A Letter to All My Patients…

To those of you I have tried to help…past, present, and future.

On the eve of my twenty-fifth anniversary as a registered nurse at the local hospital, I have some thoughts to share with you.

First, I have to thank you for helping me become a better nurse, one patient at a time. Each of you has contributed to my growth, and my understanding of what it means to be a nurse.

You have shared your joys and your sorrows with me. You have confided in me, when you didn’t trust anyone else. You have told me things that needed to be said and didn’t need to be heard. By others. Not now, anyway.

You were afraid, so you reached out your hand to me. And I took your hand in mine and gently squeezed it. What you don’t know is that you gave me the strength to help you, not the other way around.

You had questions, and you expected me to know the answers. Sometimes, I didn’t. You taught me to keep looking until I found the answers you needed, or the person you needed to answer them.

You didn’t understand what was going on, so you asked me. I figured out as much, in the telling, as you did. And I probably learned more than you did, too. You learned for yourself, but you taught me so I could help lots of other people.

We cried together, when your loved one died. I didn’t know what to say, so I just held your hand, or hugged you. You taught me that actions speak louder than words, and that no words could assuage your pain.

And you taught me the meaning of dignity, in the face of adversity. You made me close the door before I examined you. You reminded me that you are a person, not a diagnosis in a hospital room.

Twenty-five years with the same logo on my paycheck, yes.

But I have not been doing the same job for all those years. That is the beauty of nursing: there are so many ways to do it. I have worked night shift, in med-surg nursing. Then I was the float nurse in Endoscopy, Same Day Surgery, AM Admit, and Recovery Room.

Then I worked just Recovery Room. I had to go back into the operating rooms to get orders for my patients from the anesthesiologists, and my interest in surgical nursing was piqued. I went there next.

After five years as the Operating Room Charge Nurse, I thought I was ready to be a Nurse Manager on one of the med-surg floors. And I did that for another five years. I guess I proved to myself that I could do it, but there was something missing:

You.

I went into nursing to take care of patients. To use my collective nursing skills to help those who needed my help. In my heart of hearts, I am a bedside nurse. And so, I left management and came back to the bedside.

Only now, I am in your home, not in the sterile, impersonal hospital. And you have greeted me with open arms. You are mostly always glad to see me. And you continue to teach me what I need to know.

Some of you are just a blur to me. We didn’t get to spend that much time together, and there have been so many of you over the last quarter of a century. And some of you have left an indelible mark on me, changing my nursing practice with your grace and grit.

To all of you, my humble thanks for enriching my life.