Have you thanked a nurse today?
May 12, 2005
Xoliswa Zulu
Theirs is an unglamorous profession that has them on their feet for 12 hours or more at a stretch, removing smelly bed-pans and changing the dressings on gory wounds.
Nurses are the backbone of hospitals, but these Florence Nightingales are unsung heroines.
Before International Nurses Day today, I volunteered to step into the shoes of a day nurse at a busy city hospital to experience first-hand the challenges that nurses face every day.
So, clad in a blue nurse's uniform and comfortable shoes, I went on my rounds with the nauseating smell of disinfectant everywhere.
Assigned to the cardio thoracic ward, where patients who have suffered strokes, heart surgery, fractured chests, TB and related illnesses recuperate, I was a bit uncertain of how I would survive being on my feet for a whole day.
But from the beginning, my discomforts aside, I felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that I would be helping to improve the day of a sick patient.
I was told that I should be patient and understanding with people, as some could be very rude and demanding because they were in hospital or simply because they were not well.
But the first patient was an elderly woman who, notwithstanding her fractured chest and bruises, greeted me with a warm smile.
Thembi Gwala, the staff nurse to whom I was assigned, had no qualms about letting me do things on my own.
The first patient, Mrs Smith*, was aware that I wasn't a nurse but let me examine her anyway.
An hour later, I felt as though I had been hiking since dawn. My feet were throbbing and my back was aching, and I felt the need to sit down.
But all around me the real nurses were brimming with energy.
They didn't bat an eyelid when they had to dress foul-smelling wounds. But I thought I was going to faint from nausea when I watched Gwala prepare another dressing for a patient's wounds, reapply the cream and make sure the wounds were clean. I wasn't able to take my role as play-nurse that far.
And so the process continued, with patient after patient being visited, bedpans removed, dressings changed, heart rates checked . . . Even with patients unable to communicate clearly, like Mr Essop*, who had suffered a stroke, there appeared to be a silent telepathy between nurse and patient.
I, however, could not communicate with him, and when he tried to ask for help, I felt powerless, and had to call another nurse to offer him some assistance.
Every patient was given individual care on every round. Everyone was made comfortable. Everyone was made to feel special, as if he or she was the only one in the ward.
By lunch time I was ready to throw in the towel. My feet were killing me even though I'd only been there for five hours. But the nurses were there for another seven hours.
I was completely overwhelmed. On International Nurses Day today, I pay tribute to these unsung heroines whose shoes I could never fill.
xzulu@nn.independent.co.za
*Not their real names
