The first patient that made me cry.
But first, a little background stuff on what it’s like for me to be a nurse.
I’ve been a bedside nurse for 20 years.
Throughout my career, I’ve had the privilege of being present for countless unique moments in another human being’s life.
Moments that are often hard and sad but that are also raw and authentic.
My favourite thing about these moments, is that I get to experience another human being during their most vulnerable states. That without our health, we are all brought down to the same level.
At this level, we can relate to one another.
I’ve witnessed that our health and our egos tend to be married to each other. In other words, if you lose some part of your health, your ego tends to drop off with it.
What’s cool about this is, even if someone is being mean, with ego gone, there is often only genuine fear left. As this person’s nurse I now have access to my compassion for their behaviour. It allows for expansion within me where my judgment and defence (my ego) can then move aside.
When their ego falls, mine does too, and a magical moment appears.
We all understand what it’s like to be truly scared and because of that relatability, we become present to our hearts and we can feel their’s too.
With ego no longer at play, the nurse has an opportunity to connect more deeply with her patient.
I live for this kind of connection and look for it outside of the hospital as well.
The moments where you can feel your heart relate to another without anything else being in the way.
These moments tend to only pop up during the hard stuff.
The sad moments, the loss, the hard conversations that create a lump in your throat and a ball in your tummy. Without these moments, we wouldn’t gain access to this level of connection and vulnerability.
This is why I would never give up any of the hard in life.
It’s where the magic lives.
It’s where our light lives.
Every day I go to work I receive a beautiful reminder of this and I get to witness what actually matters in life.
Who you are and what you own, no longer hold any weight when you are lying in a hospital bed. Everyone wears the same gown, and poops and pees just like his or her neighbour.
We all have that in common. Without our health, we are all equal.
No more important, intimidating lawyers, or flashy real-estate agents, or bossy big brothers. Those hats melt away and the truth and realness of that person is revealed all at once.
A nurse is given access into a unique window of another human being’s life.
I consider this a gift and a privilege.
I often tell my patients that I believe the hardest thing about landing in a hospital bed is the ‘waiting’.
Waiting for the test results, waiting to get better, waiting for the doctor or nurse, waiting for a family member to visit, waiting for the food tray or pain medication, waiting for answers, waiting to go home.
The constant “now what?” while being at the mercy of an illness and the health care system.
This is the very reason patients are called patients.
It, in my opinion, is the biggest test in patience that anyone will ever face.
People often ask me, how do you do it?
It most definitely takes a certain type of person to do this job.
For me, I became a master at taking care of others at a very young age.
A sequence of life events seemed to land me in a position where I had to choose either to cry and panic or to stay calm, turn outward and do what needed to be done for the others around me. I chose the latter. And although it may not have always been the healthiest choice for me, I became highly attuned to knowing exactly what others around me needed.
And I was really good at it.
Enter me becoming a critical care nurse.
The one environment in the medical field where you can only survive as a nurse if you stay calm and apply critical thinking, while the stakes are at the highest.
Because of my lifetime mastery, the shoe fit and so that is where I ended up in my career and where I still am today; at the bedside in the Intensive Care.
I would venture to guess that most nurses are a varying degree of this disassociated version of themselves while at work. Whereby, to care for your loved one, the nurse can’t be ‘all in’ with her feelings.
She shuts down what she feels, in order to effectively care for her patient.
If the nurse felt all her feelings at work, it would result in her becoming a blubbering mess and she would likely be deemed incompetent.
So really, it isn’t an option.
But occasionally, a patient gets ‘in’.
They penetrate that protective shield, and we allow ourselves to feel.
These ones creep into our hearts, and we end up being deeply affected by them.
For me, this has only happened a handful of times.
On the 20th year anniversary of my career, I have decided to write about each of these patients.
To honor them, to honor me, and to honor the entire nursing profession.
Here’s my first one.
I was 23 years old, fresh out of nursing school, and working on a medical unit.
Medical units tend to house an array of patients with a wide variety of problems and many diagnoses. Hence calling them “medical” instead of “surgical” for example, one could be a patient for any one or several different medical reasons. Anything from heart problems to diabetes, to a simple urinary tract infection or insistent constipation.
Jack was one of these patients.
He had been on the unit for several weeks.
He was 83 years old and was being plagued by constant bouts of constipation and had acquired a subsequent kidney disease.
This led to excess toxins in his blood, affecting his ability to mentate and function on a daily basis.
He was pleasantly confused, kind and naturally handsome.
Here’s my story about Jack.
Jack Jack was my first The first death That made me cry We'd dance And we'd sing And we'd do things On the fly
I'd shave your face So that you could feel more normal Look how handsome you are I'd exclaim, trying not to be too formal You'd stare back at me And smile with pure glee Thank you, Chantelle, Thank you for me
You battled a toxic body One that was caused by constipation Which we both found very funny And spent a lot of time contemplating You dreamed of dancing With your late wife at the legion So, we'd pretend to be there With your walker steady at your hip region
I'd hold up your Depends And we'd laugh and we'd laugh All the while with death at the door Ready with its wrath That day came quick Or so it seemed We couldn't believe I'd cared for you for 2 months Like a dream You looked at me with those deep blue eyes And your skin turned ashen right before me Not now Jack, I begged But I knew you couldn't hear me The DNR had been set I had to put my nursing instincts to rest No CPR for you And I knew that was best I helped you back in bed As we waited and waited For your time on this Earth to end As we knew it wouldn't be avoided You couldn't look anywhere But straight up at the ceiling I remembered you saying I love you Chantelle, as I was leaving I tried to wait To be there right when But I had to go As I had already stayed past then I whispered to you closely Go to the legion, go dance Right then you looked at me For one final glance I cried and I cried For the first time in my career And the next day I knew You would no longer be there But on my way to work Something magical happened People and people waved at me As I passed by them I thought, hmm that's weird What's happening here? But when I got back to my unit It all became clear You see you had come To say goodbye to me through Some angels on Earth Who were sent to me By you Thank you, Jack, thank you You taught me quite a lesson The first in a career Where death would always be present That it isn't always Tragic Or sad Or all scary That it can be magical And beautiful And so It is quite the contrary xo
“To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure”
J.K.Rowling