The Call Button is Broken

"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." 

- Maya Angelou 

I carry the above quote with me, wherever I go. It began in the classroom, what seems a lifetime ago, as a tutor. One fall day, my students were asked to read independently; however, they were to be on the lookout for a passage/quote that stood out to them and to write it down on a separate piece of paper. Upon the closure of the class (the last ten/fifteen minutes), each student was prompted share their quote by posting it on the wall for all to see, and explain what it meant to them – as well as do the same with their peers’. 

Maya Angelou’s quote was the one I chose, and consequently: the most popular (no, my kiddos didn’t know I posted the quote; fair/open discussion dictates that sometimes the tutor remain anonymous – translation: I didn’t want them to feel unnecessary pressure to appease me). When everything was said and done, each student had openly discussed topics beyond what is taught within four walls with a maturity and open-mindedness that most adults lack. It was, and to this day, remains one of my favorite memories of the classroom. 

It’s been five years since that golden moment, but the memory lingers – as does the aforementioned quote by Ms. Angelou (may she rest in peace). Her words inspired my former students, now high school graduates, to remember their shared humanity… to imagine each other complexly – the reason I chose it for my classroom, and why I carry it in my heart. 

Most importantly, I attribute Angelou’s words to the heart of medicine – and dare I say: the spine as well… to nurses.

It takes someone special to choose a career in medicine, but there’s something to be said of those who become nurses. To those whom interact with healthcare, whether as a physician or patient, it is no great secret that nurses are an integral part of patient care. Not to dismiss the physician’s role, nor, that of support/ancillary staff – as every single one of you are equally important – but man, nurses are on a level of their own and a force to be reckoned with.

They are the first to triage patients, and are the ones who connect with patients in ways most physicians cannot/are not able to for whatever reason. Nurses are the first and last person a patient sees, in the hospital/clinic; they are the most open about being emotionally vested in their patients. How can they not be? – They help patients bath, dress, ambulate (walk/move about), grieve/vent/laugh, provide comfort/prayer (even with the patient’s family), for goodness’ sake.

The difference in how patients and their loved ones respond to nurses, as opposed to doctors, is significant:

For example, to piss a nurse off is a grave mistake. Why? – Well… let’s see. Nurses start intravenous lines, insert catheters, take vitals (i.e. blood pressure: you know, the cuffs that strangle the hell out of your arm; oh, and let’s not forget those stethoscopes – which can be freezing at times), and perform a variety of other intimate tasks that are medically important: that you would never, in a million years, consider letting your loved ones do.

Rule #1 of Healthcare: DON’T ANGER THOSE WHO CAN LEGALLY INFLICT PAIN UPON YOUR PERSON… not that you will be assaulted, but some processes could be more uncomfortable/take more time than usual. 

Piss off a doctor and what happens? – You have an angry doctor who, depending on level of anger, dispos your care to another physician. If you’re a dangerous pain-in-the-neck, you get security.

Rule #2 of Healthcare: Remember Wheaton’s Law (don’t be a dick)… please be nice. Always. 

ANY WAY… I digress….

National Nurses Week, a week (technically, it is six days; not seven) designated to recognize our nation’s wonderful nurses, is coming to a close. Initially, it was an uphill battle to establish a singular day devoted to the heart of medicine: about eight years for one state (New Jersey; 1978) to officially recognize Nurses Day (May 6^th); twelve years for President Reagan (1982) to sign a proclamation that designated May 6^th as the official day to recognize the amazing work nurses do… although, it only took four years (1974) before President Nixon declared the first of its kind, National Nurses Week – but in February, as opposed to modern day, May.

Sheesh – leave it to the government to complicate things… it’s what they do well.

Since the end is near for such an auspicious occasion (May 12^th) – at least for corporations to suck up to the ones who make the wheels go round: I would like to honor nurses. I have out reached to the public, and asked for their help in creating this special blog. With their permission, I share their experiences with you. 

