empathy

I used to think it was all about trying to imagine what it's like....trying to fathom how it would feel if it was me...trying to walk in their shoes.

But I'm starting to realize that it isn't...and I can't...and I don't.

Suffering and fear bring inner chaos. You see it in the eyes, and if you look closely, the hands.
Some days are all about finding the answers and tweaking the meds and trying all your tricks to reign in their chaos.
Sometimes there are no tricks left and 'being there' is all you can do.

Empathy is effectively communicating to another human being,
by words or touch or actions,
that their pain is real...and it counts...and it matters.

At least that's what i think it is today.

evolution

me: "Hey, I'm here to see the Westins - is this a good time?"
colleague and friend: "Yea, I guess, but they're already pissed at you."
me: "What?! Why? I've never even met them!"
colleague and friend: "They've been waiting 2 hours for you. I told them you'd be here at 9."
me: "Why? I told you I couldn't be here until 11."
colleauge and ex-friend: "Oops...sorry..."
me: manage to express "thanks for nothing", "what did i ever do to you", and "you're buying me a coffee later" with only my eyes. it's a gift.

Okay, so this is not a good situation. I'm starting this one in a hole...a deep one. I consider donning chainmail and a helmet before entering the room, but realize i left them in my car. They are stressed out, don't feel well, are scared out of their minds, and now they think that some nurse is just taking her sweet time getting to them. Deep breath...

I enter, introduce myself, and just to clarify once and for all that there is such thing as a dumb question ask something like, "So, are you all ready for me?"

The Mrs. is armed. It's knitting needles and she is working those things so fast, I swear I saw a couple of sparks. The needles fly through her fingers, but she stares, okay glowers, straight at me as she does some sort of knit one, snarl two pattern.

The Mr. (the patient), arms crossed across his chest, speaks first saying, "Ready? We've been ready. Where the hell have you been?"

they are stressed out, don't feel well and are scared out of their minds
they are stressed out, don't feel well and are scared out of their minds

I apologize, mention that there was a misunderstanding about the time, apologize again, and start to set up. I have to teach the Mr. to give himself shots...2 of them a day. I quickly learn that the doctor told them it was only 1 shot a day. I resist the urge to use the term Shinola when explaining that the doctor is incorrect.

Eventually, we hit our stride. They read the handouts, handle all of the equipment, watch me demonstrate, and practice on the model. Then the time comes to do the real thing. He's so fast I almost miss it. 1-2-3-done. 1-2-3-done. The first two shots are in and he gave them to himself. They give each other a funny raised-eyebrow smile and it's like a fever breaking. Then the emotions come pouring out:
"I haven't been that scared in a long time"
"I really didn't think I could do it"
"That wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was gonna be"
Their phone rings somewhere in there and they tell their daughter, "can't talk right now, we're working with our nurse". I smiled to myslef hearing the "our nurse"and yes, a small part of me thinks ha ha made you like me. Just a small part, I swear.

I go to leave and it's thanks and hugs all around. What a difference an hour makes.
The magic, for me, is in witnessing the evolution. To watch someone get it...understand...gain peace...explain it to their spouse like they've known it forever. To watch someone go from not knowing and fearing to knowing and accepting and doing right in front of you.

It's nursing distilled to its essence: providing direction, comfort, information, and hope to someone who really needs it. And I love it.