February 23, 2012
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on needing help…
He asks often about my duties at work, wanting details of the unusual. For him, the usual is unusual, and he’ll sit close and hang on every word. When I ask why he’s interested he tells me that someday he wants to write a book about the specialty I work in. It’s a mysterious world to outsiders, and he finds it fascinating. I thought he was full of shit at first. He spends so much time with the fair weathers that I wonder about his integrity sometimes. Then he hangs on every word, asks the right questions, and I wonder if he’s sincere.
He admits one day that he’s amazed by my work, “You have seen every part of the human body from the inside. What is that like?”
Sometimes I get technical in my explanations, which throws him off. I have to simplify it. My working knowledge of anatomy and physiology, of surgery itself, is endlessly intriguing to him.
To me, it is all in a day’s work. I don’t think about four years of college with a nearly perfect GPA. I don’t think about my decades long membership in the international honor society of nursing, Sigma Theta Tau. I don’t think about the times I take my newbie colleagues aside and explain why we do certain things. They tell people that I’m brilliant; that I know my stuff. I’m not only holding my own, but winning support in the “main”. I know what I’m doing. I don’t need to toot my own horn. It comes back to me….
A CST introduced me to one of the trauma surgeons – “Have you met, _____? She just came to us from South County. She’s a great nurse, really knows her stuff.”
The “old guard” nurse to the supervisor: “I’m not worried about ____. She knows her stuff. She’s ready to be on her own.”
The “difficult” surgeon in the “undesired” service: “Why isn’t _____ in my room more often? She’s knows what she’s doing.”
Tonight I get the panicked phone call. He wants me to tell him to rest and ice it. I tell him what it will likely be, what he may expect, what the diagnosis will likely be.
I know I’m right. He bargains. I shake my head. This time he needs to go to the doctor. I know he’s in terrible pain. He’s opting to stay at work. Then he surprises me….He asks if I’ll come over tomorrow night. I’ll go over, but it will be a gentle night.
