When I was an On Call nurse for hospice, it was expected that when you heard the phone ring and got your assignment, you were to be on your way within 15 minutes. If it's 3am and you had been sleeping, that gives you almost no time to throw clothes on, deal with hair standing in all directions, jump into your shoes and fly out the door.
Our standard uniform was casual business with dress shirt with our agancy's logo on it. I always wore black dress pants and shiny black shoes.
The visit was a death/support visit at a facility. The death had been expected and the family seemed to be doing well: "grieving appropriately," as we call it. I have had a lot of experience providing emotional support to families at this time, and have learned that focussing on how the patient's comfort goals and persional wishes were acheived does give families a sense of comfort...usually.
This night, there was a large family in the room...standing room only for the hospice nurse. So I made my way to the patient, assessed vital signs, and recorded the time for the physician. I started talking to the family collectively and then individually, sometimes leaning forward to speak quietly and still be heard.
On occassion, family members would start smiling and turning their heads away. Then some were chuckling. I wasn't sure if they were upset, losing it, or if I had a booger in my nose or something. So, I did my best and circulated until I was sure everyone was okay.
When I left, I stopped in the men's room and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. That's when I noticed the large, orange smiley faces peeking out from behind my zipper! I died of embarassment, and thoughts about how I was trying to comfort and ease the tension in the room with my quiet, calm assurances came flooding in. I realized why they were chuckling and I stayed hidden in the bathroom until I was sure they left the building.
I guess it could have been worse...I think I still had a pair of Curious George boxers back then.
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When I was an On Call nurse for hospice, it was expected that when you heard the phone ring and got your assignment, you were to be on your way within 15 minutes. If it's 3am and you had been sleeping, that gives you almost no time to throw clothes on, deal with hair standing in all directions, jump into your shoes and fly out the door.
Our standard uniform was casual business with dress shirt with our agancy's logo on it. I always wore black dress pants and shiny black shoes.
The visit was a death/support visit at a facility. The death had been expected and the family seemed to be doing well: "grieving appropriately," as we call it. I have had a lot of experience providing emotional support to families at this time, and have learned that focussing on how the patient's comfort goals and persional wishes were acheived does give families a sense of comfort...usually.
This night, there was a large family in the room...standing room only for the hospice nurse. So I made my way to the patient, assessed vital signs, and recorded the time for the physician. I started talking to the family collectively and then individually, sometimes leaning forward to speak quietly and still be heard.
On occassion, family members would start smiling and turning their heads away. Then some were chuckling. I wasn't sure if they were upset, losing it, or if I had a booger in my nose or something. So, I did my best and circulated until I was sure everyone was okay.
When I left, I stopped in the men's room and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. That's when I noticed the large, orange smiley faces peeking out from behind my zipper! I died of embarassment, and thoughts about how I was trying to comfort and ease the tension in the room with my quiet, calm assurances came flooding in. I realized why they were chuckling and I stayed hidden in the bathroom until I was sure they left the building.
I guess it could have been worse...I think I still had a pair of Curious George boxers back then.