Lessons in Love

I want to write this - I want to write so bad, but it's one of those times when I sit here just staring at the blank screen trying to put to words the workings in my heart.

Each day, each week I am learning more about what it means to do what I want to do - nursing, specifically pediatrics. I loved OB nursing, but I feel at home in peds nursing. I am more comfortable and confident than ever before in a nursing field. This week I had a unique patient whose story I can't share do to HIPAA, but we were reading his history and he has spent most of his life in the hospital - as many of these kids on my unit do {hematology (blood) and oncology (cancer)}. So there was a lot to his case, and there were situations where I kept asking myself what would I have done if I were the nurse in that situation... and I didn't come up with an answer. I did; however, catch myself with very judgmental thoughts only for us to have a guest speaker tell us her own story. It opened my eyes to a world unknown to me. A world where girls are raped as young as 5 years old and given recreational drugs at 7. Who lived on the streets, who worked as prostitute - a girl born into the drug culture. And this woman sat before us as an open book. She laid out her life's story before us. She's been clean/sober for 10 years now. And as she told us her story she said the one thing she wanted us to take away with us is unconditional love. She said the best thing we can do for our patients is to love them unconditionally. We don't know their story. I sat and listened with tears in my eyes. This woman before me who was so broken - who was vulnerable with us - and her vulnerability changed my life. I felt guilty, for judging my patients family this week. I felt gratitude for the multitude of blessings I have received. And my heart broken for the multitude of people in this world who have stories similar to hers.

Since this summer I have learned more and more what it means to love unconditionally. As a
camp counselor for middle school girls I had to learn how to love them despite what I may feeling. I didn't feel like loving them - I physically didn't feel good, how was I supposed to love these girls? And our love languages, well... they didn't quite match up. It was a battle. I had to choose to love them. For once I actually experienced love being a choice. The Lord placed these children of his in my care, and I had to choose to care for them, choose to love them.

I have had to learn how to love myself unconditionally. I can't just love myself if I meet certain requirements (weight, appearance, level of success, amount of money, work, service, etc). I have had to learn to surrender to the Lord in a new way, and found new freedom in that. I have learned that I need to choose to accept the mercy the Lord offers me each moment.

Lastly, I have learned the importance of sharing the love of Christ with my patients - not by preaching with words, but with the way I care for them, the way I talk to them, the attention I give them. My little guy this week lifted my heart and brought me joy - we played peek-a-boo and other ridiculous games that you only do with children. I loved on him and he soaked up every minute of it.
He needed a little TLC, but the thing is - every patient in the hospital needs a little TLC.. you're not on this earth for you... you're not here for you. You are here for something so much more, in a world that is so much larger than yourself - but that is something most overlooked in this world. So I want to leave you with this message a friend sent me this week that reminded me of the power of the work I will one do, of the work the Lord is preparing me to do for all my life. It is long, but I really encourage you to read it all the way through.


Yesterday I overheard a nursing student snark, "yeah, this is why I'm in nursing school - so I can pass trays." And if I hadn't been up to my eyeballs in other things to do for my patients, I would have stopped and said: You've already missed the point entirely. I'm not sure why you DO think you're here. If you hope to be a good nurse (or coworker, or person with a heart), you're going to spend the majority of your working life doing things you SO mistakenly think are beneath you. You are going to pass trays with a smile - excitement even, when your patient finally gets to try clear liquids. You will even open the milk and butter the toast and cut the meat. You will feed full-grown adults from those trays, bite by tedious, hard-to-swallow bite. You will, at times, get your own vital signs or glucoscans, empty Foley bags and bedside commodes without thinking twice. You will reposition the same person, move the same three pillows, 27 times in one shift because they can't get comfortable. You will not only help bathe patients, but wash and dry between the toes they can't reach. Lotion and apply deodorant. Scratch backs. Nystatin powder skin folds. Comb hair. Carefully brush teeth and dentures. Shave an old man's wrinkled face. Because these things make them feel more human again. You will NOT delegate every "code brown," and you will handle them with a mix of grace and humor so as not to humiliate someone who already feels quite small. You will change ostomy appliances and redress infected and necrotic wounds and smell smells that stay with you, and you will work hard not to show how disgusted you may feel because you will remember that this person can't walk away from what you have only to face for a few moments. You will fetch ice and tissues and an extra blanket and hunt down an applesauce when you know you don't have time to. You will listen sincerely to your patient vent when you know you don't have time to. You will hug a family member, hear them out, encourage them, bring them coffee the way they like it, answer what you may feel are "stupid" questions - twice even - when you don't have time to. You won't always eat when you're hungry or pee when you need to because there's usually something more important to do. You'll be aggravated by Q2 narcotic pushes, but keenly aware that the person who requires them is far more put upon. You will navigate unbelievably messy family dramas, and you will be griped at for things you have no control over, and be talked down to, and you will remain calm and respectful (even though you'll surely say what you really felt to your coworkers later), because you will try your best to stay mindful of the fact that while this is your everyday, it's this patient or family's high-stress situation, a potential tragedy in the making. Many days you won't feel like doing any of these things, but you'll shelve your own feelings and do them the best you can anyway. HIPAA will prevent you from telling friends, family, and Facebook what your work is really like. They'll guess based off what ridiculousness Gray's Anatomy and the like make of it, and you'll just have to haha at the poop and puke jokes. But your coworkers will get it, the way this work of nursing fills and breaks, fills and breaks your heart. Fellow nurses, doctors, NPs and PAs, PCAs, unit clerks, phlebotomists, respiratory therapists, physical and occupational therapists, speech therapists, transport, radiology, telemetry, pharmacy techs, lab, even dietary and housekeeping -- it's a team sport. And you're not set above the rest as captain. You will see you need each other, not just to complete the obvious tasks but to laugh and cry and laugh again about these things only someone else who's really been there can understand. You will see clearly that critical thinking about and careful delivery of medications are only part of the very necessary care you must provide. Blood gushing adrenaline-pumping code blue ribs breaking beneath your CPR hands moments are also part, but they're not what it's all about. The "little" stuff is rarely small. It's heavy and you can't carry it by yourself. So yes, little nursling, you are here to pass tray