With the Old Breed...
I love my patients. I honestly do. Talking to them about their life while getting them up and moving is just so wonderful. I enjoy the conversations almost as much as the outcomes that my patients have. I hate to pick favorites, but one particular gentleman that I recently had the privilege to work with quickly earned my favor.
We'll call him Mr. Awesome (because he truly was). The first day I saw Mr. Awesome he was very wild and almost combative. He was in his late 80's and had kinda gone down hill in the past few weeks. He wasn't really 'with it' either. Needless to say, he was not a favorite of the hospital staff, and I didn't know what to make of him just yet, either.
That week passed, and not much changed. Sometimes he would open his eyes, but most of the time he just grimaced as I moved him through passive range. Even though I couldn't tell if he was able to comprehend, I'd talk to him all the same. Most of you know that I'm a bit of a talker, so it was no problem holding a conversation by myself. There were times when his sweet wife of 64 years was present, and she would give me tidbits of their history.
They had met in Fayetteville where he played football for the Arkansas Razorbacks. She was a beautician that worked on Dickson street. They met by chance and the rest was history. You could tell her earnest love for him. She was there most everyday. She was quite amazing herself - sharp as a wit and still driving around at almost age 90.
One day I came in and she wasn't there. So, I again talked to Mr. Awesome like he could talk back. I was telling him how his sweet wife had told me about his football days. My heart lit up when he got the biggest grin on his face. It spread from ear to ear. I was so excited. He was still there! He wasn't just lying in a stupor. He was listening! So, I continued to talk to him. I asked where his wifey was today, and he answered, "She couldn't make it." He spoke to me. Wow! I literally couldn't believe it. I was so disappointed because it was Friday. I wouldn't have another opportunity to work with him until Monday, but I guess I would have to wait.
The work week rolled back around, and I went to work excited. I finally got to see my favorite patient that afternoon, and boy what a difference a weekend made. He was alert, eyes open, and talking. Now, keep in mind that this man had not been up in more than 2 weeks. That's hard on any person, but especially hard on an older individual. I didn't know what all he would be able to do, but at least he could communicate that to me now.
I asked him if he remembered me, and he smiled and said gratefully, "Of course. You talked to me." That broke my heart. I know that sometimes in the health profession we all become calloused and hard. But, it doesn't change the fact that we are treating people first, not just another patient. I invested in him as a person, and he was thankful for that. On one of my previous rotations a sweet lady was explaining to me how she served as a Nurse during WWII. She told me of all her accomplishments, but then followed it up with this, "None of that really matters now. The things I accomplished when I was younger doesn't matter when you're lying in a hospital bed. I'm just another old person to take care of now." That hurt my heart, and I hope to never become so scabbed over that I forget about the person behind the patient.
So, back to Mr. Awesome. I explained to him that I'd like to sit him up on the edge of the bed to see how well his sitting balance was. He was agreeable to do so, but complained that his left knee was killing him. I was curious as to why, and he told me that it's always bothered him. He said, "It's hurt ever since I was a young man when a jack-ass threw me off his back." Nevertheless, he toughed through the pain and sat up on the side of the bed without much assistance. He held his balance by himself. I was astonished. I just knew that I'd have to help him, but no. He even did his lower extremity exercises while sitting there. To prove to you that I didn't help him, let me tell you his size. The man was 6'3'' and all of 220. He was surprisingly solid for an older gentleman. I couldn't have held him up for very long even if I wanted to.
We talked, and I eagerly asked him about his college days and what all he had done in his life. He went on to tell me that he was a defensive end for the Razorbacks. How cool is that? Then he told me that he had served in WWII. I was pumped - I'm kind of a closet history buff, so this thrilled me. I even did my senior research paper on various WWII war tactics used in the Pacific by the Japanese such as kamikazes and kaitens. So, I listened to all that he would tell me. He told me about when he was stationed at Pearl Harbor for nine months, and he told me of how he was a Weatherman. His story was so very interesting, but one therapy session only lasts so long. I was disappointed to have to leave, but excited to see him on the next day. After all, I had all week left to visit with him!
He had done SO well on Monday that I was prepared to have him stand at the walker the next day. I came out of the room very encouraged, and told my Clinical Instructor (CI) all about it. He couldn't believe what I was telling him. We were both pretty excited about the progress Mr. Awesome had made.
The next day was extremely busy. We had to switch over to wound care, and it made it difficult for us to see all of our patients. Mr. Awesome was one that we passed on to another therapist. Although I was very disappointed, I still looked forward to seeing him the following day.
I arrived the next day chipper as usual, and greeted my CI with a smile. But, his face wasn't so cheery. I could tell he didn't want to tell me something, but he finally came out with it. He broke the news to me that my favorite patient had passed away early that morning. He told me that after my last treatment with Mr. Awesome that he had an eerie feeling. He explained that in his experience it's common to see older people get a burst of energy right before they pass away. I fought back the tears because I didn't want to cry in front of my CI. I excused myself for a moment and went to the bathroom. I honestly cared deeply for that man. He was of an "old breed." He grew up in a time where courage and integrity weren't attributes that were sought after - they were the norm. He and so many other men and women suffered horrendous trails so that we could live as we do today.
One of my best friends, Jay, is quite the history buff as well except he actually knows A LOT more about it than I do. I mean, he gets WWII quarterlies and such :) He bought me a book for my birthday entitled "With the Old Breed." This book so adequately describes the valiant efforts of our servicemen, and tells so many stories - some courageous, some saddening, and some unthinkable. We owe a great deal of gratitude to those willing to serve our country. I highly recommend it.
