The following are letters to patients I have encountered - most of the time not one specific person, but an amalgamation of experiences I had in which I had these things to say. I promise not to share any individual private health information. No names will ever be used.
Dear patients of a student nurse,
Thank you for your patience. Thank you for your understanding. Thank you for allowing me to observe and to participate in some of the most personal and emotional moments of your lives, your struggles, your illnesses and your successes. It must be hard to have an inexperienced person aiming a needle at your vein, or touching and examining your body with shaking hands. But you, dear patients, are the reason why there are great nurses. Experience makes great nurses, and those willing to share experience are to be credited with the improvement of quality healthcare. So thank you for letting me watch, try, practice, etc. and please know that I am so grateful to have you share in my life and my learning.
* * *
Dear intracranial bleed guy,
When I first met you, I was scared to take care of you. Mostly, because you were unable to tell me if I was hurting you, or making you feel better. You couldn't tell me if you were angry, or content. And my biggest fear was that you were uncomfortable or upset and you knew, but could not let me know. I hated when other people in the room would talk about you like you were not there. Could you hear, and understand the conversation? When you weren't my patient anymore, you began to improve. You were able to respond to questions with head movements and eye blinks, and the therapists were hopeful that you would be talking soon. That made me so happy. I wish that I had the chance now, to have a conversation with you and see what it was like for you when you were unable to communicate. I wish I knew what it was like so I could know what to do better next time.
* * *
Dear tiny NICU butterflies, warm and still in your little isolette coccoons, fighting for your life after what could only have been a startling and overwhelming introduction to us and the rest of the world. We will do our best to protect you, like your mother's womb, and fight for you, until you are big and strong enough to do it on your own. You just grow. Grow and develop, and that's your only job. And if the burden becomes too great, and you must go with God, then we will be glad to have met you, and touched your tiny toes, and cradled your tiny head for just a little while. And we will support your parents, as they grieve the loss of their tiny angel, and prepare to go home without the baby they were so hopeful for.
* * *
Dear angels of the PICU,
You are so small and sick and my heart breaks for you. I know all those machines you are attached to are saving your life, but I can only imagine how scary it must be, for you and for your family who love you so. I hope you make it out of here, to go back home, back to school, back to your childhood. God bless the nurses and doctors who are doing their best to make sure that happens. We're all on your side.
***
Dear tonsillectomy toddler,
You are the cutest thing since puppies. I know you were feeling kind of crummy when we first met, but the second night we were buddies, you were a little wild man. I knew you must be feeling so much better with your chocolate cake face and your fruit roll-up fingers. Thank you for being my pal for two nights in a row, and for making my night shift a little more fun, and restoring my confidence in my pediatric assessment skills. Take your Mommy and Daddy home now so they can finally get some sleep.
Dear first transplant patient,
I'm so sorry they drugged you up so much in IR that you had to sit down on the floor to rest - and that bought you a nutty roommate in a room closer to the nurse's station with a bed alarm and everything. Thank you for re-affirming my faith in my assessment skills, although I'm sorry I didn't think of pancreatitis when I palpated your abdomen and you almost got up and ran away from the hospital. Good thing your doctors are S-M-A-R-T smart! And now I know that pancreatitis can be a result of an EGD or an ERCP - I won't forget!
Dear lovely liver transplant lister,
I am so glad I got to meet you and take care of you. I am glad to have met your family as well. I wish I could have done more to ease your pain and sadness. I will never forget your sweetness, or the love you shared with your strong family. A nurse told me later that they all came to be with you as you made your way to heaven. May you rest in peace.
Dear multiple myeloma man,
You crack me up! I appreciate your sense of humor in a setting where many would not be able to laugh. I'm sorry you didn't make the Kansas U. basketball team in 1954. And I'm sorry your sweet wife is dealing with so many health issues of her own. I think you are a sweetheart for calling her an angel because she has put up with you for so long. I was glad to meet you and hear some stories. Thank you for reminding me how much I love oncology nursing!
***
Dear first transplant patient,
I'm so sorry they drugged you up so much in IR that you had to sit down on the floor to rest - and that bought you a nutty roommate in a room closer to the nurse's station with a bed alarm and everything. Thank you for re-affirming my faith in my assessment skills, although I'm sorry I didn't think of pancreatitis when I palpated your abdomen and you almost got up and ran away from the hospital. Good thing your doctors are S-M-A-R-T smart! And now I know that pancreatitis can be a result of an EGD or an ERCP - I won't forget!
***
Dear lovely liver transplant lister,
I am so glad I got to meet you and take care of you. I am glad to have met your family as well. I wish I could have done more to ease your pain and sadness. I will never forget your sweetness, or the love you shared with your strong family. A nurse told me later that they all came to be with you as you made your way to heaven. May you rest in peace.
***
Dear multiple myeloma man,
You crack me up! I appreciate your sense of humor in a setting where many would not be able to laugh. I'm sorry you didn't make the Kansas U. basketball team in 1954. And I'm sorry your sweet wife is dealing with so many health issues of her own. I think you are a sweetheart for calling her an angel because she has put up with you for so long. I was glad to meet you and hear some stories. Thank you for reminding me how much I love oncology nursing!
