The Language of Compassion

 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.