As I walk contemplatively through the hallways of tears, confusion, and heartbreak, I hear whispers and dreams that once were alive-- that once were in motion, but now have been silenced by the years.
I have noticed that some of my colleagues have found a certain joy in caring for these people, but as for me, I have continually found it to be very sad and rather depressing. I have tried to "talk" myself into enjoying the work, and I've tried to put on a smile when assisting residents with ADLs and extra activities, but all I find myself doing is feeling sorry. I have been learning a great deal of clinical skills, and my nursing proficiency has increased during this clinical rotation, but I also feel that I have not found much joy. I do find satisfaction in making the residents happy, and it isn’t the residents who sadden me, but it is the loss of their dreams that drown my heart in tears.
I see people who once were joyful and full of life, but now are being treated like babies; they are fed and have scheduled times when they will go to “activities” that they are expected to enjoy. I see people who once had dreams and expectations. I see people who once had a best friend. I see people who once laughed. I see people who once cared and once loved.
But it’s as if a thief suddenly robbed them of all their possessions.
The dreams that they once had are now forgotten, meaningless, and are only whispers that they sometimes mumble in our ears. The friends and family that they once knew are now strangers. The sounds of laughter that once came from these people are now replaced with cries of confusion, anger, and dismay. The people they once cared for and once loved have abandoned them, and their hearts don’t understand. They are lost.
Now essentially, my job as a nurse is to use my skills to care for and bring back health to these aged bodies, but I find myself only doing that much for them. Anything else I do doesn’t seem to bring back the dreams and the joy that they once had. I cannot give back their lost possessions, and all I can do is try to help maintain their health until God decides their time is up.
As I walk contemplatively through these hallways of tears, confusion, and heartbreak, I hear myself crying inside for these people. I realize one day my dreams and my hopes and my joys will only be a whisper that I will mumble into somebody's ear. But gladly and fortunately, I can hope, and I can know that after those years have passed, and my aged body has rested, and I have breathed my last breath, I will be in the care of my Heavenly Father who will whisper more than just dreams into my ear.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Post #4: Aurevoir!
My resident and I have developed a special relationship. She is an ex-nurse and a very skilled one for that matter. When I first started working with her, she would always be adamant that I do certain techniques better and more efficiently. To be honest, I was a little insecure most of time because of her background, but after a while, I began to appreciate her knowledge. She has taught me so many things that I didn't expect to learn from this clinical rotation. She has also taught me A LOT of confidence.
I watched Professor Haldeman do a physical assessment on a resident, and the professor did it with ease and confidence. It is that confidence that I wish to possess one day. That confidence is what my resident noticed that I lacked. She has continued to talk to me about how I should speak to the patient, how I should stand, how I should state requests, and most importantly, how I should educate the patient.
I feel that God has blessed me with this resident, and I feel so sad knowing that I may never see her again. I do not like to let go of people who have made big differences in my life, and this resident has impacted me very tremendously.
She is such a strong person; She does not live life scared of anything. She has no fear in death and is pretty at ease about all her conditions. I hear no complaints from her about any of her conditions. She has also opened up to me saying that she is a Christian, and it makes me so happy to know that because if anything does happen to her, I will know in my heart that she will be with the Savior.
Her confidence, fearlessness (even in the face of disease and physical deterioration), and caring attributes will always remain in my heart even when I graduate. I don't think I could ever forget this resident.
I watched Professor Haldeman do a physical assessment on a resident, and the professor did it with ease and confidence. It is that confidence that I wish to possess one day. That confidence is what my resident noticed that I lacked. She has continued to talk to me about how I should speak to the patient, how I should stand, how I should state requests, and most importantly, how I should educate the patient.
I feel that God has blessed me with this resident, and I feel so sad knowing that I may never see her again. I do not like to let go of people who have made big differences in my life, and this resident has impacted me very tremendously.
She is such a strong person; She does not live life scared of anything. She has no fear in death and is pretty at ease about all her conditions. I hear no complaints from her about any of her conditions. She has also opened up to me saying that she is a Christian, and it makes me so happy to know that because if anything does happen to her, I will know in my heart that she will be with the Savior.
Her confidence, fearlessness (even in the face of disease and physical deterioration), and caring attributes will always remain in my heart even when I graduate. I don't think I could ever forget this resident.
