I Don’t Want To Be A Patient

Life is an incredible thing, and every once in a while, life has a way of ruining everything.

Today my patient is young, which usually makes things more complicated. Young people are full of potential, and we imagine our own youth and how different we would have done things if only we would have known. Life has its seasons, and that first spring when we first planted the seeds of who we were going to be seem to have the deepest roots. It takes many years of committed sowing to cultivate a field of good intentions and grand ideas into a harvest of meaning and success. We only know this looking back, but in those early years when we had all the potential and nothing to fear seems to be a magical time.

Today my patient is a young person who due to a car accident will not be participating in life for a while. The crisis of not walking is only out shadowed by the failed expectations of losing the life she was building. She is in school, working hard on the prerequisite classes to apply to the nursing program. Though I have no doubt that she will finish and become an excellent nurse, her assessment of her situation struck me, and resembles a pervasive bias in my industry. With tears in her eyes, she turned to me and said, “ I don’t want to be a patient. I want to be a nurse.”

Many jobs in the service industry practice in a power dynamic where those being served are higher up than the servant. A waiter would rather sit and eat then carry food when they are hungry. The bank teller would rather deposit money into their own account., The pilot would rather be on vacation and excitedly talking with friends and planing adventures than being responsible for the 100+ lives in his care. Those who are served have an opportunity, capacity, or influence we wish we had as we serve them in our jobs. Medicine is different from this kind of work. There is never a day when I bring morphine to my patient and think, “I wish I could have morphine.” The same for the doctor bringing a diagnosis of cancer, or the phlebotomist bringing their sharp needles. Even the cafeteria worker in the hospital never looks to the patrons mourning a loss and struggling to keep tears back thinks, “I wish I was in your shoes.”

Standing by the bed is better than being in the bed. This opens the door to turn our back on the patient. We have no reason to look at them, except to look down at them, for the purpose of our job. We conduct our exam, document our findings, and carry on. But if it is true that we are in the preferred seat, then we have the incredible opportunity to exercise that authority and power to make a genuine difference. Case in point for my little nurse-to-be.

She is thirsty, but can’t walk or move to get water herself. I have a ton of “important” things to do that directly effect my employment (like charting), or my reputation (like a complete exam), or my sanity (like eating and using the bathroom). The likely consequence of giving her ice chips will be her throwing up, which will result in more work and more charting. But, in this case, a terrified young person who, as far as they know, just lost everything and their whole world is over, needs to know that they are not alone. She needs to know that this scary place has a way out, and I need her to calm down so she doesn’t further damage her fracture. So I take 15 minutes, we talk. I give her an ice chip, she takes her time and a breath. I tell her that nursing school is hard to get into and they are looking for special people. I tell her that her experience here will probably be the story that gets her into nursing school. She will understand what it is to be a patient, and from that place of understanding be driven to become the best nurse she can be. A change in perspective, and ice chip, a delayed break, and one calm patient.

No one wants to be a patient. So if you have the chance to stand at the side of the bed, be fully present whenever possible. This is what I mean when I say, “The Blunt Side Always Stings”. To watch a patient suffer leaves it's mark on my heart, and the scar that forms to protect me can desensitize me to what my patient really needs. This is what it is to be a Medical Provider. To be strong and aware, to be hard and sensitive, to stand amidst suffering and not lose your humanity.