Wrestling with the career
I find myself a bit torn these days with my choice of specialty, that being critical care. You're taught in nursing school that a certain amount of empathy is a requirement of the job. Otherwise you're nothing more than Louise Fletcher in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. My problem, I'm finding, is that I have an over-abundance.
Not with every patient, mind you. Those that die alone, I'm fine with. A tear maybe, maybe not. It's those occasions when the family chooses to withdraw life support from their loved one and they all gather round while I turn off the alarms, turn on the Morphine, Midazolam or whatever we're using that day to keep dying patients comfy. Invariably some are crying actively, possibly bordering on wailing. Perhaps they're brushing their loved one's cheek or forehead as they tell them they love them. And that's it. I'm officially a mess. More than once I have to excuse myself, wander down the hall to a window to compose myself, then return to the scene. This doesn't strike me as professional behaviour. I don't notice this happening to co-workers. Maybe I haven't been doing it long enough.
Again, if the patient dies alone, I tend to be very calm and collected. And when it's time to prepare the body to head to the morgue, I always do it alone. Almost every other co-worker tends to ask someone else to do it with them. Doesn't faze me in the least to be alone with the body. I take pride in the fact I'm giving them their last bath, taking a little extra time to treat them well one last time. It's a bit sacred for me, truth be told.
But the tears. I bring them home with me. That or anger and frustration. Not fun for those around me outside of work. Clearly I don't have the right grasp of my job. Should I have chosen another specialty? Something where no one ever dies and there's no chance to develop any attachment to the patient? Dialysis? Methadone dispensing? Weight-loss clinic? PACU? It doesn't feel at the moment that a career change is the answer. However, obviously I need to get the empathy under control...
Not with every patient, mind you. Those that die alone, I'm fine with. A tear maybe, maybe not. It's those occasions when the family chooses to withdraw life support from their loved one and they all gather round while I turn off the alarms, turn on the Morphine, Midazolam or whatever we're using that day to keep dying patients comfy. Invariably some are crying actively, possibly bordering on wailing. Perhaps they're brushing their loved one's cheek or forehead as they tell them they love them. And that's it. I'm officially a mess. More than once I have to excuse myself, wander down the hall to a window to compose myself, then return to the scene. This doesn't strike me as professional behaviour. I don't notice this happening to co-workers. Maybe I haven't been doing it long enough.
Again, if the patient dies alone, I tend to be very calm and collected. And when it's time to prepare the body to head to the morgue, I always do it alone. Almost every other co-worker tends to ask someone else to do it with them. Doesn't faze me in the least to be alone with the body. I take pride in the fact I'm giving them their last bath, taking a little extra time to treat them well one last time. It's a bit sacred for me, truth be told.
But the tears. I bring them home with me. That or anger and frustration. Not fun for those around me outside of work. Clearly I don't have the right grasp of my job. Should I have chosen another specialty? Something where no one ever dies and there's no chance to develop any attachment to the patient? Dialysis? Methadone dispensing? Weight-loss clinic? PACU? It doesn't feel at the moment that a career change is the answer. However, obviously I need to get the empathy under control...