Post #3: The Many Languages Spoken at Cascade Vista
Wow! That's all I have to say about the things that are said amongst the workers at Cascade Vista! There are about 3 languages (other than English) that are spoken at my clinical setting in which I can understand: Vietnamese, Cambodian, and Mandarin. It really is amusing sometimes when they don't know that I understand the things they are saying. I have walked by while they were speaking about my colleagues and about other workers; it makes me cringe sometimes when awful things are spoken about others there. I really wonder why there is so much tension between the NA-Cs and the nurses. I can somewhat understand why there could be possible tension between those two groups of people, but I have also heard horrific things said about the residents as well.
I recall being in a room with a colleague and her resident; two NA-Cs were behind another curtain getting an non-ambulatory and non-cognitive resident ready for lunch, and they were just being obnoxious with the things they said about the resident. They cursed, laughed, and even judged the resident. I almost wanted to cry because of the fact that the resident was incapable of understanding their words; inside, she has entrusted her care to these people, and instead of loving and caring, they mocked the resident. As for me, I kindly walked over there and said, "excuse me." I didn't want to say anything further because I potentially could have offended them, and conflict was the last thing I wanted during clinicals.
It bewilders me when people work at a place that requires love, patience, and perseverance, but these people harbor hatred, judgment, and intolerance.
Sometimes, I wish I didn't understand so many languages so that I don't have to hear hate coming from people's lips. It puts me in an awkward situation because when they do find out that I understand, they start acting weird around me.
I recall being in a room with a colleague and her resident; two NA-Cs were behind another curtain getting an non-ambulatory and non-cognitive resident ready for lunch, and they were just being obnoxious with the things they said about the resident. They cursed, laughed, and even judged the resident. I almost wanted to cry because of the fact that the resident was incapable of understanding their words; inside, she has entrusted her care to these people, and instead of loving and caring, they mocked the resident. As for me, I kindly walked over there and said, "excuse me." I didn't want to say anything further because I potentially could have offended them, and conflict was the last thing I wanted during clinicals.
It bewilders me when people work at a place that requires love, patience, and perseverance, but these people harbor hatred, judgment, and intolerance.
Sometimes, I wish I didn't understand so many languages so that I don't have to hear hate coming from people's lips. It puts me in an awkward situation because when they do find out that I understand, they start acting weird around me.
Post #2: Prayer
I feel so grateful every day when I step into our clinical setting, and Professor Haldeman starts the day out with a prayer; at the end of the day, she sends us off with a prayer as well. It is really teaching & reminding me of the importance of allowing God to work through us when we interact with our patients. I truly do feel the presence of God throughout the day when I work with my resident-- including the things I say to her, the things I do with her, and the way I treat her. I feel the Lord's presence guiding me through everything. I try to assume the best about people, but it is very possible that many of the residents at Cascade Vista probably do not know Jesus; it strikes me with grief to know that these people are reaching the end of their lives and they have no clue who our savior is. I just want to talk to every single one about Jesus, but obviously that's not the right thing to do in our situation. What should we do in these situations... not just in the clinical setting now, but in the future when we are registered nurses? If somebody is dying and does not know Christ, do we just let them die and suffer from eternal damnation? Or do we take the chance and risk our job to possibly give them a chance at salvation?
Post #1: The Insane Woman Downstairs & ADPIE
I live with my roommate and friend, Brian, at an apartment complex in a fairly good neighborhood. Now, before I go any further with the story, you must know that I was a very sheltered child and young adult before coming to Northwest University. This is my first time being independent and being in an environment which I must care for myself and do things for myself. I am still adjusting and learning.
Just as I thought I was beginning to adjust, one fine Saturday morning, a hear a loud “banging” on my apartment door. To my surprise, it was the woman who lived below me, and she needed to talk to me about the loud “noises” that were coming from above her. I open the door slightly only to allow my head to peep out of the doorway, but to my dismay, the woman barges into my apartment with force and enters. She quickly storms to my dining table and sits herself down. I follow her over there, but as I enter the room, I quickly open the nearest window and begin to talk loudly to her so that anyone outside can hear.
The woman begins to curse and yell at me regarding the situation about noise from our apartment. I quickly assure her that we have not been making an obnoxious noises and that I am very sorry for the inconvenience. She is obviously very distraught and begins to slam her fist on my dining table.
