I have some wonderful neighbors. One of them lives in my old place next door to me. She has been studying very hard to become a nurse. Earlier this week, she came home from her first day on a clinical shift of her nursing school, and wrote this: (Please take a minute to read this. It just might change your whole day) My lady, Ms. Caroline March 26, 2014 at 8:52pm Yesterday, the start of my clinical shift of nursing school was great. “Oh, you have Ms. Caroline in Room 216? You’re going to love her,” each staff member said… …all, that is, except my teacher. “You need to brace yourself before you go in there. Look through her chart.” Well, the chart evaded me, and I was eager to visit “my lady.” You see, that’s how I refer to each of the patients assigned to me… “My lady.” “My guy.” For those eight short hours, I am charged with their care, and I allow myself to fall in love with them, because then, and only then, is the best care provided. I entered Ms. Caroline’s room, the fresh-faced nursing student, and I found a gaunt, silver-haired, blue-eyed lady lying in her bed with hints of gorgeousness now evading her from a hard year of fighting cancer. Her eyes were fogged with age, yet I detected sparkle as she looked up and said, “Well, hello, hunny! How are you?” with a weak smile. Every word beckoned every ounce of strength she had, and utilized what little breath she could still muster up. Yesterday, the middle of my clinical shift of nursing school was hard. As I spent the morning caring for Ms. Caroline and all of the other patients, her story unveiled itself to me. Only one year ago, she had cancer, and doctors removed a portion of her tumor followed by radiation and chemotherapy. Ms. Caroline’s cancer had returned… in the same area, the radiation had caused a sore in her skin which became grossly infected. Ms. Caroline had a softball sized, bacteria-infected tumor in her chest that was making it hard for her to breath. To further complicate things, she had pneumonia and heart failure. In short, Ms. Caroline was dying, and dying quickly. Every time I entered my lady’s room, she would say something like, “Don’t make a fuss over me; I’m fine.” “I know you have other patients who need more help than me.” As the morning progressed, though, Ms. Caroline struggled for each breath a little more. “I….can’t….keep….doing….this…..” “I………..can’t………breathe………” The morning also included watching the nurse tell Ms. Caroline’s sole visitor, her best friend, that she was dying…and dying soon. And the icing on the morning’s cake was watching the doctor and nurse explain to Ms. Caroline that her breathing was going to continue to get worse until she died, which would probably be soon. Instead of being angry, instead of crying, instead of being scared, Ms. Caroline was grateful. Grateful that someone was giving it to her straight, grateful that someone was giving her the option of doubling her pain meds, doubling her anxiety meds, turning down her oxygen, stopping all of her other medication, and letting her drift to sleep. Yesterday, the end of my clinical shift of nursing school was hard. When I came back from lunch, I got the news that Ms. Caroline’s state had taken a downturn while I was gone. Her breathing was worse and she was nonresponsive. I knelt down to my Ms. Caroline, stroked her hair, now beaded with sweat. I whispered, “Ms. Caroline, I’m here. If you need to go, you can go. You won’t be alone, my sweet lady.” I stayed there as a steady line of visitors can to see Room 216. Respiratory therapists, nursing assistants, nurses… each came and told our patient that she was a magical lady and that they loved her dearly. Her chest rattled with each labored breath, and her oxygen level steadily declined. Ms. Caroline was leaving us. As I leaned against the wall and looked at my patient, I realized that Ms. Caroline would die without friends or family by her side, but she would not die alone. My sweet lady would die with adoring staff around her, admiring her selfless demeanor even in her final day, wishing they could bottle up the sunshine she exuded even as the light left her eyes. Yesterday, my clinical shift of nursing school was the best yet. Ms. Caroline’s only day with me, and likely her final hours, were spent demonstrating that hard situations do not have to make you a hard person. My sweet lady stayed sweet even as her situation bittered. So tonight, kiss your children goodnight a little longer. Tell your lover all you’ve been holding back. Thank those who go thankless every day. And remember Ms. Caroline who lived love and reminds us all that your attitude is not dictated by your situation, but by your heart. Your life is good, so let it show tomorrow in all you do and in every interaction. (Some details have been changed to protect my patient’s identity.)
Posted on: Sun, 30 Mar 2014 15:58:39 +0000
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