happened (nine years ago yesterday), I had no reserves and mentally and physically collapsed. After nine years, I'm just now slowly starting to make baby steps forward to regaining my health, but there's no guarantee I'll ever be 'normal' or able to work again.

And even after all these years, I still wonder if I was the last person to actually speak to her and not about her.

I can only keep the hope and certainty that the same girl who spoke with that patient all these years ago is willing and ready to take on the nursing world, where there will be lots of Jane doe's who will need me to speak to them while they listen.

As a student nurse on a medicine/palliative care unit, I was asked to go into a deceased patient's room to catalogue his belongings for when his family arrived. It was March and it was about nine at night, so it was dark outside. I just had the overbed light on and after a brief look at the deceased gentleman, a straightening of his sheets and a touch to his cold hand, I moved about quickly to get everything taken care of so his family didn't have to deal with that on top of the rest.

Suddenly the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I looked around, thinking someone was behind me, trying to spook me, but it was still just the man and me in the room. I went back to work but again I felt like someone was watching me. I looked over at the deceased, thinking maybe a mistake had been made and he was alive. No mistake had been made.

I wanted to run out of the room, but didn't dare, so I looked over at the gentleman again and started to talk to him as if he were alive. I told him his family would be there soon, that I was just getting his stuff packed up so that his wife could take his suitcase home. I talked about the weather and the forecast and what was happening on the rest of the unit and as I had this 'discussion' with the dead man, I felt the hair on my neck lie back down and I felt the presence I'd sensed before stepping back, as if it knew it was okay that I was there.

The only problem? His wife walked in to the room while I had my back turned and was talking to her husband; she thought the doctor was wrong and that he was still alive. When she ran to the bedside and discovered he was definitely deceased, she just about fainted. :o I felt so bad for her, yet her husband apparently needed to hear my words to feel safe to be able to leave.

Years later when I was working in tissue procurement, I would almost always offer to take the donor to the morgue when we had finished our harvest. On the way down the elevator I would talk to them softly, thanking them for the incredible gift they'd just given, thanked them for letting me be part of that gift and reassuring them that their family would be there soon to see them. I never told anyone I did this-I think they'd have thought I was nuts-but it always seemed to be the least I could do.

0 Votes
Specializes in Labor & Delivery, Med-surg.

I have often felt like talking to patients after they are deceased but always felt that this was way to odd to actually do it. Sometimes I've done it under my breath, but no more. I will speak out loud from now on. Thank you so much for validating this for me, RetiredTooSoon. I hope you do go back to nursing one day!

0 Votes
I worked two jobs; the one job we could debrief whenever we needed to. We worked with death all the time and sometimes we needed to let off steam, whether it was a formal debriefing or some dark humour. The other job there was no debriefing. We would let off steam sometimes with poking fun at each other, but nothing troubling or upsetting was discussed.

If I had allowed myself to feel and to cry when certain things happened in that second job and earlier on as a student, my nickname would not be RetiredTooSoon. I bottled so much up and tried to keep going that when a critical incident happened (nine years ago yesterday), I had no reserves and mentally and physically collapsed. After nine years, I'm just now slowly starting to make baby steps forward to regaining my health, but there's no guarantee I'll ever be 'normal' or able to work again.

As a student nurse on a medicine/palliative care unit, I was asked to go into a deceased patient's room to catalogue his belongings for when his family arrived. It was March and it was about nine at night, so it was dark outside. I just had the overbed light on and after a brief look at the deceased gentleman, a straightening of his sheets and a touch to his cold hand, I moved about quickly to get everything taken care of so his family didn't have to deal with that on top of the rest.

Suddenly the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I looked around, thinking someone was behind me, trying to spook me, but it was still just the man and me in the room. I went back to work but again I felt like someone was watching me. I looked over at the deceased, thinking maybe a mistake had been made and he was alive. No mistake had been made.

I wanted to run out of the room, but didn't dare, so I looked over at the gentleman again and started to talk to him as if he were alive. I told him his family would be there soon, that I was just getting his stuff packed up so that his wife could take his suitcase home. I talked about the weather and the forecast and what was happening on the rest of the unit and as I had this 'discussion' with the dead man, I felt the hair on my neck lie back down and I felt the presence I'd sensed before stepping back, as if it knew it was okay that I was there.

The only problem? His wife walked in to the room while I had my back turned and was talking to her husband; she thought the doctor was wrong and that he was still alive. When she ran to the bedside and discovered he was definitely deceased, she just about fainted. :o I felt so bad for her, yet her husband apparently needed to hear my words to feel safe to be able to leave.

Years later when I was working in tissue procurement, I would almost always offer to take the donor to the morgue when we had finished our harvest. On the way down the elevator I would talk to them softly, thanking them for the incredible gift they'd just given, thanked them for letting me be part of that gift and reassuring them that their family would be there soon to see them. I never told anyone I did this-I think they'd have thought I was nuts-but it always seemed to be the least I could do.

