A while back I went to my annual international forensic meeting. It was attended by both women and men who work in this highly specialized area of nursing, and included even sub-specialties within our practice. For all, the crux of the focus was the caring and compassion for our patients and their loved ones.
Throughout this meeting I continued to realize, more and more, that in reality, it is not just nurses who should specialize in caring and compassion for others. We all need to.
I get it. Our cell phones are ringing, car horns are honking, obnoxious alarm clocks scream to wake us up after way-insufficient sleep, and we are constantly bombarded by all kinds of noise pollution. Like Velcro against a woolen sweater, we are often pulled and stretched. Snagged against our will, we bear the strain of seams torn and worn.
No matter what role we serve, our schedules are full. Many, if not most of us, wander- and wonder- where we are really going. My question for those of us who can stop even for one minute to ponder, is this: where are we NOW? In this moment, physically, emotionally, where are we?
Are we on that hamster wheel, running faster and faster, chasing dreams of all we desire, feel entitled to, or lost and not-yet found? Do we run singly along-side one another on the same wheel (like toddlers who engage in parallel play,) headphones on (like blinders,) with our music replacing the sounds of nature, drowning out potential human interaction?
Mostly, I attempt to figure out if we don't know where we are in life, how will we know where to go? Maybe it doesn't matter. In nursing, we meet people where they are at, and compose a care plan to take them to where we want them to be. What if our nursing assessment of their present orientation and status do not match theirs? Does that really even have to matter? Some people who have a terminal prognosis, prefer not to know. They intend to live out each moment of their remaining days as a gift, rather than "existing" until the end of the week, hoping for a weekend full of family and fun. Some are just hoping for another weekend. Their focus is taking yet another breath. They would give anything to take in the essence of those they adore… for just another moment. Another day would be even better. When was the last time you thought about the luxury of taking just one more breath?
We cannot forget those who lost their lives this past week, in two separate gun-related massacres located in Savannah, Georgia, and San Bernardino, California. I can promise you that it was not only nurses who participated in aiding the victims. All the people who were willing to “take a bullet” for hostages in order to rescue them, those in the line of fire, the ones who stepped in to rescue and treat the injured, and those who had the horrendous task of removing the dead bodies from the carnage… I feel sure that for ALL involved, their lives are forever altered. They will never have the option of taking an eraser to wipe away the images on the blackboard in their mind. How do any of us even begin to put ourselves in their place? There is no class or education that prepares any of us for a heinous situation where our demise looks us squarely in the eye. One where we sit in the front row; this teacher is one we would NEVER choose. It can be one or many gun toting individuals who hold no respect for human lives of others, who decide for us that our lives do not even matter! Sadly, they teach us all so many lessons. But one thing is for sure; we need no nursing, or any degree, to get it. When situations like these occur, we need to take stock. Take stock of all that we have. Take stock of WHAT we have; what we all are individually equipped with to step in and make a difference. Whether we render first aid, surgically remove bullets from flesh, offer a listening ear, raise funeral funds and find ways to help families who’ve lost their financial providers, bring awareness to sorely needed recognition of those suffering from mental illness who have access to weapons…We all have a responsibility to open our hearts. Even if we were not physically there, didn't lose a loved one, we cannot lose sight of the fact that if our hearts are beating, we have the chance to care and lend compassion. It costs nothing. It makes a difference. I promise.
As I discuss in my memoir, Room in the Heart; Surviving a Childhood Undone, Fulfilling a Pact to Love, who is to say how we should live, who we should love, what we should cherish, and what REALLY matters? It all comes down to caring and compassion. We all walk a different journey, and that should be okay. It might not be what we would choose for ourselves or for others, but our society as a whole would be bettered by a respect that pervades all journeys and life-lessons. You don't need a nursing degree to honor that. This school called “life” is ongoing. There is no spring break or summer vacation. No reading list. The lessons are ongoing, all day, and all night-long. There are both tests and surprise quizzes. No study guides are available. Love, compassion and taking stock in all we have to give- they are the courses. We are the course instructors, the students and the lessons. We are the black board, we hold the chalk, we write the ever-changing game plan. We cannot erase away pain, but we can learn from it and gain strength and resolve to MAKE A DIFFERENCE!
When you take your next breath, will it be borne from a place of thankfulness? None of us knows whose hand we will hold when we breathe our last, but until then, make your every breath matter. Breathe life into those in need- because it is our need and our moral responsibility to be there for souls seeking comfort. Be the blessing that is the band aid for our society. No degree necessary. Just a beating heart…