Homage to Nurses

Kaiser Hospital recently announced it is laying off nurses at two of its clinics in the North Bay.  Those of us who have regular encounters with healthcare providers know that nurses provide the human touch to a profession that’s increasingly impersonal. Although technology like Zoom provides new opportunities to meet with doctors, in medical settings like hospitals it’s nurses who provide comfort and care. Theirs is a largely unsung profession, unglamorous and not headline grabbing, but nursing is a critically important part of medical care.

I deeply appreciate doctors and the efforts they make – they’ve saved my life – but in a hospital setting, patient/doctor interactions are not all that frequent. In this age of medical specialization, a surgeon, for example, visits a patient just prior to a procedure, and perhaps drops by afterwards, and that’s it. The level of interaction is minimal. Nurses, on the other hand, are in attendance for a full 8-hour shift, and on call constantly.

Being in the hospital is a miserable experience. It’s noisy, busy, intrusive, uncomfortable, and sometimes scary. Sleeping for an extended period is impossible. Patients in the hospital are generally having the worst moments of their lives, the most painful and uncertain. Anxiety increases, frequently accompanied by confusion. Nurses ease the trauma of medical care by listening, offering suggestions, and sometimes just showing kindness by gently holding the hand of someone who’s suffering.

I’ve been a patient in the hospital many times for a few days of testing, a minimal surgical procedure, or because of a major medical event. In my early thirties I needed to have a tissue sample taken from my heart. It was a procedure conducted with a catheter attached to tiny snipping tool, and because I was fully awake during the process, I was nervous about it. A nurse sensed my anxiety, and just as the cardiologist began to slowly snake the catheter from my groin to my heart, she took my hand in hers and held it gently but firmly. I immediately felt cared for, was better able to relax, and all went well. I have never forgotten that act of kindness, and the many other acts of compassion and understanding, small and large, that I have received from nurses over my many years.

While my late wife Norma was hospitalized a few months ago, it was a nurse who helped me fulfil Norma’s wishes about life-saving treatment options. Although she had signed a POLST form (which I suggest for everyone) that specifies the level of treatment to be provided during a serious medical emergency, the hospital was in full life-saving mode. Six IV pumps simultaneously delivered bags of various medications and substances, a breathing mask covered Norma’s face, and X-rays, Sonograms and Echocardiograms were ordered and performed. As the hours drew on, it was obvious to me, however, that my dear wife was dying and I knew she did not want extraordinary efforts taken to keep her alive. We discussed it many times.

The nurse could see that I was upset, and she took me aside to talk. She carefully explained what specific words I needed to use with the doctor to begin “comfort care” which would bring a halt to the rush of tests, equipment, and medications and replace them with procedures to insure Norma’s comfort. I followed her instructions, and her end came peacefully with the nurse’s help. I honor her kindness.