I was watching an old episode of "Scrubs" the other day. The topic of the show was 'Whats your best moment in medicine?'. I thought it was an interesting subject to blog about. When I stop to think about it, there isn't anything or any one specific instance, patient, or case I can recall that stands out as my personal best. I think there are many reasons for this. Mainly and most obviously, its because I don't do this for me. There is nothing about nursing that makes you do it for yourself. There isn't glory or badges to be earned. There isn't a big paycheck or a huge bonus waiting at the end of the week. Nursing is a selfless career filled with the most giving and unselfish people I have ever met. On that note, I also think there are so many wonderful, insightful, heart warming, heart wrenching, moving, jarring, and fundamental life changing moments to choose from, its really hard to pick just one and pinpoint it as my best.
If I really sit and think about this question (and I have--A LOT), then it becomes quite clear to me that the only possible answer isn't one big moment, but many small moments combined into a huge life lesson.
There are the tears of joy and the tears of sorrow. There are the moments of doubt and the moments of confidence. You feel the duality of every emotion imaginable. You question everything about yourself, your career, your choices and your ability to keep on fighting the good fight. Its at these junctures when you really find your personal "bests" in medicine. Each moment where you sit and ponder your next step. Each time you take the time to hold a hand or wash a face, its your best. I find its the small things that really make me feel the best about my job. Titrating drips, pushing meds, doing chest compressions, giving blood, replacing electrolytes....that's all part of it. But for me, my best moments come from things like painting the toe nails on my teenage girls', or holding the babies when they cry at night, or holding the hand of an old lady who is scared by the shadows. For me, being a nurse isn't so much about my best, but rather my patient's best moment.
One thing I can recall is not something I did. Its something I witnessed. One particularly bad night, I was walking down the hall toward the nurses station. We were slammed with some really sick people (several burns, a post code, a couple of kids, and some other trauma sickies). I was on with a great crew and I knew that no matter how deep we where in, we would be okay. But when you are that busy, you don't think about that final hour until its already gone. You focus on the tasks at hand and only see what you have left to do. I was focused on my patients crazy labs and what I would do next. While passing a room with a particularly sick patient, one whom suffered a head injury, I heard not the silence I expected, but this hauntingly beautiful song. It was Tura, Tura, Tura, an Irish Lullaby. I stood in utter amazement at this gorgeous song and thought that there would never be a more appropriate time to hear such a melody. I felt like I was in a trance, with all the other nurses whizzing by me. It was Val, one of our most experienced and outstanding nurses. She was singing to her patient, a song he hadn't heard since he was a child. He laid there quietly (something we all hadn't seen him do since his head injury) and listened to her sing. He cried when she finished, saying that his mother used to sing him to sleep with that song. He promptly (for the first time in weeks) fell into a peaceful sleep. At that moment, watching Val give her patient the one thing medicine itself could never provide, I knew that this was my best moment...
If I really sit and think about this question (and I have--A LOT), then it becomes quite clear to me that the only possible answer isn't one big moment, but many small moments combined into a huge life lesson.
There are the tears of joy and the tears of sorrow. There are the moments of doubt and the moments of confidence. You feel the duality of every emotion imaginable. You question everything about yourself, your career, your choices and your ability to keep on fighting the good fight. Its at these junctures when you really find your personal "bests" in medicine. Each moment where you sit and ponder your next step. Each time you take the time to hold a hand or wash a face, its your best. I find its the small things that really make me feel the best about my job. Titrating drips, pushing meds, doing chest compressions, giving blood, replacing electrolytes....that's all part of it. But for me, my best moments come from things like painting the toe nails on my teenage girls', or holding the babies when they cry at night, or holding the hand of an old lady who is scared by the shadows. For me, being a nurse isn't so much about my best, but rather my patient's best moment.
One thing I can recall is not something I did. Its something I witnessed. One particularly bad night, I was walking down the hall toward the nurses station. We were slammed with some really sick people (several burns, a post code, a couple of kids, and some other trauma sickies). I was on with a great crew and I knew that no matter how deep we where in, we would be okay. But when you are that busy, you don't think about that final hour until its already gone. You focus on the tasks at hand and only see what you have left to do. I was focused on my patients crazy labs and what I would do next. While passing a room with a particularly sick patient, one whom suffered a head injury, I heard not the silence I expected, but this hauntingly beautiful song. It was Tura, Tura, Tura, an Irish Lullaby. I stood in utter amazement at this gorgeous song and thought that there would never be a more appropriate time to hear such a melody. I felt like I was in a trance, with all the other nurses whizzing by me. It was Val, one of our most experienced and outstanding nurses. She was singing to her patient, a song he hadn't heard since he was a child. He laid there quietly (something we all hadn't seen him do since his head injury) and listened to her sing. He cried when she finished, saying that his mother used to sing him to sleep with that song. He promptly (for the first time in weeks) fell into a peaceful sleep. At that moment, watching Val give her patient the one thing medicine itself could never provide, I knew that this was my best moment...
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