Saturday, May 17, 2008

Hands that heal.....

Just something I thought of....

Anyone has the capability to heal. A friend, a lover, a family member. Just by being there for a shoulder to cry on, a ear to listen, or a mouth to tell you when things are gonna be ok.

Nurses are people remarkably cut out for the capability to heal. We train to be able to help people help themselves, or take over when they've lost that capability. We give medications to ease pain, we explain what is going to happen when the doctor is not around, we kick a little butt when someone doesn't want to do what they need to do, and we gently ease the transition from life to death.

some lines that I will ALWAYS remember are:
"Hands that heal, hands that love,
They lift you up, when you're not strong enough."

Always remember the simple power of the touch. A squeeze can be all that's needed to bring joy to the person who is locked inside their own head. A warm cloth on the face brings comfort to those who have been sitting in the hospital bed for days. A shave for a old man can bring him from "sick grandpa" to the "dapper dad" his family knows he is.

Never forget what we do. It's so much more than just a job.

3 comments:

Scott said...

Yes. Very well put. I love it when something simple like that makes my patients feel a whole lot better.

In fact, one of the reasons I felt my calling to be a nurse so strongly was the simple act of an ICU nurse giving me a bed bath at the start of my cancer saga. I cannot explain how good the rubbing felt. I was pretty doped out, but I think I told her that I loved her. LOL!

Scott said...

Hey, I just want you to know that you've been "promoted" on my medicine blogroll. It used to say (Nursing Student) after your name, but now it says (Nurse). You did it, man!

Amanda said...

You said it perfectly. I'm a nursing student who has dealt with chronic illness for most of my life, so as a patient, I can say that you are entirely correct in that a simple touch can mean the world to someone who is vulnerable, lonely, and afraid. Of course I have memories of the painful things, but I also have memories of a few rare nurses who took the time to hold my hand and tell me it was going to be okay. That meant more than any other intervention could ever mean. And of course, as a nurse, I agree with you completely - this is more than a job. It's a passion, a calling, a lifestyle. It's so important that we see both sides and not only focus on the abilities of our science and resources, but also on the power of a touch, a smile, or a simple gesture that simply says "I'm here for you. It's going to be okay."