It is 3 a.m. and my pager is blaring at me. I just laid down, not yet asleep. I get up and go to the phone and get the message from the answering service: "Yes ma'am, the call is from Betty Bebothersome. Says her catheter is leaking." I hang up and think nasty thoughts. "Dang you Betty, how many times this week have you called about your freakin' catheter!?" A chronic caller, Betty is known for her frequent leaking catheter calls. Often she is really calling because she has an anxiety disorder, and her catheter is the most convenient target for her anxiety. I call and try to get her to wait until morning as the catheter has ceased to leak according to her aide (she has 24 hour cargeivers), and there is plenty of urine both in the tube and the drainage bag. But Betty will have none of it.
I am angry when I get off the phone. In frustration, I grumble " I hate that woman!" My partner hears me in the other room and is a bit shocked by my response. I tell her to ignore me I am just angry right now, and I get ready to go to Betty's house.
In the car as I am driving to her house, I think to myself "where has your compassion gone? I think you need to get a different job if this is how you respond to your patients." Guilt and shame gnaw at my gut.
I enter the house to be greeted by a neatly dressed young woman with a scowl on her face. She says to me, in a whisper "another really long night". I reply "I imagine every night with Betty is a long, long night." "Yes" she says, rolling her eyes.
I walk up the steps into an imaculately clean, cutely decorated little house, and round the corner into Betty's room. (Keep in mind that I have only spoken to Betty on the phone, in the past. This is the first time I have met her. You know how it is to talk to someone on the phone over a long period of time? I tend to form a picture in my mind of the person. I didn't have a nice picture in my mind of poor Betty.) There in the hospital bed in a small, clean room is a tiny, frail looking little lady with the most anxious look on her face.
A tremendous surge of remorse and sadness wells up in my throat, as I introduce myself to Betty. I excuse myself to go wash my hands because tears are welling up in my eyes. My whole heart was melted by the sight of this tiny lady. My entire attitude has changed.
After taking a moment to compose myself, I return to Betty's room and begin to assess her catheter problem. I find that it is running just fine, but Betty wants it changed. As I go about the task, I converse quietly with her. She tells me that she was a nurse for 39 years. And she was a nurse in an era when nurses were not allowed to marry if they intended on making a career of it. Thus Betty is without family. And most of her friends have died as she is in her 80's.
I ask her about a small statue of a lighthouse on a shelf by her bed. She tells me that when she retired, she and another lady bought this house together. They used to vacation together, frequently during their years of working as nurses. On their last vacation together at the Grand Canyon, some 10 years ago, her friend died of a massive heart attack as they awaited an ambulance. "I have never gotten over it", she says softly.
As I leave, I think to myself "I have a whole new picture in my mind, now. I think my compassion has been restored."
8 comments:
We just never know, do we? It's so easy to forget that underneath their neediness, they are just like us. Whenever I have students who annoy the crap out of me (which, frankly, is pretty much every day), I always stop and remind myself that Greg or Julie or whoever is someone's child and how would I want someone to treat my own child? I suppose with the elderly you can wonder how you'd want someone to treat your mother or grandmother or elderly aunt. I hope that if my family is ever in need of care like this that they are lucky enough to have someone like you.
Thanks, Cheri. Thanks, Mrs.T. Yes, I guess I often think of my grandparents. And since I have no children, I think about how I would want to be treated as an elderly person, too.
Lovely. I sometimes go through the same with needy students -- a different level and degree of concern, but I find that once I hear their stories, my impatience with them generally flies away.
It's all about getting to know them. Thanks for sharing this.
this is a great post,thanks for it.
As a corrections officer I too became a bit jaded,until my Dad died and several men said to me sorry about your father.These Men were inmates.and not just any inmates they were assumed to be Mafia members.They showed more compassion that the staff of the center.
This is such a lovely and articulate reminder to take a breath and imagine what if. We will all be there one day. I like you.
I came over from Professor J's intrigued by your yoga comment.....this post of yours was so beautiful. Aren't those moments when our preconceptions are changed by something the most amazing gift? Thank you for writing about it. What a nice thing to ponder as I start my day.
This is a wonderful post. Sometimes we need those simple reminders from life.
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