Dear
Diary,
During
my nostalgic crisis going through old pictures, I took aside a very
special one and hung it on my wall to keep the memory alive. I have
seen this picture many times before, but I had never noticed the
details, the facial expressions and their meaning. The picture was
taken one year after my brother's adoption.
I
am staring again at the picture, and I can see myself there, cozy in
my bed under a red flowery duvet, lying next to my two brothers,
Pedro and Lucas. Pedro is very close to me and we both smile with contentment. Lucas shows signs of being sleepy, probably wishing
for a good night of sleep. It looks like a winter night as we have
warm pajamas on and enjoy the closeness. I just wish my hair was not
so messy!
I
was probably reaching seven years old at the time of the picture,
having started first grade at a public school, three blocks away from
our apartment. I was still getting used to the idea of attending such
a big school away from home. My previous experience with schools had
been going to a small kindergarten, across the street from our
building, where there were probably not more than 10 kids in my
class, and only one other girl besides me. So indeed, it was a big
adjustment.
As
I stare at the picture, I hear a thousand words, captured with a
click. These were some good childhood times, with a safe distance
from adulthood, away from many worries. My main responsibility was to
do well at school and show good behavior.
Lately,
as a professional, there are so many more decisions on my hands, some
that I will probably regret of taking later on. I know that what I am
going through now, the fact that I will have to admit in my unit a
child with a disease that is still unknown, is a decision from which
I can't hide or run away. But I have decided to take on the challenge
and face what may follow. This morning, I could sense the weight on
my team's thoughts as they were getting ready for the new patient.
All of us have already received a quick training from the specialists
and learned some information about the disease; we also have the
special isolated room ready to go. But there are still many
unanswered questions.
I
called all of my team to a special meeting as we had to choose the
main people that were going to oversee the case. I did not want to
force anyone to start with the direct care, but felt like leaving to
those that felt more comfortable taking on the challenge. Some had
come to talk to me privately sharing their concern of risking their
lives while they have families at home to support. However, one
experienced person in our team told me that he would like to take on
the case, so I will leave the case to him at first.
We
are vulnerable but we also know that we have many protective barriers
to be used. The isolated bedroom is specially built to keep the
inside air from coming outside, paired with a system of filters to
decrease contamination, besides all the individual masks and body
surface covers.
It
will surely not be the best humanized care, as the patient is being
cared by people covered from head to toe, that look more like
astronauts than real human beings. A barrier of gowns, glasses,
masks, gloves will make it difficult for any emotional exchange
during care. But there is no other way; it is our goal to stop the
spreading of something that could take away many lives. On the bright
side, the isolated bedroom contains many children's art painted on
its walls creating a space of hope and beauty to overcome the
sadness. I wish the ceiling was also covered with art, as most of the
time the sick children have the ceiling as their only horizon.
Later
on this morning, I got a call informing that the child will be on her
way to our hospital tomorrow; a special ambulance will be responsible
for the transfer and they will arrive early on my shift. The child is
a little girl that has been under observation in her hometown
hospital since she started to show some specific symptoms of this
disease. However, they don't have the appropriate settings to prevent
contamination, so it was decided that she needed to be transferred to
our more equipped setting. Her case has not yet been confirmed with
100% surety to be the unknown disease, because a big part of the
diagnosis depends on the symptoms, but we are going to take care of
her with the precautions as if she was already a confirmed case.
The
unit seems to be under regressive counting. We all know that if the
case is confirmed we could be the first ones to treat such disease in
our country and our team could even enter history as the heroes that
gave their lives to save humanity. Maybe my name will be quoted next
to Florence Nightingale or Ana Néri, as a nurse that made a
difference. Or maybe, after having given our lives, we may just be
forgotten. One way or another, I know that nursing is more than just
a call; it is also a profession like many others where you have to
study a lot and be qualified. Compassion, emotions and emphatic
feelings are very important but it is not all about that, there is
also professionalism and competence.
Once
in a while, while in school, to break free from so much technical
knowledge, I enjoyed reading poetry, and also writing some. I once
read an article that stated that the unconscious is able to open up
through poetry. The article got me thinking, so I tried to write
poetry using only my unconscious side (or at least that is how I like
to think), not bringing up any conscious thoughts, but just letting
the mind run free and writing down whatever words came out, following
a rhythm.
At
first, I was not successful, but after some practice I was surprised
by the results of such activity. Distant words gathered together and
brought up beautiful meaning. After all, I guess the article was
right, the unconscious really opens up when we allow it, and inside
its content there is much more than I ever imagined. Or that or I am
gifted with this unusual art and should find a way to turn it into
profit!
After
practicing with a few "unconscious" poems, I decided to
find out what was inside my unconscious brain about nursing. I
dedicated the poem "To the Florence Nightingales" and
started to work on it. (If you are unfamiliar with Florence
Nightingale, I suggest that you look up her name, as learning about
her life will help you to understand better the content of the poem)
The words first came out confusing, however, after finishing it and
reading it, I realized that there was some meaning and beauty about
the history of nursing inside my unconscious!
To
the Florence Nightingales
Whitewashed
figures around spaces,
Forming
fractions of performance,
Interdict
each burst of terror,
Fear,
anguish and longing.
Handling
injured aspects,
Confused
with the fatal scenario,
Delivering
trapped sweetness,
In
chest captive smiles.
Feelings
being spread, hungry,
For
the desire of pure care,
Facilitated
by the emphatic forms,
Fitted
with a winged character.
The
touch of high heels in motion,
Evoke
powerful spells,
Capable
of socializing weepings,
Constrained
to the bed mourning.
The
power is not limited to the contained,
In
the powder, liquid or instrument,
But
to the fine manners, to the respect,
For
the other, being, subject.
Rewards,
excluded of gains,
Summarized
by the look, by the satisfaction,
From
faces illuminated by the spirit,
Of
the givers of contentment.
My
poetry phase has already ended, but I learned that maybe I could use
this same resource with my patients. To restore from their
unconscious, treasures that could free them from the pain their
conscious is feeling, opening their perception so they can hear what
they are telling themselves.
Good
night,
L.
Book: A fight for Life
CHAPTER 5 (Part 2) coming soon...