Author: Diane Stallings, RN - LeAnn Thieman CoAuthor
I was a young nurse with nothing in common with the grannies and grandpas on the orthopedic surgical floor. I was glad of that and glad to leave them at the end of my shift.
Nothing rattled me much- -until the gangrene lady. Both of this patient’s calves were decaying. Fortunately, I had never been her primary nurse, but had only helped other nurses change the dressings. I held the heels up while the attending nurse irrigated the wounds and wrapped the bandages. I tried to look out the window to I wouldn’t have to look at the decaying flesh. I breathed from the corner of my mouth to avoid the stench.
I’d been lucky not to be assigned the gangrene lady until now. But today was my turn.
"Emma Palmer had her dressings done at six," the charge nurse told me, "and she’s going to surgery at ten for a bi-lateral above the knee amputation."
Whew, I thought, I don’t have to mess with those legs. What a relief.
I held my breath against the odor as I entered her room. "How you doing there, Mrs. Palmer?"
"Hmm?” The old woman glanced at me and looked away. She was thin, her skin browned by the sun and robbed of moisture. Her long white hair fanned out behind her head. I helped her sit forward and placed the stethoscope against her back. "Take a deep breath." I decided not to peel back the covers to check her legs. No need. Mrs. Palmer would have fresh healthy stumps this afternoon.
"Surgery's at ten o'clock," I said. "You're going to feel a lot better by tomorrow."
"Why do you say that?" The woman turned her eyes on me. "My legs don't hurt."
"You'll be healthier."
"Hmm."
"It's all for the best. There's really no other choice. And they'll teach you how to walk again." I gave Emma’s hand a quick squeeze.
Tears welled up in the old woman’s eyes. I couldn't handle this. "I'll be back in a little while," I blurted, and went to pass pills to other patients.
Dolores was working that day. She was an older nurse, competent in every way, though she wore false eyelashes and a big poofy hairdo with ringlets. I always felt apprehensive working alongside her because I knew Dolores was a much better nurse than I was. Dolores gave me occasional suggestions and was always right—and I hated to be wrong. I knew I was still learning, but it disturbed my to be corrected by one who looked so ridiculous.
It was nine o'clock when Dolores caught me in the hall and asked how my
morning was going.
"Good," I replied. "I've got everything under control."
Dolores smiled as we walked toward the nurses' station. I had an itch to get away.
"How about that surgery?" she asked softly. "Emma Palmer?"
"It's all ready."
"I took care of Emma yesterday," said Dolores. "Such a shame, what's
happening to her."
We both glanced into Mrs. Palmer's room to see her dangling at the foot of her bed, weeping and watching the hallway for help!
"Oh, she's crying!" Dolores raced to her bedside. She put an arm around Mrs. Palmer's neck, the other arm under her bandaged legs, and scooped her gently into bed.
I couldn't imagine getting that close to those legs with bare arms.
"Didn't your family come to see you yet?" Dolores asked.
"N-no," Emma sniffled. "I don't have any family."
"Oh, honey," Dolores sat down on the mattress and hugged her close.
Emma sobbed out loud and hung her head on Dolores' shoulder.
I stepped back and swallowed.
"Oh, Emma." Dolores began to rock her soothingly. "It's all right. No, it's really not all right, is it?"
Emma let loose a bigger flood of tears. Her mouth opened wide but speechless.
"Yeah, it's the pits, it sure is," said Dolores, her strong arms wrapped
around those frail shoulders.
Emma cried out, "How will I ever manage?"
I felt incompetent, awkward and useless as I began to understand the depth of this career and how shallow I had chosen to make it. Would I ever be able to give from the heart as much as Dolores did, so easily, so naturally?
I walked to the bed, sat on the other side of Emma and placed my hand on her leg. "I know how, Emma. I'll help you."
Diane Stallings, R.N.
Those young nurses have a lot to learn from us old ones- - and we old ones have a lot to learn from the young. We need to mentor each other- -to build each other up, not bring each other down. We need to stop the complaining and negative talk at work- - stop the “stinkin’ thinkin.’” This new bi-monthly column will remind us to do just that. By sharing true stories from Chicken Soup for the Nurse’s Soul, and Chicken Soup for the Nurse’s Soul, Second Dose, we’ll learn lessons from our fellow nurses that can teach us to how to mentor each other. We have so much to share -
LeAnn Thieman L.P.N.
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©2007 John T. Canfield and Hansen and Hansen LLC |
About the Author
LeAnn Thieman LPN, CSP is a nationally acclaimed professional speaker, author and nurse and the coauthor of Chicken Soup for the Nurse’s Soul and Chicken Soup for the Nurse’s Soul, Second Dose. To learn more about her books or her speaking presentations see her website at www.NurseRecruitmentandRetention.com.
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