Nurses care for all sorts of people, often those we’d never dream of interacting with outside the job.
“Unconditional positive regard” is the aim but that can be severly tested, is not always deserved, not always able to be given.
Some days there’s no better job than this. Other days it’s cooked, it’s a lot. You’ve no idea.
I had a week (not that long ago) of caring for the violent, the floridly mentally unwell, the sexually inappropriate (well only one of them thank god)
I’d been overdue, too many ‘nice’ shifts, too calm for too long.
First up, angry impatient woman, spitting her racial abuse at my delightful colleague. Outraged I calmly gave the speech, “Not acceptable…” “Here to help.….” “Do NOT speak to us like that….”
Great start.
Moving on, chatty, twitchy, shambolic woman (boyfriend in toe) disinhibited, appears in the corridor stark naked, “Oops, in you go, shut this door while you change.”
He, the moment I laid eyes on, my gut told me ‘NOPE’ loud and clear.
Too jumpy, too in-your-face, too chatty, “yes miss, no miss”, fawning but with an undercurrent, a potential to go mental.
A memory surfaces from years ago, tiny nurse, similar crazy (Glaswegian) bloke, a punch, a black-eye.
Not having that here today. All staff on alert.
As predicted his behaviour did escalate when calmly told “no, sorry you can’t stay” “I’M NOT LEAVING HER, I’M STAYING RIGHT HERE!!”
Aah, nope, no yer not.
Plan already in place quickly actioned, security called (low bar these days)
They arrive, calm, ready for anything, their bulky presence always a relief, “you nurses don’t need to be dealing with this.”
That’s right, we don’t.
Next day, a young woman, pacing up and down, shouty, swearing, demanding, desperate. Quick risk- assessment made, genuine distress evident underneath the ranting. De- escalation works, quiet room, warm blankets, listening ear. “Hate hospitals …” “Brother died …” Sympathy for her little-girl self.
Then onto inappropriate, IV drug user bloke, bones broken, in need of our help. Uncovered, (mistake?) uncaring, boldly continues eye-contact while touching himself. Skin crawls. Immediate removal, curtains shut. What the ….
No male nurses on shift, plan going forward, two attending at all times, quickly, no eye contact. Shudder. Next shift will be warned.
Next day, different place, an instant tsunami of competing issues on handover ….
Dangerously high blood sugar. New covid +ve diagnosis. Pain crisis. Some agitation. Hints of verbal abuse to come. A blocked picc. A blocked iv cannula (drugs due now, of course)
Predicting a morally injurious shift, I actually planned to leave. I didn’t. It was. Sigh.
Later ‘workload concern’ form submitted, all events shared, in detail, every F word, every C word, all deranged behaviour directed our way.
Finally, rounding off the week, in the midst of a ‘how many pairs of hands do they think I have?’ kind of a shift. Patients all elderly ❤️, no one can walk, leg ulcer dressings, seventy billion meds to dispense, charts to decipher, pharmacists to chase.
Then amidst it all, a wee moment of grace. Intellectually disabled man, sat in his chair, waiting patiently, poor sight, poor hearing, HOOTS with laughter as comedian nurse helps him stand then wheels him, dances him, SWIRLS him across the floor to the shower.
His day brightened, mine too.
Later, driving home, nose-to-tail traffic in little shitbox car, back in ma garden thinking, it’s all good, everything’s perfect. There’s nothing to complain about here.