Death, Be Not Proud

For reasons of bed availability and timing (probably), my hospital ward has seen many deaths recently [with the clarification that these are expected deaths, not medical disasters]. I handle them much differently than I did 6 years ago, in that they don't depress me as much, but by no means does that imply I do not think of them. I think of every one. I think back to decide if I made a difference. Mostly, the difference I make is very very small. I do not, after all, have power over death. I usually do not have great words of wisdom or comfort for these patients and their families. And I suppose the touch of my cold hands is not that comforting either.
But I remember them.

I remember the deaf and confused patient, who smiled when I tried to speed-learn medical terms in sign language, cheating a bit by posting pictures of the signs in her room. Of course we have translators, and (thankfully) video interpreters, but for me, that disengages me from my patient, and is often too cumbersome for common day-to-day interactions such as "Hello." Since she had the additional complication of being confused, mutual understanding was often hit-or-miss. But we tried.

I remember the young girl (early 20s) from the Dominican Republic, and talked with her and her mother about my college internship there. I tried to make sure she felt human just by helping her get cleaned up and talking about what we crave when on our periods. Before I went home that shift, I asked the night nurse to try to transfer her to a bigger room, to better accommodate the many family members that visited her. She died more fully surrounded by her family.

I remember the early-middle-aged woman who wanted to use the actual bathroom instead of a bedpan, and we compromised on the bedside commode. Toileting, you know, makes a difference. It was either that act or the fact that I got her an air-mattress bed that prompted her mother to call me an "angel." I remember the guilt I felt when I asked to be assigned somewhere else on my next work shift; not because of her [my badge wasn't working in that section of the hospital, and I found that dealing with locked doors and dying patients was too overwhelming], but I still knew it would disappoint her family. I almost didn't even visit her that next shift, because of my guilt [and if I hadn't visited, that would have worsened my guilt, but I'm not actually an angel with perfect reasoning and understanding; I am totally human.] but I ran into her sister in the hallway and managed to let humanity win over Fear.

I remember the late-middle-aged woman whose family quietly accepted her prognosis. I remember transferring her to the palliative unit and pointing out the various comforts that created a calmer, more peaceful environment in which to die.

I remember the young man who was so miserable as his body failed that I gave a stern mini-lecture to his doctor who somehow believed all was well. Oh, yes, I felt inadequate, and under-educated and under-experienced, but I found a Fire in my belly that over-ruled hierarchy.

I don't know that all nurses are religious, but it does seem that most nurses see death differently. Not something to glorify, but certainly not something to always fear.

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou’art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy’or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. ~John Donne Nurses are neither Angels of Death nor Angels of Life. We are Angels of Human. And Humans all meet Death. But Death is not the end of Humanity. Love keeps going. And Death doesn't win.