Semester Three, Week Twelve

Another week, come and gone.

There were no exams, thankfully, but the additional hours of lecture were indeed excruciating. I only have about ten million slides to go over for Monday's exam, all on GI and endocrine related material.

My dog is sick again; presumed pancreatitis. She's worse off this time around than she was last time, and I find myself in a healthy state of denial, pretending like she'll pull through this again, even though she's presently lying at my feet and too weak to ambulate well.

I cared for a dying patient during clinicals this week. Their diagnosis was self-inflicted, and I recognized, how far too easy it is to judge. As I cared for him, I saw that this was a broken man, someone who took their addiction too far, but I also saw someone who is genuinely making an effort just to live. His family member also stated as such, and said she wants him to keep on going. His requests were minimal; to shower, to have lotion and chap stick, to have a breathing treatment for his wheezing and dyspnea when lying supine.

Nursing care requires love. It requires impartiality. It requires an open heart, and when judgement attempts to seep in, it is reminding yourself that at the core, there is a problem. A heart problem, a soul problem. As a nurse in training, I am so honored to be just a temporary part of my patient's lives, and (hopefully) showing them the non-judgmental love of Christ.

I once more was reminded of that yesterday, when rounding with the wound care nurse. A young patient, defined as an IV drug abuser with a raging infection, but I saw someone who is so lost, their cause (almost) hopeless. Their gaping wound as a result of drug abuse and infection was no match for the ache, the heart pain of a young addict who had a perfectly functioning body and was riddled with disease, once more due to addiction. As the tears poured down their cheeks, I wanted so badly to hug them; but was reminded of the need to remain professional, showing neither sympathy or judgement; just the facts, Jack. But there is no way on the planet that I will ever be able to remain that impartial, and so I silently prayed for the patient. I love secretly praying for people.

Another patient was recovering from their ostomy surgery. The wife was learning how to change the ostomy dressing and bag, and I commended both the patient and his wife on their willingness to learn, taking this life change in such stride. The wife shrugged, stating "What else can you do?"and I nearly had one of those blasted break down moments, wondering who would care for me if I was sick, if I needed an ostomy, or had a life changing event. Yeah, yeah, that's what your parents and sisters are for I hear you saying. But nothing [yet] has erased that deep void in my hear to have someone by my side in sickness and in health.

Sometimes it feels like I give so much of myself but receive so little in return. And this isn't about pity, or wanting recognition. Nursing life is hard work. It requires selflessness, but sometimes I wonder if I'm getting too prideful, as I recognize how "selfless" I am, yet still wish for more.