How Nurses Not Only Save Lives, but provide mental stability
This post is not meant to diagnose, treat, or save you from mental illness; if you or someone you love is in danger, please get help. You can text HOME to 741741 to be connected with a crisis counselor. I personally have. You can also call or text 988 for suicide and crisis help.
http://www.cdc.gov/suicide/facts
This post speaks directly from my heart, as I have known many nurses most of my life. However, until you are hospitalized and witness their devotion, dedication and hard work you don’t really know them. That starts to sound generic to them I am sure, but being there when a human being is at the worst of their worst, and still having the passion to show them dignity, affirmation and compassion is outstanding. I have heard a lot of people complain about nursing staff, even going so far as to yell at them for not doing their jobs; I have never seen this issue, even in my darkest of hours. I have been admitted for both intense medical and psychiatric care; the nurses have saved my life and my soul.
I am in no way taking away from your personal experience, everyone goes through the trauma of the medical field differently. Some witness it for themselves, other for family members, and finally for the medical staff themselves. This post is from me to the nurses and medical staff in my life personally and medically: You are everything, you saved my life. When I was in my darkest hour and in the most emotional and physical pain of my life, it was you that saved me. It was you that brought my spirit back to life. When I was locked away from everyone and everything I have ever known and loved, it was you nurses who brought me back to reality and made me whole again. I know you are tired, I know you are sore, and I am sure some of your patients have taken your patience away today. But you are so fast, there in a flash at my side. You caught me when I physically fell to my hands and knees in pain, writhing, vomiting, my heart accelerating to scary levels. You pulled my hair back and told me I would be okay, that you would care for me. You sent in your medical PCT’s to check on me and provide for me when you couldn’t, your hands full of medications and vitals; not to mention your own friends and family, needing you back home. Your multitasking abilities amaze me, before I knew I needed you, you came running in the middle of the night to change the sheets in seconds and have me back in bed, warm and dry. The stories you shared with me kept me from slipping away, telling me about your own life as soon as you saw how much pain I was in. You were the saving grace I needed, when my own friends and family were grasping at straws to help me. They were worried about me, I am sure they called you while you were charting for other patients at the same time. You have so many things to do, I am amazed by you.
How are you so strong? How can you make sure I have what I need before I know? I know it’s not just science and medication, it has to be more than that. “Care” doesn’t explain it; to be frank I could look up a word but I am here typing now and nothing comes to mind except trust. You trust in your abilities and we trust in you, so much, or at least I do. I knew somehow that you would have my back when the doctors had no solutions for me, except to keep trying different tests and medications. You were there with me to go over trends, test results, shift changes, diet restrictions, mental status, pain levels, sleep tracking, call buttons, phone calls, hygiene, and referrals to different avenues of care for myself. You helped me when my children visited, my devoted husband was without solutions, my friends came and went, and my sanity began to slowly slip into oblivion. It wasn’t that you cared for me when no one else did, although I can imagine that is also sometimes the case for you too, the truth is that you cared in a different way. I asked you what your favorite color was to shift my focus away from the pain, the trauma. When I couldn’t read, you read things to me and spoke to me in a way I could understand. You remembered me, recognized me, and helped advocate for me when I was in too much pain to do it for myself. My husband had to work, my children had to sleep, my friends and family were busy and I had to heal, I just couldn’t do it all alone. It was you who came through for me, even staying after your shift was over sometimes to check on me and get me sleep. No matter how tired you were, how many shifts you pulled, or how many doctors, pharmacists, specialists you had to speak with. You did it all, for the most part on your own. In the middle of the night, or in the Dawn of the morning, you show(ed) up for me. Thank you. Thank you for bringing me back, for grounding me in your kind words and soft voices, when my head was pounding so hard I felt like blood was rushing out of my ears; when I wanted to give in and give up. My knees hurt from vomiting up the medication they gave me, my back from the bed and my heart and soul from the loneliness. NO matter what, every 12 hours you were there, I know it is your job, but it meant so much more to me than that. I didn’t care what your hair or skin looked like, what accent you carried, if you hadn’t had time to get your nails done or your of the build you carried. I was so relived, because I knew through you that there was an outside world waiting for me, that I wouldn’t be left to die in that room; alone. Thank you. I am whole again because of you.
-A Manic Monday
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