As a nurse, I often feel spread thin.
I do EVERYTHING that I can to ensure that I have given my patient the best possible care. If it means putting lunch off, holding my bladder, or biting my tongue, I do it. Most recently I have worked with a variety of patients who don't even think to say "please" or "thank you". Some days I just want to pull out my hair or make a snide remark like: "This isn't a freaking five-star resort".
Of course I bite my tongue.
The other portion of patients I care for are the ones that take a piece of my heart with them, and leave a piece of theirs with me. I recieved a message from the family of one of the patients I cared for a couple months back. To be completely honest with you, I've thought of this woman and her family often. But I never thought that they'd remember me. I want to remember it, so I'm writing it down (like Lauren said to do) for the days that I feel like I just can't be a nurse anymore. And I'm sharing it with you (Yes I am aware there are typos, but I couldn't bring myself to change them because it wasn't written by me). Here it is:
I sobbed.
I kept thinking about how much more I could have done as her nurse. I have the sacred responsibility of caring for God's children in their most vulnerable moments. When they are scared. When there are no answers. When their lives change forever. When their bodies betray them. When their minds are lost. When they can't care for themselves. And when their families grieve for the loss of the person their family member used to be. They look to us as healthcare professionals to make things right.
I didn't know whether to curse God for taking such a loving and loveable soul from this world or to find peace in knowing Him and rejoice in His plan of happiness. I didn't know whether to be angry at Him for feeling so much hurt or to run to him with arms wide open so He could succor me.
In the end, I ran to Him full speed.
In the end, I begged him for understanding. I begged him for peace. I begged him to comfort the people that loved her. She left this world entirely too quickly. The last 7 weeks have been devastatingly harsh on her mind, body, and soul. And yet, I can't be angry, because I know she is whole and revived and walking with God. And one day we'll be there too. I don't always understand why things happen the way they do. My lens only shows so much of the picture. But I know the Lord can see the big picture. And sometimes, all I can do is trust in Him and know that one day everything will be made right.
I do EVERYTHING that I can to ensure that I have given my patient the best possible care. If it means putting lunch off, holding my bladder, or biting my tongue, I do it. Most recently I have worked with a variety of patients who don't even think to say "please" or "thank you". Some days I just want to pull out my hair or make a snide remark like: "This isn't a freaking five-star resort".
Of course I bite my tongue.
The other portion of patients I care for are the ones that take a piece of my heart with them, and leave a piece of theirs with me. I recieved a message from the family of one of the patients I cared for a couple months back. To be completely honest with you, I've thought of this woman and her family often. But I never thought that they'd remember me. I want to remember it, so I'm writing it down (like Lauren said to do) for the days that I feel like I just can't be a nurse anymore. And I'm sharing it with you (Yes I am aware there are typos, but I couldn't bring myself to change them because it wasn't written by me). Here it is:
"Jessie-not sure if you remember me or not, but you took care of my precious Mom back in September...she was the one that invited you to thanksgiving dinner (C.S.). My Momma was called home this morning and is now in heaven I just wanted to thank you for everything you did and were in those days spend in the icu. I know you brought light to my mom's world and that was something she needed especially in those first days. I truly cannot thank you enough for your professionalism, excellent care, and simply going above and beyond what we have ever seen a nurse do!" --J.S.
I sobbed.
I kept thinking about how much more I could have done as her nurse. I have the sacred responsibility of caring for God's children in their most vulnerable moments. When they are scared. When there are no answers. When their lives change forever. When their bodies betray them. When their minds are lost. When they can't care for themselves. And when their families grieve for the loss of the person their family member used to be. They look to us as healthcare professionals to make things right.
I didn't know whether to curse God for taking such a loving and loveable soul from this world or to find peace in knowing Him and rejoice in His plan of happiness. I didn't know whether to be angry at Him for feeling so much hurt or to run to him with arms wide open so He could succor me.
In the end, I begged him for understanding. I begged him for peace. I begged him to comfort the people that loved her. She left this world entirely too quickly. The last 7 weeks have been devastatingly harsh on her mind, body, and soul. And yet, I can't be angry, because I know she is whole and revived and walking with God. And one day we'll be there too. I don't always understand why things happen the way they do. My lens only shows so much of the picture. But I know the Lord can see the big picture. And sometimes, all I can do is trust in Him and know that one day everything will be made right.
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