Music From Days Gone By

I have always lived hopelessly behind the times; I have always felt out of touch with the times that I live and function in every day. My phone for instance. It’s one of my husband’s cast-off phones. It’s just a phone; I only use it to make phone calls. Of course it is also a camera, but I already HAVE a camera; I don’t need my phone to be a camera too. I just need it to be a phone.

My previous phone was Summer’s cast-off phone, and although I liked it I found it way too fancy for me. I mean, it had the internet for heaven’s sake. I don’t need my phone to be a computer; I have a computer. I just need it to be a phone, so I tried to ignore the fact that my phone was also a computer. Unfortunately the phone company didn’t see it that way and they insisted on charging me an extra $30 a month for the internet that I never used.

Take my professional life. I have been a nurse for almost forty years and I DON’T HAVE A RESUME`. Never had one. All my previous jobs and years of experience are tucked away safely inside my head but never organized into a written resume`. And now my daughter tells me that nurses don’t even have resumes` anymore, they have portfolios.

PORTFOLIOS?? What is this, America’s Next Top Model Nurse?  Portfolios? Really?

"Yes mom," she tells me. "We have portfolios." Then she tells me that included in the portfolio is something called an exemplar. She had to explain to me what that was. Webster says the word itself means "an ideal model" or "a typical or standard specimen." Summer tells me that she was required to take a particular patient situation and describe it, then tell what she learned from it. That piece of writing is called a nursing exemplar and it becomes part of her portfolio. She recently shared her exemplar with me, and if you would permit, I would like to share it here with you.

"It was a familiar setting: nurses’ station, stacks of charts, papers scattered over the countertops. Coffee mugs littered the area, and nurses chattered while giving change-of-shift report. Standing off to the side, I was planning my day when I overheard another nurse giving report on a patient that had been hospitalized for a few days.

"58 year old female, admitted from the ER with abdominal pain, nausea and vomiting. Her CT shows a possible small bowel obstruction. No bowel function for going on six days. NG tube to low intermittent suction. NPO except ice chips. Ambulates. Voids. Finger stick glucose checks every six hours. Peripheral IV access. Family at bedside. Nice lady; I think she’s a nurse too. Gave her morphine last about an hour ago."

Though she was not technically my patient, I found myself feeling a sense of obligation to make sure that she received nothing less than excellent care. I was drawn to her bedside. Gently waking her from her fitful sleep, I began a morning assessment. I talked softly to her while placing my stethoscope on her tender abdomen. "Minimal bowel sounds," I thought to myself. I looked at her IV site, careful not to wake her sleeping husband in the recliner an arm’s length from her side rail.

"Are you ready to get cleaned up?" I asked.

"That sounds great. I’ve been sweaty all night, and I have an awful taste in my mouth," she answered.

I clamped her NG tube and was helping her out of bed when her assigned nurse walked in. Seeing that I was already beginning her morning care, her nurse agreed to come back later. I helped this sweet patient into the shower, washing her hair and her back, but encouraging her to do all that she could for herself. After helping her dry off, dress in pajamas, and brush her teeth, I put non-slip socks on her and helped her walk two laps in the hallway. Entrusting her to our care, her husband left to return to his job, promising he would come back as soon as he got off work.

I spent my day in and out of her room, making sure that each of her needs was met. I just couldn’t get this one patient off of my mind. I found myself gulping my coffee during my break, just to get back upstairs to her. I thought about her also being a nurse, and as a relatively new nurse myself, I wondered if she was silently noting my skill level or judging my nursing abilities.

I went back upstairs to her room that evening, just before her husband was scheduled to return from his day at work. Gently helping her from the recliner back to the bed, I tucked her in and silently prayed that she could tell that I had done my very best for her that day.

"You’re a wonderful nurse," she said. "I can tell you really love what you do. Your patients are very blessed to be under your care."

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ium”>Tears stung my eyes as I snuggled next to my sweet patient on the edge of the hard hospital mattress. "Thank you, Mommy," I replied. "You’ve shown me how to be a nurse with my heart as well as my hands. I love you."