Dear Nurse,

Palliative care isn't easy - it's exhausting, emotionally taxing, and flat out hard. Taking care of a dying grandparent is one of the hardest things I've done in my life... but you made it easier. 

You were there on the sleepless nights; you were there to provide comfort, to give rest. You became a part of our family in those few days that you were in the house with us.

You swapped war stories with my uncles, cheered on the Tigers with my dad, gave my grandmother a much needed time of rest, and kept grandpa comfortable - and happy - until his final breath.

Thank you to all hospice and home care nurses. It takes a special person with a caring heart to do what you do.

My sincerest thanks this week and every week, for all that you do.

 

Dear Deb, 

Thank you for putting up with my frequent visits because of chronic pain. Also, thank you for helping me when others at the school called bluff on me. You knew there was something wrong, and you helped me when others refused to check me out: saying there was nothing medically wrong with me.

Also, thank you to the many nurses at the Mass General outpatient care center, for making me feel not scared during my many visits and always greeting me with a smile.

 

Dear Nurses at the psych ward in UCLA, 

Thank you. I was going through a rough patch, and you were there. You understood why I needed to knit, and craft, and you helped me figure out ways to do it even there. You listened to me when I was trying to fight through things, and gave me a safe space to breathe in. You even let me sleep in the common room when I was having roommate difficulties. You may not hear this often, but thank you. You are lifesavers.

 

 

Dear nurse at my primary doctor,

Thank you. Thank you for not treating me like a 5 year old when you found out I was afraid of needles. As someone who both has a phobia of needles and has this past January, started the long process of getting a dx [diagnosis] which of course involves a million blood draws, I thank you for treating me like a grownup. Most nurses try to baby me, which always just makes the process longer. Thank you for just getting done what needs to be done.

 

I was at Baylor Grapevine three times, last summer. During two of those visits, I had the same nurse: Betsy. I was struggling with allergic reactions and would stop breathing during sleep.  Betsy was in my room every single time I opened my eyes!  It was her notification to my doctor, that let him know I wasn't well. I am grateful for her dutiful observations.

 

I was just six weeks post having my first son, when I started getting severe pains. It was determined that I had gallbladder disease, and had to have it removed ASAP. So, in August of 2005, I arrived at Plaza Medical Center of Fort Worth and had surgery. Three days later, I returned and was admitted. The pain had returned and was even worse than before: I couldn't walk and had shallow breathing – so, they [the doctors] kept me for two whole weeks, running test after test.

I woke up one morning so upset, so torn – my seven week old baby had gone two weeks without his mom. TWO WEEKS! The nurse came in to check on me that morning, Pat was her name: my sweet savior, Pat! I looked at her and said, “I will rip out my own IVs, so I can get home to my baby! – The doctor better have news today…”

She replied, "Let me see what I can do". Ten minutes later, Pat returned and said, “They are bringing you breakfast. If you can hold it down, they will release you this afternoon”. MUSIC TO MY EARS... She then proceeded to grab my hand, and said, “I have one favor to ask”. I said sure! After that: anything!!! I didn’t expect what she would say to me, next.

She said, “I lost my son at the age of twenty-one, to suicide, on Thanksgiving of last year. Could I please hold your baby, for just a minute?” We both cried. I couldn't imagine losing a child such a way. So, I had my baby brought up to the hospital. She held him so closely, and sang to him softly as I was getting dressed. She handed him back and said, “You’re an amazing mom, and I will forever pray over you and this sweet baby. May God bless you in the years to come.”

And, He sure did. After all these years, and three other babies, I feel confident that I have been divinely blessed.

How do you thank those who have done so much? Words are a dime a dozen, as the old adage goes – but in truth: it’s more complicated than that. It’s a combination of verbal and non-verbal cues (i.e. actions)… it’s why Maya Angelou was spot on, when she said that people will remember how you make them feel. 

So, to retired and current nurses:

Thank you.