Power of Touch

"Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work." Mother Teresa

Today I started my first IV today. In a real person. In an actual patient. I mention this first because it really was a feat, something I will look back on and always remember. It was [and totally still is] a scary and nerve-wracking task to perform, but I can no longer say "I can't do it." Because I did. But what I really learned from my clinical experience today was about touch.

The majority of the day I spent shadowing an IV nurse. Essentially, we would get a page or an order via the computer, go up or down to the patient room, start a new IV or change a dressing or assess a PICC line- and then move on to the next assignment. Now first I must say this nurse was really good at what she did. No doubt about that. However, from the beginning of the day, I just kept thinking how can you just walk into a room, stick a needle in a patient and just leave? It was hard for me to do so- I wanted to assess how the patient was doing, whether they were in pain, know why they were in the hospital, offer some sort of comforting words...essentially just find out something more than what kind of veins they had. So I didn't have very high hopes for having a great day of connecting with patients.

But God is so good, so faithful, and has such a way of showing up in exactly the ways I need Him most, but don't expect Him to. Sometime mid-morning we went in to start a new IV in an older woman. She was apprehensive about being poked again, but otherwise was quite pleasant. I could tell she was in a lot of pain, so I instinctively just put my hand on her shoulder. She looked over at me, a bit surprised, but smiled slightly and sighed in a sense of relief. And in that moment, I knew that was all she needed from me right then. Just my hand touching her shoulder spoke volumes more than any words I could have come up with in that moment. I was communicating that I recognized she was a person, and in that moment, I wanted to care solely for her. It is always a challenge for me to disengage from such touching moments like that, but I also had peace that even that momentary connection was powerful.

I continued to experience this power of touch throughout the day. Every time I sensed a patient was struggling a bit- maybe in pain or lonely or discouraged or just in need of a little love- I would grab their hand, or stroke their arm. And every time the response was just so telling. People need love. People need to know they aren't alone in this world. And I can only imagine that for many of these patients...lying in bed alone with a list of diagnoses, a sterile looking-room, constantly being monitored, poked, assessed, administered to....even though they may be getting adequate, even exceptional, medical & nursing care- sometimes I think we forgot that maybe they just need us to let them know we care about them. And care enough to touch them. For the simple purpose of saying "I'm here."

One of the last patients of the day was a woman who had just arrived at the hospital. I don't know much about her medical condition or prognosis aside from severe pain related to a huge tumor on her ovaries. While the nurse initiated an IV, I was just chatting with her- making small talk and kind of getting a feel for the situation. She was describing her pain and what events led her to be in the hospital right now, and I nodded slightly to indicate I really did feel for her. I said something along the lines of "I hope better days are in your future" and just lightly touched her on the leg. And she just started crying. A lot. So much so that the nurse was a bit uncomfortable and was looking around for tissue. I volunteered to get some, instinctively. When I came back she was still crying, and I set down the tissue, and just went up to her, grabbed her hand. I looked into her eyes, and gave her a little squeeze. And I reiterated that I sincerely hoped that she would be relieved of her pain and suffering soon, and that she would be in my prayers. And she looked at me, and I just knew that she knew it was going to be okay. Maybe not right at that moment, maybe not without some more pain. But she wasn't going to give up.

Although nursing technical skills are important and a necessary part of being a nurse, I just cannot help but think that it just has to be more than that. For me at least, it has to be more. I want to love my patients. I want to know them in a way that makes them feel like they are the only person in the world in the moments I am interacting with them. I want to bless them. I want to encourage them. I want them to be able to cry. I want them to know they are loved. I want them to know that I am going to be there. I may not be able to take away pain. I may not be able to lead them into a full recovery. I may not even perform all of my skills to perfection. But I want all my patients to know they mean something and were fearfully and wonderfully made by our Father. And for me, that is the heart of nursing.