Nurses: At the heart of healthcare
- Mid-May 2003
In celebration of National Nursing Week, we asked NHS nurses about nursing experiences that have touched their hearts - and their stories certainly left imprints on our hearts, too. Here are some of their letters.
» Nursing is a profession where we work with people every day. There are good days and not so good days, and there are some days that you just never forget.
It is not always the happy things that nurses remember, but those of significance that show us just what it takes to be a nurse. One such event for me happened about 14 years ago. I was working the night shift in the ER. At about 6 a.m. a car pulled up to the ambulance doors, and a man rushed in saying his wife had delivered a baby in the car on the way to the hospital. Two of us rushed down, grabbing a blanket on the way. The woman was in the front passenger seat with the baby between her legs.
I scooped up the baby and placenta and went quickly into the resuscitation room while the second nurse took care of the mum, transporting her down to the delivery suite. The baby was blue and unresponsive and the code was called. As we worked on the baby it became apparent that there were a number of problems with her, and a paediatrician was called in. The end of the shift came and replacement nurses came in to relieve us. Not one nurse left.
When the paediatrician finally decided that there was nothing else we could do in our attempt to help this baby, she asked every person in the room to make sure we were all okay with calling off the resuscitation efforts. The doctor then took the baby in her arms, washed her, baptized her and said a prayer. She wrapped the baby in a warm blanket and carried her in her arms down to the mother.
The room was pretty quiet as we cleaned up the equipment and ourselves. It was a reminder of how precious life is and how sometimes, despite everything we try to do, our patients do not make it. It is also a reminder that we can show our caring and compassion in the little things we do – and nurses do these things every day.
Helen Taylor, RN, MScN,
Welland Hospital Site
» Have you ever noticed that it's the small things you do for sick people that often make the biggest difference? What they remember and thank you for are often things as simple as bringing a warm blanket, or stopping once in a while to say "how are you doing?" or remembering to go back to the waiting room to let a loved one know the doctor will be in to update them soon. It's not that you ran in and did a cardiogram that the patient remembers; but that you brought them a nice cool face cloth or a bit of mouthwash after they vomited. Sure, nurses have a lot of great technical skills, but let's face it, you don't nurse the machines; it's still the person that you're nursing. When I can effectively communicate to someone that I care, that's what touches my heart.
Garry Naven Barker, RPN, Emergency,
St. Catharines General Site
» This story began approximately 23 years ago when a fellow named Karl was vacationing from Germany with his friend in Port Colborne. Karl, 20, decided to try hand gliding. Unfortunately, his hand glider caught the wind the wrong way, and he ended up at PCGH frightened, alone, and unable to speak any English, with a fractured pelvis, two broken legs and very badly bruised.
Karl soon became the hospital's star patient. He was trapped in bed in a Balkan frame, with a long rocky road ahead of him. His stay lasted six months, and he did learn some English. With no family or friends from his home in Germany, a German-speaking health care aide and a German-speaking nurse befriended him. He was actually spoiled! They brought him German cooking and were basically surrogate mothers to him.
Unfortunately, Karl developed post-op complications and a fatty embolism and ended up also spending some time in ICU. With his fighting spirit and lots of encouragement from the hospital staff including kitchen and housekeeping staff, Karl recuperated nicely. There was a farewell party for him complete with cake and all the trimmings. Karl looked great in his new baseball cap. When it was time to return home, our German-speaking health care aide accompanied him on his flight. He is now married with two children, but continues to keep in touch with us.
Joan Martinelli, RN, ICU,
Port Colborne General Site
» A few years ago I was working in Florida and a patient, who was dying of AIDS, started telling me how he used to be famous. I had seen a lot of suffering on that floor and knew that when faced with death, many people try to glorify their existence and find some purpose for their lives.
I stopped doing what I was doing and gave the patient the time that he was desperately requesting of me. He pulled out an old, slightly faded photograph of himself and Anthony Quinn, Frank Sinatra and other famous stars. He was arm in arm with them. He went on to tell me that he had owned a very posh and exclusive night club/restaurant in New York City, and that all the stars were on a first name basis with him.
Then with a terribly sad look in his eye and a deep sigh, he said "No-one has visited me since they found out that I had AIDS. Nobody cares."
