I was told to look for the most “far gone” patient and work with them. Instead, I broke the chain of strict student learning and approached this peculiar patient in the day room. One by one, he put his cards down...
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The purity of water can bring wonders to a parched soul, a dirty wound, a needy plant. I happen to know of a way in which water can bring solace to the heaviest of hearts and even the most entangled minds. I met him during my Psychiatry clinical and he happened to be a regular on the unit. I didn't see much in him at first and actually thought he was a family relative of a patient. I was told to look for the most "far gone" patient and work with them. Instead, I broke the chain of strict student learning and approached this peculiar patient in the day room. One by one, he put his cards down as he lazily played solitaire. He was lanky and gaunt, but his face reeked of an ageless aura. He reminded me of the ruins of Fabio, though his lack for anything of the norm proved otherwise. I sat near the end of the table and asked if I could join in. Apparently, he took it as I was asking him if he was Hitler. He looked at me with such fervor that my innocent student nurse persona was suddenly cracked. Just like the Russian nested dolls, his entire being unleashed itself onto me and my now ill-fated question. Human interaction. Hmmm. Not something on his list of things to do. So I backed away and pretended that I just didn't get served by said patient.
It took several more visits before he could gather the strength (and kindness) to say 'hello' to me. I was pleased to see such progress and returned the greeting daily. Eventually, we held short conversations consisting of the weather, why can't he go home, what's for dinner, etc. I was mostly there to listen and offer a resounding nod when the time felt right. One day, I got to the unit extra early so that I could work on my presentation. I was surprised to see that he hadn't left yet, but at the same time relieved because he was not mentally ready to go back home. Not today. As I worked on the computer, I noticed him coming towards the desk and when I asked what he needed he blurted out "I scrubbed myself harder than ever today. The shower washed away my sins, my unhappiness, my anger. I'm cured. Send me home". Immediately, I tried to think of what to say, but no words could form. No nursing book could confidently prepare me for this occasion. So I decided to get more information from him.
Boy, did I get some information...
He mainly spoke of his countless sins and how his showers either make or break his day. If he's not satisfied with the purification, he's depressed for the day; if he's satisfied, he's rejuvenated. Simple as that. There was an urge within me the entire time to refrain from saying something idiotic, but it happened anyway. I simply said, "well, it's just a shower".
Begin Note: Sometimes, Silence is more golden than that doctor's Rolex. EndNote.
This is exactly what his parents told him, his ex-girlfriend, his own self, but he couldn't help it. Life seemed to flow out of his body that day as he was yet again reminded of how he turned something trivial into a life-sustaining ritual. I tried my best to apologize, but it was useless since the words just hit his ears but never went in. I walked home with my head down and my pride scraping against the pavement. What a dumb idea to make someone feel silly when all they needed was reassurance. So much for being a great nursing student. I prayed for him that night. I hoped beyond all hope that he didn't try to harm himself because of me. Ha! Me, have influence over someone's willpower? Silly girl! That's for the birds!
My last day on the unit brought renewed hope for me to settle any misunderstandings and prove my support for him. He approached the counter again, but this time had the slightest hint of a smile on his face. He thanked me for listening to his stories and told me he found the courage to get up that morning. He didn't scrub as usual, but instead, let the waterfall where it may; devoid of any attempt to extinguish the imaginary sins he had wrought upon himself. I was pleased to hear of such good news and praised him for his efforts. He looked at me, struggled to smile, and simply said, "well, it's just a miracle". He shuffled away and nothing more was needed to be said.
I still think about that patient and wonder if he's okay. I'm sure he's still struggling with his OCD and other issues. Sometimes, when I perform my daily routine, I get caught up in thinking about if the water in my shower has other-worldly powers and can rinse some of these burdens off of me. Then I think, does this count towards a free trip to the psych unit? That's when I hush my thoughts and continue on with my day.
Now that I'm a nurse, I tend to wonder about my effects on my patients. Do I have the ability to wash away their pain and sorrow? Do I have what it takes to make them feel the same way that a shower felt for my psych patient? Perhaps I don't possess such angelic powers as of yet, but I do know that there are plenty of symbolic ways to relieve stress. Maybe my psych patient wasn't so "crazy" after all.
As I continue on my path of nursing, I want to know that there's an outlet for me to let go of my wandering mind and doubtful ways. It's not easy trying to find peace and purity when you don't know where the exit is. I suppose that for now, I'll just continue to enter my bathtub and be transported to another realm where a clear mind, peace, and tranquility exist. Or I could just lather, rinse, repeat. Besides, it's just a shower.
