Me...the Patient
You thought I didn't notice the fake, tight smile you gave me, but I did. I heard the edge of irritation in your voice and saw the roll of your eyes as you turned away. And, for future reference, your mouth does funny things when you're biting your tongue.
I didn't hear the things you said to your co-workers as soon as you cleared the room, but I heard them in my mind as if standing next to you.
"God, the patient in 505 is intolerable." The others teetered as you described me.
"Bet she's a nurse; is she?"
I imagine you couldn't pull my patient record and demographics up fast enough in search of my occupation. You groan echoed loudly, "She's an MSN."
The others laughed at your misfortune and walked away.
You wrote your name on the whiteboard in my room with a flourish and told me to call if I needed anything. But, you didn't mean it. I saw the hurried and dismissive way you wrote resenting the nuisance board.
You checked the orders for the day, scanned the most recent labs for obvious outliers, made a note of the meds to dole out, and moved on. You didn't delve into my history, or the reason I ended up in the emergency room; you didn't have time. Yet, discovering I was a nurse, made you cringe.
Am I Your Worst Nightmare?
I'm your worst nightmare or so you say; right next to the physician-patient, you had last week. I'm your patient and I hold a master's degree in nursing. I know things, lots of things about medicine, the role and responsibility of nurses, and more about the disease ravaging my body than most physicians. Knowledge is a powerful thing, and, yes, sometimes too much is a dangerous thing. Physicians see me occasionally and this is my first encounter with you, but I live with the complications of my illness every day. If I had to choose, I'd take more knowledge over less any day.
But, why does finding out I'm a nurse, bring out the worst in you? Why the snippy attitude or rolling eyes? Why should I hide the fact I'm a nurse? We're supposed to be kindred spirits.
I'm not here to grade your performance or make you feel, whatever you're feeling. I'm here to get well. A little compassion from one nurse to another will go a long way in making that happen.
I no longer practice nursing, not in an official capacity, but I remember what inspired me. I wanted to be like Florence Nightingale, help the sick, cure cancer, or the next big disease threatening to wipe out humanity. I had big plans. I'd advocate for my patients, unique in their illness and they would remember me with fondness. Although my career was cut short, I still maintain my license and keep up with medical practices. Nursing is a way of life for me. It's who I am.
The Healthcare System
The whole health care system is unrecognizable to me these days. Nurses are still overworked and underpaid. Electronic charting and medical records have nurses spending more time in front of the computer than at the bedside, and patient care has become check-offs on a computer screen.
Remember the lab values I asked about?
"They were normal," you said. Did you bother to review the pattern of my previous labs? No, you evaded my questions and became annoyed. If you had, you would've realized they weren't normal, not for me. One size does not fit all.
To you, I'm the pain in the *** nurse-patient in room 505, but this is my life, my body, and my pain. I should have a say; I've earned it.
One day you will be me, the nurse on the other side, receiving instead of giving care. Tired, sick, and afraid, the truth of who you are will slip out as your own knowledge compels you to ask questions and push for answers. Clinging to the last bit of control you have, you'll pay attention to the care you receive as never before. Once a nurse, you're always a nurse.
That time will come faster than you can imagine. When it does, you'll want a compassionate nurse. One, who listens, answers questions, takes your concerns seriously, and treats you with the respect every nurse deserves no matter her age or circumstances, not one who rolls her eyes in impatient mockery.