I looked him in the eye and asked, "Do you think you could give me an autographed picture? I have never met a celebrity like you." His eyes lighted up. He flourished the pen, and the picture was mine. He died three days later, but for that moment, he was not alone or forgotten.
Bill St. Croix, RN, Emergency,
Douglas Memorial Site
» John* was a troubled young man with heart disease that had progressed to the extent that he could no longer work. His only hope was for a cardiac transplant, which he had been assessed for and deemed not eligible to receive for a variety of reasons. He had used nicotine, alcohol, and street drugs to attempt to help him cope with life, and had many social and emotional problems as well. His life experiences showed physically. He presented as a weathered, hardened and unkempt man.
John was admitted to hospital with chest pain which was not being relieved by the maximum dose of analgesic that had been ordered. He was in pain and sometimes lashed out verbally and was labelled by some as a difficult patient and a drug seeker.
I was not assigned to care for John on this particular occasion, but I was aware of his distress and thought that perhaps I might be able to help. As well as being a Registered Nurse, I am a recognized Therapeutic Touch Practitioner.
I approached John, explained what therapeutic touch is, and obtained his consent to give him a treatment. He was "willing to try anything." After only a couple of minutes, I could see his response. His facial furrows softened, his hands unfolded, his shoulders dropped, his breathing deepened and slowed, and his heart rate decreased as indicated on the cardiac monitor. I could feel a sense of connection and peace. When I completed the treatment, John's eyes were closed and he was resting quietly.
I closed the door and left John to rest. I checked on him periodically, and it was over two hours later that he spoke with me. He shared that he had slept, and that his pain had been relieved. Also, to his amazement as he described it, he had cried – something he had not done since he was a child. He said, "I was sort of reliving my life." He made some decisions about particular aspects that he had been struggling with, for example, the teen-aged son with whom he had become estranged. John spoke with determination. For the duration of the rest of my shift, John was comfortable with respect to his pain.
The next time I encountered John was on a subsequent admission, when he introduced me to his young son. It was obvious that John had followed through with his determination. John thanked me for what I had done for him. It was gratifying to know that I had made a difference.
Unfortunately, John did die within a few years. As I record this experience, I can still feel that connection, that tug at my heart, that compassion felt for a fellow human being, that I experienced that day with John.
This is what nursing is all about, and why I have been practicing for almost 40 years.
(John* is a fictitious name to protect his identity)
Audrey W. Fletcher, RN,
Douglas Memorial Site
» My most dramatic experience as a nurse was my first orientation shift at Hospital for Sick Children's Emergency Room. I really liked working with children, so the chance to work at Sick Kids was a great opportunity. Most of what comes through the doors of the Sick Kids' ER is routine pediatric clinical issues such as high fevers, gastroenteritis, and respiratory infections. As the major pediatric referral centre for most of Ontario, however, the sickest and most critically ill pediatric patients often present for care.
On my first shift, a routine transfer of a two-year-old girl from north of Toronto was expected around noon. This patient was actually for direct transfer to the cardiology program for routine testing, and was not scheduled to go through the ER. This patient had a congenital heart condition known as restrictive cardiomyopathy, which prevents the heart from functioning effectively as a pump, leading to heart failure. This patient required a heart transplant for survival, and was on the transplant waiting list.
Since this was a routine transfer, a poor outcome was not imminent. However, about three to five minutes prior to the anticipated arrival of the ambulance, the patient's condition suddenly deteriorated. The ambulance crew diverted directly to the ER, and presented without an opportunity for prior notification of ER staff. The patient was breathing slow and shallow, with a diminished heart rate. Advanced cardiac life support was started and the cardiology team was paged. The father was present throughout all of the resuscitation measures, with the mother arriving about an hour later. Sadly, this little girl died despite the best medical care and facilities in Ontario.
What affected me most about this incident was the courage of the parents. The parents were obviously devastated at this unexpected and tragic loss, but they became outspoken advocates for raising awareness of organ donation and transplant. They appeared a short while later on local television to discuss their loss, and to share their support for organ donation and transplantation.
To see a little girl die is a heart-wrenching experience. Her parents' grief was palpable, but so was their courage. The professionalism and compassion of the ER and cardiology staff, particularly the nurses, was admirable. While this was a tragic start to my time at the Hospital for Sick Children, I found out that this was a world-class staff.
Scott Gibson, Nurse Practitioner, Primary Health Care Clinic,
Niagara-on-the-Lake Hospital Site