I soon realize that the situation is beginning to appear very odd to me. She was sweating profusely, and her hands were shaking. The first thing that pops into my mind is A.D.P.I.E!!! I assessed her body language and her speech, and she appeared to me as being mentally distraught; if she was not already suffering from a condition, she was having a mental breakdown. I quickly diagnosed in my head the situation. (I did forget to mention that the woman was wearing a black trench-coat, and her facial appearance resembled a hooker). I immediately diagnosed that I was “at risk to being physically harmed related to a mentally insane hooker-woman in my apartment!”
I began to plan what I would do next once I had calmed her. I started to talk to her—not regarding the noise situation but about her situation. I told her that I was a nursing student and that I can help her. I asked her if she was seeing a physician, specifically a psychiatric one. She did not answer me but continued to curse and scream. I then asked her if she was on any medications. That question seemed to cause her to contemplate her situation, and while she was quiet, I quickly ran to grab my cell-phone and called 911.
I quickly began to implement my plan. I released my dog from his cage and he ran out to the lady and began barking loudly, and I dialed 911 and opened the front door and began to scream at her to leave.
Realizing that I had a plan, she dashed out of my apartment. The police arrived, and I filed my complaint. They told me to press charges and to file for a restraining order. I decided not to do so because deep, deep, deep inside, I felt bad for the woman. They did some research with the apartment complex’s manager and found out that the woman is mentally unstable and that she has a condition. The manager said she personally moved the woman in, and she knew that the woman had a certain disorder and was most likely on medications.
As the police left, I evaluated my nursing process, and although I could not smile at the time due to my fright, I was very proud of myself. I felt like a superhero. The only bad part that comes out of this story is that sometimes, I come home late at night, and I must walk in the dark to my apartment. I feel like that woman could be around any corner waiting for me. It really scares me, so part of my nursing process will be to buy some pepper spray!
Just as I thought I was beginning to adjust, one fine Saturday morning, a hear a loud “banging” on my apartment door. To my surprise, it was the woman who lived below me, and she needed to talk to me about the loud “noises” that were coming from above her. I open the door slightly only to allow my head to peep out of the doorway, but to my dismay, the woman barges into my apartment with force and enters. She quickly storms to my dining table and sits herself down. I follow her over there, but as I enter the room, I quickly open the nearest window and begin to talk loudly to her so that anyone outside can hear.
The woman begins to curse and yell at me regarding the situation about noise from our apartment. I quickly assure her that we have not been making an obnoxious noises and that I am very sorry for the inconvenience. She is obviously very distraught and begins to slam her fist on my dining table.
I soon realize that the situation is beginning to appear very odd to me. She was sweating profusely, and her hands were shaking. The first thing that pops into my mind is A.D.P.I.E!!! I assessed her body language and her speech, and she appeared to me as being mentally distraught; if she was not already suffering from a condition, she was having a mental breakdown. I quickly diagnosed in my head the situation. (I did forget to mention that the woman was wearing a black trench-coat, and her facial appearance resembled a hooker). I immediately diagnosed that I was “at risk to being physically harmed related to a mentally insane hooker-woman in my apartment!”
I began to plan what I would do next once I had calmed her. I started to talk to her—not regarding the noise situation but about her situation. I told her that I was a nursing student and that I can help her. I asked her if she was seeing a physician, specifically a psychiatric one. She did not answer me but continued to curse and scream. I then asked her if she was on any medications. That question seemed to cause her to contemplate her situation, and while she was quiet, I quickly ran to grab my cell-phone and called 911.
I quickly began to implement my plan. I released my dog from his cage and he ran out to the lady and began barking loudly, and I dialed 911 and opened the front door and began to scream at her to leave.
Realizing that I had a plan, she dashed out of my apartment. The police arrived, and I filed my complaint. They told me to press charges and to file for a restraining order. I decided not to do so because deep, deep, deep inside, I felt bad for the woman. They did some research with the apartment complex’s manager and found out that the woman is mentally unstable and that she has a condition. The manager said she personally moved the woman in, and she knew that the woman had a certain disorder and was most likely on medications.
As the police left, I evaluated my nursing process, and although I could not smile at the time due to my fright, I was very proud of myself. I felt like a superhero. The only bad part that comes out of this story is that sometimes, I come home late at night, and I must walk in the dark to my apartment. I feel like that woman could be around any corner waiting for me. It really scares me, so part of my nursing process will be to buy some pepper spray!
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