A TREE BY THE SEA

Reflections of a Bedside Nurse

When I’m exhausted and my soul is bruised what should I do to be soothed? What will stop the ache and unwind the knot coiled in my chest? What will still the race beneath my breast? What brushes away the lingering death?

You know I’ve tried to numb my mind with the most ridiculous distraction I can find. A television show with a sensational plot. A game on my phone that I played until my eyes crossed. Well I’ve lost hours avoiding feelings that I think I shouldn’t feel suppressing any real chance to heal. Maybe I’ll have that glass of wine, a few pieces of chocolate, another slice of pie.

What should I do to forget your tears? To let go after you’ve clung to my hand as you faced your deepest fears?

Like I’ve been told I do just need to let you go. Your burdens are not mine to hold. But how do I really know if I have released your grief. As your worst day drenched you in pain some of it splashed on me, maybe my heart is stained. Like flecks of blood dotting my scrubs.

Most days it’s just a little urine or stool, some vomit or mucous on a stray tissue. You are embarrassed when you’ve soiled your bed. I see your look of shame even after I’ve said, “Please don’t worry, ” and have assured you I don’t mind. This is my job, of course I have the time to wash you, change all of your linen’s, and get you a clean gown. I know I can count on other nurses to jump in if I start to drown. It’s not these things about my job that I dread.  It’s not a day of these endless tasks I have trouble getting out of my head.

The things you worry about I try to consider too. The noise in the hall and the temperature of your food. You’ll never know that I’m concerned about my patient in the other room who I think may need to transfer to the ICU, as I smile and ask, “Is there anything else that I can do for you?”

There are days that I go over each thing that I did. I think back over every med. Did I chart those vitals when I adjusted that drip? Was that headache really just a migraine or was there a bleed we missed? Some nights I lay down to sleep and the anxiety from the day we shared keeps me wide awake. I hate to admit that I’m scared, but what if I made a mistake?

Each life that I touch matters to me. I strive to do everything perfectly, but even in perfection things can go wrong. A vesicant infiltrates, a stat lab needs to be redrawn. So how do I reconcile my flaws? How do I recover from the shock once the code team is gone?

I know by now that it’s time to move on, yet as I’ve stood there doing your post mortem care, intentionally staying composed I think a piece of me froze. The piece that used to cry over other’s tears, but now can laugh at the darkest joke. The tender place that over the years has slowly stopped caring or so I had hoped.

Yet when it comes to caring I think I’ve lied to myself. Now these unfelt feelings force me to ask for help. I thought I was strong to go on with my day. Accept a few hugs and say I’m okay. Except these nights I’m awake thinking of nothing at all. My subconscious attempting to stall, to keep me safe at home in my bed behind my walls…Instead I’ll take more sleeping pills, listen to calming music, overcome my head with my will. Attempt to fill a tired mind with that elusive peace we all struggle to find.

To be perfect. To be strong. We know these words don’t really belong. We know we are fallible and we are weak as we battle with you against your disease. We know death can be stalled but never appeased. And as I carefully wash you and tuck you into a plastic sheet, I am reminded that one day this will be me. I think I’ve found peace when I’ve forgiven myself. When I’ve realized no matter how much I strive to help, the outcome would be the same. Your story wouldn’t have changed.

So I am left here with the option of Grace. I’m not only speaking of the unmerited favor bestowed from God upon man. That grace can be difficult for us to understand. I’m talking about the release to breathe. When anxiety threatens to seize a tentative peace. It’s a grace that reminds me to accept my own favor even when undeserved. It tells me to see goodness and kindness in the lessons I’ve learned. It gives me faith to believe that joy still remains, despite the darkness and in light of the pain. It’s a grace that says there is just one thing I can control. Myself. Only I can guide my soul. It reminds me to be gentle as I relive my day. Acknowledge suppressed emotions and allows me to face all of my failures and know it’s okay.

To love someone else means you also have to love yourself. So be patient if the peace is slow to come, and remember grace is yours, just ask yourself for some.