I am one of those people that has funny reactions to anesthesia. Everything seems hilarious to me! The nurses in the recovery room get a good kick out of it, while whichever family member happened to drive me to the appointment tries to shush me so they don’t die of embarrassment.
I had a similar reaction during an overnight recovery in the intensive care unit after a major surgery. I was heavily drugged and was told beforehand that I’d likely sleep through the rest of the day and the entire night. I’m sure I slept most of the time, but I definitely woke up several times especially when the nurse caring for me came in.
Her name was Lynn. I know because I asked and commented that she had the same name as my mom. Whenever Lynn came in (or at least the times she came in and I was coherent), I’d offer her a warm greeting, ask how she was doing, and strike up a conversation. She’d laugh saying that I was supposed to be resting and that it was her job to make sure I was doing well. I have no idea how many of these little interactions we had over the course of the night but I’m certain there were quite a few.
The next morning, two nurses came in telling me that it was time for me to get up and go for a walk. One of the nurses was apparently new and the other was training her. They were both so wrapped up in reviewing the procedures that they didn’t seem to notice how their jostling was causing me pain. Somehow, they got me on my feet, a very unpleasant process with the 7-inch incision down my abdomen and multiple tubes sticking out of me.
I stood there while they continued to discuss logistics with each other. I didn’t get upset with them; I could respect that one was training the other. Plus, I barely had enough energy to stand, let alone speak up. The pleasant feeling from an evening of dozing and chatting was quickly wearing off, along with the sedatives and pain killers.
In the middle of the other nurse’s lesson, Lynn came into the room to tell me her shift was over and that she was going home. I tried to smile as she said how much she enjoyed talking with me that night, but I have no idea if I had enough energy to even do that. Then Lynn took my hands in hers, looked me in the eyes and said, “I hope we get to meet in the real world one day.”
Our interaction with each other was brief, yet it still had such a huge impact on me. Her kindness was like a little spark of hope in my heart when my body didn’t feel like my own. There were several other great nurses that cared for me during my week-long stay. Each time they looked me in the eye, gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, and talked to me like I was human, the spark was rekindled.
Last week was Nurses Appreciation Week. I see nursing as one of those professions full of unsung heroes. They are often overworked caring for so many patients. They can be forgotten about in large, complex systems. And the patients they care for may be too caught up in their own frustration and pain to show their gratitude. But if you’ve ever met a good nurse, you know just how impactful their care can be.
To all the nurses out there, please accept my little story as a token of my appreciation for the work you do.
And in case this story ever gets to Lynn, I also hope we get to meet in the real world one day.
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