When Patients Become Family

At home I hesitate.
At home I analyze.
At home I watch my back.

I've learned that Nursing is Nursing wherever you go.  To be put in a situation in which one can use the tools and knowledge that they have gained to provide care and compassion to another is virtually universal.  The manner in which an individual decides to disperse this knowledge and kindness however is enormously dependent upon the surroundings.

I think the hardest part about working in a hospital in the States is the fact that I am continuously looking over my shoulder.  I have been taught to dot every i and cross every t, not because if I don't a patient will feel the effects, but because I will get reprimanded, sued, or even fired.  Nursing has gradually drifted away from patient care and has eased it's way into a more politically driven profession.  Although I'm quite the rule-follower, I refuse to forget why I chose the nursing profession in the first place.  Often times all it takes is a brief thought about how I would want my family member to be treated, and I quickly throw the politics in the back seat and continue on with what I love to do.  Of course I love cuddling babies, snatching kids from their beds to rock them to sleep, and hugging or high five-ing the adults as they waltz by.  At home though, I am forced to consider what that looks like to those around me.  Did I finish charting my assessments?  Will I be done rocking him in time to hang a feed for my other patient?  My mind has been trained to think about the tasks at hand.  I have to consciously remind myself about what is important.

The time I've spent on the ward on the Africa Mercy has been just the opposite.  The patients that we have had the privilege of treating have become family.  Mothers have willingly handed their babies over knowing full well we enjoy and sometimes need the extra cuddles just as much as their child.  Parents reassure their children that we are only trying to help get them better and place a trust in us that is never taken for granted.  The adults get comfortable enough to tell us to get cracking on finding a husband and start our own baby making - typical family conversations.  Thankfully, my time in Africa has reminded me of the relationships we, as nurses, are blessed with.  I can only hope that I will bring what I've learned here, back to my future patients.

A few of my favorite moments:
When Hosanna's Dad and Emmanuel's Mom referred to me as Mama Kariiiiiin.  It was all the proof I needed that they trusted me with their children.  I was happy they could see the love I have for their boys.

 

 

 

When the three lovely ladies, Florence, Habiba, and Bijoux went all "Mama Bear" on me and showered me with gentle eyes and encouraging hugs when I visited the ward after Becky had left the ship.

 

 

When, on my final evening shift, I asked Habiba how many children she had.  She held up one finger as she was smoothing out the blankets on her bed.  I asked her, "Can I be your second child?"  Without missing a beat, and with a stern and very serious face, she looked up and said, "You already are my child."  She shook her head at me, as if to say - Seriously Karyn, you really had to ask that?

 

I'm beyond grateful for the relationships that were created during this experience.  Here on the Africa Mercy, my work nor my motives have been challenged or judged - and that makes a difference.  It allows me to make a difference.  This is what I hope to bring back home.