I don't think that talking to dead patients is nuts. I was probably the only one that was saying prayers at the morgue (I was working in a department that was near the morgue and it was a slow job, that allowed me those kinds of luxuries, to run in the morgue and say a little prayer after I saw the body going in and the person that took them there gone). I say the only one because I never saw anyone doing that (I suggested that to one of the ER Techs and despite the fact that he was a little taken aback, he said that he was going to do it, too, from then on; we actually had a very special moment in the morgue that day, I know that he really meant his first prayer for a deceased patient). In the ER, I would go in the rooms or behind the curtains and say a prayer before the deceased were taken to the morgue. Of course, I was doing it pretending that I was cleaning the room, everybody was so "tough" there, I wasn't going to be made fun of or looked funny at.

The most shocking thing I ever encountered as death goes was a 14 years old beautiful girl, she hung herself and all the efforts made to revive her were in vain. She was so pretty, I will always remember her. She looked like she was asleep. I felt such an anger and pain...I started crying and shaking after I saw her dead like that and the detectives told me: "Did you look close at her?" And I didn't know what they meant, I said "No". One of them said: "She's pregnant...". It is useless to elaborate what I felt...I have no idea what they meant, but I suppose they were in shock as well, so I forgive their indiscretion next to her body. A life is a long succession of sufferings that no one knows about but each person about their own and when all is done and they just took their last breath, the least we can do is to say a prayer for their soul. I hope that someone will say a prayer over my broken body when I will be gone. (Note: In between sufferings we have special happy moments, but let's not kidd ourselves, they are few).

I hope that the reason that stopped you from working will become bearable for you in time and also that you will be able to see the good that can come out of a tragedy like that (not being able to work I consider a tragedy). I have had a very bad accident myself (at work, here! I said it!) and I was in bed for a year, starving with my child and nobody cared, but I am able to see now what that did to me, it made me stronger. I hope you will see that, too, in your case.

0 Votes
Specializes in M/S, Travel Nursing, Pulmonary.

Great story. I needed a break from all the bitter threads, to hear something about nurses wanting to help people again. Thanks.

0 Votes

I always talk to people who are comatose, end-stage alzheimer's, or even dead. It just seems like if there is one tiny spark of awareness or a spiritual being hovering about I want to be respectful. I try to cover them for privacy too and always stay mindful that this is a person, not just a body.

Moments like these, especially when we are new in health care, always stay with us. I remember the first time a patient died during my shift. Mrs. P. said she felt a little tired and wanted to lie down. I closed the door most of the way and turned the light off so she could rest. We made rounds a little while later and she was gone. She had just made me a little Christmas pin the day before- crocheted by hand. I was 18, and I was devastated. I cried and cried.

0 Votes
Specializes in Critical Care, Educator, Home Care.
I worked two jobs; the one job we could debrief whenever we needed to. We worked with death all the time and sometimes we needed to let off steam, whether it was a formal debriefing or some dark humour. The other job there was no debriefing. We would let off steam sometimes with poking fun at each other, but nothing troubling or upsetting was discussed.

If I had allowed myself to feel and to cry when certain things happened in that second job and earlier on as a student, my nickname would not be RetiredTooSoon. I bottled so much up and tried to keep going that when a critical incident happened (nine years ago yesterday), I had no reserves and mentally and physically collapsed. After nine years, I'm just now slowly starting to make baby steps forward to regaining my health, but there's no guarantee I'll ever be 'normal' or able to work again.

Your comments touched me and made me cry (a good thing). I too have been through a lot, over a long period of time. It all finally took its toll, like your "mental and physical collapse." I am only recently out the other side. The chronic pain and the depression are battles I may always have to fight, but I am FREE and the winner now, even in the midst of these conditions. For me, asking for help was the hardest first step, not because of pride, but because I am the caregiver - always, and took care of others - always. The counseling and the medications for depression were a big help, but after two years on the drugs, I felt it was time to go off of them. I did, with my doctor's knowledge, and feel much better. I was later told, that after 2 years on antidepressants, one should try to go off of them. By then, the circumstances that brought on the condition should have changed and you should have learned other skills to manage it, if you have been receiving psychological help. Whatever your circumstances, I hope you will continue your fight for good mental and physical health. My faith in God was, and is, my biggest help and as all the comments below verified, the spiritual side of life is powerful. The most powerful, in my opinion. Now, after 18 years out of nursing, I am planning on going back. It is what I loved and who I am, and unfortunately, prompted by these hard economic times. But what is intended for my harm, can be transformed for my good. Take good care of yourself and keep taking those baby steps. Every step, though they may be small, still gets you closer to the finish line. Never give up hope. What you have been through, and how you survived it, could be used in a great way, some day, to help others! It already is!!! Thanks for sharing.:paw:

0 Votes

Thank you for your post. I cried when I read this. You should send your letter to the nursing journals and nursing spectrum. More nurses need to read your letter. It is so touching. My daughter died one year ago and she lived 1700 miles away from me. She was a nicu nurse. She died in the hospital that she worked. Thank God I was their when she passed away. I only hope she had a nurse like you when she in and out of hospitals. You are so needed no matter where you go but please go back to taking care of patients. Patients and families need someone like you. You have a gift.

Thank you for being you, special you are.

0 Votes