NJM02 in NoJoMo 2104

2.Things you’ve done that you previously thought you could never do.
Oh wow. There have been so many things…so many things that I thought I could never do and then discovered that I could, indeed, do them. I can’t possibly write about all of them in one entry. But, maybe I can write about the latest thing I did that I thought I couldn’t do.

I’ve been a nurse since 1991. For those of you who don’t feel like doing the math, that’s 23 years. In all that time, I’ve never once had a patient or anyone connected to a patient complain about me. Never. Until about a month ago. It was something that I was pretty sure that I would never be able to get over if it happened to me.

I can’t really give any details, because if anyone who knows me from work reads this, they would instantly know who I am, who the patient was, and which of his family members attacked me in this way. But, what I can tell you is that I did my very best for this man. I cared for him the way I would have wanted someone to care for my father. When other nurses rolled their eyes and complained about how often he used his call light, or worse…forgot he had a call light and just yelled out…I went to him and answered his questions, gave him water, adjusted his position, fiddled with the a/c, changed his tv channel, found a different cd for him to listen to, turned lights off and on…in addition to more skilled nursing tasks like pain med, blood sugar monitoring, physical assessments, and the like. And I did it all with a kind attitude, gentle hands, and a smile. I am proud of the work I did with this man. But, the one thing I couldn’t do was make him outlive his diagnosis. He was terminally ill and slipping fast. I didn’t agree with every decision he and his loved ones made, but I supported their right to make those decisions and I respected them. In the end, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that I couldn’t make him live. So, a family member wrote a long, vicious complaint, wherein I was described as the “laziest, most slothful, ill-prepared, uneducated nurse, EVER”.

I can’t tell you how far down into my gut that my poor heart fell. Standing there in my supervisor’s office, I think I forgot how to breathe for a full minute. I had seen this happen to other nurses. Sometimes deserved. Often enough, not. Before I could form a coherent response, my supervisor said to me, “Don’t worry, Jae. This happens to all of us, sooner or later. I’ve reviewed the chart, and I’ve seen you in action enough to know what sort of nurse you are. All she did was spew anger…when asked, she had no specific examples of anything you did wrong. You are not in any trouble. I just wanted you to see this here, in my office, instead of hearing about it elsewhere.”

I told myself that grief does strange things to people. That, sometimes, they have to have an outlet for all that grief. That, sometimes, when they are afraid of their anger, they need someone safe to unleash it upon. It wasn’t personal…I was just…there.

I cried all the way home that day.

And, the next day, I went to work…I got over it and did the very damned best job I know how to do for everyone assigned to my care. Because they deserve my best.

Last updated November 02, 2014