People ask me why I chose to become a home care nurse and I've thought about that answer for many years. Sometimes I say that I love to carve out quality time to teach people in their homes. Other times that I enjoy the autonomy and being there to solve the puzzle of the moment. Of course I love medication management, dressing changes, lung assessments...these are things I thrive on. Today though, I thought, "When somebody invites me into their home, they are inviting me into their life." Perhaps the bond that forms as a result of this invitation is what I love most, and I have made some special bonds through the years.
Rose V. I visited Rose once a week. She was a frail 90-year-old with congestive heart failure. I did all the important stuff first: weight, vital signs, lungs, call the doctor and suggest bumping up that lasix. Then I did the really important stuff...sat with Rose, while she slowly made her way to the fridge (without her walker) and pulled out this little metal tin lined with aluminum foil and a paper towel. It had stale, moist, mushy Pepperidge Farm cookies in it. I could never leave until we sat and had a cookie together. She wore a bright red satin slip sometimes under her very conservative dress, and I teased her about it as we laughed and ate those cookies. I miss her.
Josephine T. Josephine was a respectful and intelligent Italian woman in her late 80s with beautiful shining dark brown eyes and a witty sense of humor. She suffered from pulmonary disease. While I was assessing her, she would always have a word of wisdom for me. Once she said that I should never leave my home in anger, and that she and her late husband had always followed that rule. He used to tell her that maybe one night he wouldn't come home to her and he wouldn't want to have left in anger that morning. Years later his premonition came true and he died at work. Every once in a while, with a tear in her eye, Josephine reminded me of the story and said, "When he left that day, I had no idea he wouldn't be coming back to me, so never leave angry." That Christmas she wanted to give me a small blue-and-white porcelain box as a gift. I told her I wasn't really allowed to take gifts...she guffed... Josephine is gone. I still smile looking back... I didn't need the box to remember...I will never forget you, or your story Josephine.
Therese O. Therese had diabetes for years before I became her nurse. We spent a lot of time trying to figure out where her diet was going wrong. She was a wonderful lady, full of energy and life despite suffering from macular degeneration and near blindness. She would chat with me as I prefilled her insulin syringes and I would say very little. She told me all about her son who she adored. She talked fast, she walked fast, she never took a breath the whole time I was there... I just let her talk and talk. When the visit was over she would say, "I always feel so much better after I talk to you, Diane." When she passed, her son mailed a very old medal of a Saint to my agency and asked that it be given to me as Therese wanted "her nurse Diane" to have it. I take it out and look at it every now and then.
These are the reasons that I am a home care nurse. I love to make visits, to teach and to solve problems. I love to suggest things to doctors, do assessments and find ways to help. Crazy as it seems, I even like to document!! More than that, I love the people. I love to hear their story and see a glimpse of their life within their walls. I love to carry their memory and stories with me, and I love to share them. Rose, Josephine, Therese...I am a better person and a better nurse for having known them. I am fortunate that they invited me in. That is why I am a home care nurse.