Sticks and Stones

I have been called lots of different things – type A, uptight, relentless, neurotic…and some nicer names – thoughtful, caring, kind. Until last week, child of the devil was never on this list.

Rest assured, I wasn’t at home – I was at work. I arrived a few minutes early and was organizing myself before receiving report from the outgoing nurse. I heard my patient before I saw her. She was yelling from her room – asking for people that I figured weren’t there. I sensed she was going to be my patient even before I checked the room number. I just had a hunch that my number was up.

In report I learned that this wasn’t her typical behavior. She appeared to be having a medication reaction – complete with hallucinations, agitation and just general mean behavior. Awesome. Always up for a challenge, I was hopeful that the night would go smoothly.

It didn’t. When I returned to her room after receiving report, she was praying/chanting. I tried to be quiet and careful. When I told her it was time for her meds, she opened her eyes and cursed me. Ummm…not going so well. She told me she didn’t need her meds because God was going to save her. She then told me that while He was going to heal and save her, I was going to hell for my unbelieving ways. Oh, okay. I figured I could clear this up. I leaned down to her level and told her that actually I am a believer. I do have faith in God. We are going to be okay, you and I. We have something in common. Nope. She wasn’t buying it. She looked at me with her penetrating eyes, called me a liar and then told me I was a child of the devil. So much for reason. I wanted to explain that my bloodshot eyes were just from lack of sleep but she wasn’t having any of it. She then rebuked me and yelled at me to get out of her room. Hmmm….that didn’t really go as planned.

I had her a few more nights after our first encounter. She did clear up from the medication so the intensity of her behavior and her hallucinations subsided. I did learn that even on her best day, she wasn’t that nice. I wasn’t called names that were quite as hurtful as that first night but I do believe she told me that she was going to die because I was so mean. Really? Because I was just thinking the same thing about her.

I need thicker skin. I love my job. I really do. It is interesting, exciting and I am learning a ton. Sometimes though I worry that I just don’t have thick enough skin. Crazy words from a lady not in her right mind shouldn’t bother me…but they do. Sometimes I feel like I don’t just have thin skin but maybe it is translucent. Is that possible? I think about words spoken to me days later. I have trouble shaking them. Maybe I should work in preoperative nursing. You spend very little time with the patients while they are conscious. You help get them ready for surgery and then they have their happy juice (not a technical term) and send them on their way. Something to consider.

This experience does remind me to be careful with my words. Sometimes I find myself saying things at home without thinking first. Okay, I do this a lot. One of my kids brought home several pages of graded homework the other day. The majority of it was really good – stars, stickers and A’s. There was one minor test that wasn’t so great. That’s what I pointed out. Afterwards, I thought about it. Bad move. She is 8. A poor grade on one reading comprehension test isn’t going to keep her out of 4^th grade. As a matter of fact, it was probably just a bad day or something else was going on. I have to stop and think before I speak because it’s just good practice AND at least one of my kids seems to have inherited my translucent skin. 

Is it wrong to hope that my patient has moved on by the time I go back to work? The one thing I will take away from the time we spent together - Words are powerful. Use them wisely.