A huge part of my nursing philosophy is to be the hands and feet of Christ is my daily work. This does not mean evangelizing my patients, but actively working every day to find the good in those I interact with, assume the best, and care for the whole person. My Jesuit college education spoke of cura personalis, Latin for care of the person. As defined on the Regis University website, it is "dedication to promoting human dignity and care for the mind, body and spirit of the person".
In the midst of a busy day and multiple patients all needing important things it is very easy to become task focused as opposed to person focused. I sometimes have to stop and remind myself that my sweet man with dementia who doesn't remember the last time I was in his room still deserves the same respect and intentional time as my alert and oriented patient who counts the minutes between each encounter.
As I begin each day my goal is to bring joy to my patients through my work. They don't deserve to feel the stress and multiple things on my mind. They may need to understand my time is limited in the emergency setting, but they need to feel the genuine sincerity and care in each encounter to feel safe and cared for int their time of need. Another sweet gentleman asked if I could stay and rub his back. My typical nurse reaction of annoyance was trumped by sympathy for him from the sincere look in his eyes and pain and frustration he was feeling. He wasn't asking because he was needy, but because he was scared and lonely. I had to kindly break the news that this was not possible with the patient acuity we had and how I wished he was my only patient in that moment so I could help him feel better.
That broke my heart. I wanted so bad to give the best care to each of my patients. He felt lonely, another left against medical advice because he waited so long due to a mass influx of critical patients, and then a patient passed away after every attempt to restore life. Whether I wanted to recognize it or not, at the end of the day I was emotionally and physically exhausted.
Day three began pretty mellow and I encountered a young woman with onset of symptoms that warranted admission. She was kind and I gave her the same care I give all my patients. I entered her room to pass on the good news that she finally had a bed ready. We had made friendly small talk but nothing deep up to that point. She looked up at me and stated confidently, "I need to pray for you".
I was taken aback and elated. "I would love that!" I exclaimed. I was totally surprised being that faith had never crossed our conversation. She took my hands and began to pray out loud. I was on the verge of tears feeling so touched. She prayed a heartfelt prayer asking God to bless me in my work as I had touched her. She thanked Him for the care she received today and prayed that I might be touched by others in the way that I touch each and every one of my patients. My heart melted as I took her hands and prayed for her healing. I gave her a hug and she was rolled out of the department.
Little did she know that she was God's voice to me that day. After three long 12 hour shifts and trying so hard to help each person and not feeling totally successful, God reached down through this patient and said take a breath, you're doing just fine. Keep your heart up and know that I am here.
It is these moments I hold on to. These moments I remember why I do what I do and fuels me to keep going. When things get tough I remember her words, take a breath, and continue to smile. God shines through joy, and sometimes joy can break the fear and uncertainty that is present when one walks through the doors of the ER.
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