Stern Lady
While walking from room to room in the ICU, it is immediately evident that I am new. I'm a respiratory therapist on his last clinical rotation ever, at a mid-size community hospital. I am green to the profession, a point that is only stressed more by my green scrubs amongst a sea of blue worn by everyone else.
This day was slow, just a few vent checks and treatments all around. I have become fairly confident in most aspects of respiratory care, particularly in communication and small talk with patients, which is probably the most notable growth I've made through two years of school.
Four patients down, two more to go. I walked into the next room and was greeted by a patient who was hunched over in her bed and clamping down with the bed rails. She had a very stern look on her face.
"Hi hun, how are you?" I asked.
Nothing.
"Are you ready for your breathing medicine?"
Nothing.
Hmmm, I thought. Maybe she's just unhappy and doesn't feel like talking. I put her treatment on, and checked all vitals. Nothing out of the ordinary.
She must just be unhappy. Can't say I blame her, who wouldn't be upset, stuck in an intensive care unit, I thought to myself.
Once the treatment let up, I took off the mask. Vitals good. Appearance is good, other than the same stern look and clutching of the rails.
I'll leave her alone, I concluded.
Upon telling this to the other therapists, it became evident that this was a well-known occurrence. She simply had not talked or made any type of motion while anyone was in the room with her.
A few days later, I was helping a floor therapist with a huge patient load. I walked into a different room, and to my surprise, there was the woman. Her treatment was still running, and she had the same exact appearance as she did in the ICU.
This time, however, she freed one of her arms from clutching the bed rail to try and pour herself a cup of water. Soon, the water was overflowing from the cup and getting all over the bed table. I took the pitcher of water from her hands and set it down. I grabbed some paper towels and cleaned up the mess. The treatment ran out, so off came the mask. The lady was still hunched over, not making a sound. Before I went out of the room, I grabbed the cup of water and held it to her face.
"Do you want some water?" I inquired.
She took a sip. I placed the cup back down at bedside and began to leave the room. She looked up at me.
"Thank you!" she said with the biggest smile I've seen in some time.
"You're welcome," I said and smiled back.
Yep. This is why I love this job already, I thought while leaving the room.