The other day I was reading the paper and my husband interrupted. He asked, “What are you reading?” “I’m reading the obituaries,” I replied. He shook his head and smiled, “You’re the only person I know who reads the obituaries.” “Hey I’m a nurse,” I explained. “I know most of these people.” But do I really know them?
Have you ever taken care of a patient for a long while and after a week or so, you feel like you know their anatomy intimately, their family dynamics and their financial situation better than your own? At least you think you did until you read their obituary.
That little old man with a history of COPD, heart disease and stroke in room four was a physicist for twenty years! He sure didn’t look like a nuclear physicist. He was cachetic, disheveled, and had difficulty figuring out the call bell.
I stared at the picture of a young, smiling confident woman in the paper, she looked vaguely familiar. As I read the name below the picture I realized it was the lady with liver disease, ascites and delirium from room ten. The obituary reported she attended a prestigious university, was active in community service and school committees and was highly regarded in her community. What an accomplished woman, I wondered how she ended up in this situation.
Unfortunately as a nurse in the ICU, I only have one view of my patient
—that of a vulnerable, weak person, many times sedated, ventilated and monitored. The sea of humanity flows in and out of my workplace and more often than not,
patients start looking alike, have similar illnesses and maladies, and loose a sense of individualism to me.
To help with this we started a “Get to Know Me Poster” for our ICU patients. The poster hangs in all patients rooms. Families are encouraged to bring in pictures to place on the posters and to share personal information about their loved one such as occupation, pets, favorite music and hobbies.
As I read the posters, the patient develops individuality. I realize how privileged I am to be a part of their life. I realize these people had busy, productive lives and that I’m only seeing a very small part of who they are.
We are all alike in many ways. Some of us have traveled different roads, but we all have a need to feel loved, needed and productive.
Do you really “know” your patients? What do you do in your practice to acknowledge patient individualism?