Julie Carter wasn't my patient, but she taught me valuable lessons about nursing nonetheless. Though she was breathing on her own, she couldn't move or respond to her environment, let alone speak.
As a nursing student, I first saw Julie when I began my rotation in the critical care unit and was assigned to the patient in the next bed. I learned that Julie had been driving home one day and had car trouble. When she pulled over to use the emergency phone on the freeway, she was struck by a drunk driver and suffered severe head injuries. I couldn't tell her age by looking at her, but I found out later that she was the same age as I was: 27.
That day, Julie's father came to visit early in the morning and stayed by her bedside for hours. Shortly before lunch, I overheard Julie's nurse, Ruth, asking Mr Carter to leave so she could give Julie a bath.
I was filled with righteous indignation. To me, it sounded as if Ruth was just trying to get a job done-checked off-without regard for her patient's real needs. Mr Carter's presence is more important to them both than a bath, I fumed. How could Ruth be so insensitive, putting a trivial procedure ahead of Julie's emotional well-being and that of her family?
But Julie's father took the request in stride: He got up, gathered his things, and left without a word.
As I debated whether to say anything to Ruth about her insensitive behavior, she surprised me by asking for my help. I followed her to the bedside and checked to make sure we had everything we needed for the bath. Then Ruth closed the curtains around the bed and began to talk to Julie.
Ruth told Julie that she was going to give her a bath and that I was going to help her. In a kind tone, Ruth asked Julie if she wanted to have her hair washed. Ruth conveyed her respect and compassion for her patient in every word and gesture.
I didn't know if Julie could understand anything Ruth said, and she certainly couldn't respond. But Ruth treated her with dignity anyway, keeping her informed of what was happening every step of the way.
As we washed Julie's hair, Ruth massaged Julie's scalp and told her how long and pretty her hair was. She spoke of how warm the water was and how good it must feel. Once we were done, we wrapped a towel around Julie's hair and then started to bathe her. Ruth kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling her what we would do next as we turned her to the left and the right to wash her back.
Next Ruth handed me a bottle of scented lotion from an elegant store. Ruth told me that Mr Carter had brought it in because it was Julie's favorite scent. We applied the lotion to her back and then to her arms, hands, neck, and feet. Ruth then unwound the towel from Julie's head and combed and parted her hair.
Our work done, I was amazed by how refreshed Julie looked. Her skin tone was now rosy and she had a natural glow. All of a sudden, she looked my age again.
Ruth thanked me for my help, and I returned to my patient.
A few minutes later, I spotted Mr Carter returning with a young man. The young man approached Julie, gave her a kiss on the lips, then said, "You smell really good, babe!!" Mr Carter beamed.
At that moment, I realized what a tremendous impact Ruth had on her patient's family. What I'd originally dismissed as a thoughtless effort on Ruth's part to simply get her work done proved instead to be a sincere and priceless act of kindness. In the worst of times, she gave Mr Carter something to smile about.
Now whenever someone asks me why I chose nursing as a career, I think about Julie's bath. Superior technical nursing care helps many patients recover, but it takes a great and caring heart to genuinely touch a person's life. And making a difference, one patient at a time, is why I chose to become a nurse.
Performed with a dose of kindness, a humble nursing task becomes something out of the ordinary.