Every time I care for a patient who does not speak fluent
English, I wonder what it would be like to be in their shoes. I imagine I would
be terrified and struggle feeling out of control in such an unfamiliar
environment. Past the initial fear would have to be a surrendering and
allowance of a certain amount of trust. I would trust the nurses and doctors
had my best intention in mind and I would trust that they were competent
practitioners. I would have to trust because at a certain point, what other
choice would I have? There is something so special about our nursing profession
that people do trust us. It is in the name of being a nurse that people
automatically assume (in a good way) that one is compassionate, caring,
intuitive, respectful, hard-working, and kind. People expect us to care and be
their advocate in their most vulnerable times. They absolutely want us to be
competent in what we do, but security in their care rests in the fact that we
are nurses, and all that encompasses being a nurse. Thus, nursing named as the
most trusted profession.
If you asked someone who has been hospitalized to describe a
nurse you would most likely hear things about constant presence at the bedside,
an advocate to the provider, someone who took the time to listen, understand,
and care, a compassionate individual, an educator, and in charge of the plan
of care. While IV skills may be praised as patients hate being pin cushions,
nursing is less known as a profession of pill-passing, IV-starting,
foley-placing, wound-dressing, and computer charting. Sure, all aspects in our
day to day work, but skills that are apart of nursing. I would describe this as
the “doing” of nursing, while the former description is the “being” of nursing.
If trained, most anyone can do
nursing, but not everyone can be a
nurse. To integrate compassion into aspects of caring and communication is a
special gift nurses possess. Everyone has their own style and pace, but at the
bottom of good, patient-centered nursing care is the ability of a patient to
feel like someone cares.
I walked in to assess a young patient this week and gave my
typical overview of an ER stay trying to give her and her family a realistic
picture of ordered tests, plan of care, and time of stay. I turned to write my
name on the whiteboard in the room while saying, “My name is Christy, and I
will be your nurse while you’re here…” when she stopped me and asked, “Do they
make you say that or something?” I stopped and laughed.
“In a sense, yes. Why do you ask?”
She replied, “Because you’ve told me your name three times”.
I laughed and told her she better not forget it then.
Maybe you don’t frequent the hospital, but the culture of
healthcare is shifting with a large emphasis on patient satisfaction. Were you
comfortable? Were you cared for? Was care efficient? Did you know who your
nurse was? Did he/she round with you frequently? Sometimes these questions feel
inappropriate when a patient is angry about wait time because you were doing
chest compressions for 45 minutes to keep the patient next door alive, but
generally, in taking a step back, it takes some of the anxiety away from a
patient when they at least know what is going on and who is taking care of
them. Everyone wants to know the plan. Maybe a little on autopilot and maybe a
little overkill on the explanation, but I knew that family felt informed and
knew who was advocating for them during their stay. This was validated when the
patient’s friend poked her head out of the door and flagged me down by name to
get some help as oppose to saying “hey nurse”.
It’s the little things. Those little things can bog you down
or you can use them as tools in practice to make your patient’s life and
ultimately yours a little easier. Sometimes it is hard to see until you are on
the other side in the bed or with a family member wondering what the plan is
and who cares about what is going on. I hope those little things show you that I care.
It is in our nature that we all want to feel cared for and
want to feel compassion. What does it mean to give compassion? I don’t think I
can answer that with an easy answer, but I think it is being present in the
little things, chatting through the mundane tasks, getting to know one thing
about your patient. Sometimes it is just being present to listen. How do you
feel compassion from another? I don’t typically have time to sit and have a
long conversation with a patient in the ER, but I have time to look them in the
eye and validate their symptoms and concerns, keep them informed, and advocate
for their needs.
You may not understand a word of the diagnosis I just
explained to you and you zoned out when I explained how long you would be here
and additional tests we needed to run. You can’t remember my name and can’t see
it on the whiteboard, but you know I’ve been in the room and you recognize that
I care. Maybe I can’t speak your language or maybe you are too overwhelmed to
understand the education, but, as your nurse, I hope that my words, actions, and body speak
the language of compassion.