We'll call him Mr. Awesome (because he truly was). The first day I saw Mr. Awesome he was very wild and almost combative. He was in his late 80's and had kinda gone down hill in the past few weeks. He wasn't really 'with it' either. Needless to say, he was not a favorite of the hospital staff, and I didn't know what to make of him just yet, either.
That week passed, and not much changed. Sometimes he would open his eyes, but most of the time he just grimaced as I moved him through passive range. Even though I couldn't tell if he was able to comprehend, I'd talk to him all the same. Most of you know that I'm a bit of a talker, so it was no problem holding a conversation by myself. There were times when his sweet wife of 64 years was present, and she would give me tidbits of their history.
They had met in Fayetteville where he played football for the Arkansas Razorbacks. She was a beautician that worked on Dickson street. They met by chance and the rest was history. You could tell her earnest love for him. She was there most everyday. She was quite amazing herself - sharp as a wit and still driving around at almost age 90.
One day I came in and she wasn't there. So, I again talked to Mr. Awesome like he could talk back. I was telling him how his sweet wife had told me about his football days. My heart lit up when he got the biggest grin on his face. It spread from ear to ear. I was so excited. He was still there! He wasn't just lying in a stupor. He was listening! So, I continued to talk to him. I asked where his wifey was today, and he answered, "She couldn't make it." He spoke to me. Wow! I literally couldn't believe it. I was so disappointed because it was Friday. I wouldn't have another opportunity to work with him until Monday, but I guess I would have to wait.
The work week rolled back around, and I went to work excited. I finally got to see my favorite patient that afternoon, and boy what a difference a weekend made. He was alert, eyes open, and talking. Now, keep in mind that this man had not been up in more than 2 weeks. That's hard on any person, but especially hard on an older individual. I didn't know what all he would be able to do, but at least he could communicate that to me now.
I asked him if he remembered me, and he smiled and said gratefully, "Of course. You talked to me." That broke my heart. I know that sometimes in the health profession we all become calloused and hard. But, it doesn't change the fact that we are treating people first, not just another patient. I invested in him as a person, and he was thankful for that. On one of my previous rotations a sweet lady was explaining to me how she served as a Nurse during WWII. She told me of all her accomplishments, but then followed it up with this, "None of that really matters now. The things I accomplished when I was younger doesn't matter when you're lying in a hospital bed. I'm just another old person to take care of now." That hurt my heart, and I hope to never become so scabbed over that I forget about the person behind the patient.
So, back to Mr. Awesome. I explained to him that I'd like to sit him up on the edge of the bed to see how well his sitting balance was. He was agreeable to do so, but complained that his left knee was killing him. I was curious as to why, and he told me that it's always bothered him. He said, "It's hurt ever since I was a young man when a jack-ass threw me off his back." Nevertheless, he toughed through the pain and sat up on the side of the bed without much assistance. He held his balance by himself. I was astonished. I just knew that I'd have to help him, but no. He even did his lower extremity exercises while sitting there. To prove to you that I didn't help him, let me tell you his size. The man was 6'3'' and all of 220. He was surprisingly solid for an older gentleman. I couldn't have held him up for very long even if I wanted to.
We talked, and I eagerly asked him about his college days and what all he had done in his life. He went on to tell me that he was a defensive end for the Razorbacks. How cool is that? Then he told me that he had served in WWII. I was pumped - I'm kind of a closet history buff, so this thrilled me. I even did my senior research paper on various WWII war tactics used in the Pacific by the Japanese such as kamikazes and kaitens. So, I listened to all that he would tell me. He told me about when he was stationed at Pearl Harbor for nine months, and he told me of how he was a Weatherman. His story was so very interesting, but one therapy session only lasts so long. I was disappointed to have to leave, but excited to see him on the next day. After all, I had all week left to visit with him!
He had done SO well on Monday that I was prepared to have him stand at the walker the next day. I came out of the room very encouraged, and told my Clinical Instructor (CI) all about it. He couldn't believe what I was telling him. We were both pretty excited about the progress Mr. Awesome had made.
The next day was extremely busy. We had to switch over to wound care, and it made it difficult for us to see all of our patients. Mr. Awesome was one that we passed on to another therapist. Although I was very disappointed, I still looked forward to seeing him the following day.
I arrived the next day chipper as usual, and greeted my CI with a smile. But, his face wasn't so cheery. I could tell he didn't want to tell me something, but he finally came out with it. He broke the news to me that my favorite patient had passed away early that morning. He told me that after my last treatment with Mr. Awesome that he had an eerie feeling. He explained that in his experience it's common to see older people get a burst of energy right before they pass away. I fought back the tears because I didn't want to cry in front of my CI. I excused myself for a moment and went to the bathroom. I honestly cared deeply for that man. He was of an "old breed." He grew up in a time where courage and integrity weren't attributes that were sought after - they were the norm. He and so many other men and women suffered horrendous trails so that we could live as we do today.
One of my best friends, Jay, is quite the history buff as well except he actually knows A LOT more about it than I do. I mean, he gets WWII quarterlies and such :) He bought me a book for my birthday entitled "With the Old Breed." This book so adequately describes the valiant efforts of our servicemen, and tells so many stories - some courageous, some saddening, and some unthinkable. We owe a great deal of gratitude to those willing to serve our country. I highly recommend it.
I say all this to help us remember that everyone has a story, and everyone wants to tell it. Being a great listener is a skill that I have been diligently working on and constantly reaping the benefits from. There is a world of knowledge out there if we'll just listen.
PAIGENERYYYY! Go listen to James Otto's new song..."Soldiers and Jesus"...You will LOVE. IT.
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