Lessons in Healthcare

Yesterday I had lunch with a friend of mine. I met her on my first day of work as a nurse in June 1978. I was a scared new graduate nurse working at Hahnemann Hospital. We wore starched white uniforms, white stockings and the clinic shoe. If you know, you know. My friend was already out of school two years when I graduated, and I thought she was so smart and good! And she was. And is. A great teacher.

We became not only workmates, but friends. We had work adventures and non-work adventures. We were in each other’s weddings and then as happens lost constant touch with each other. She had kids, I didn’t. She stopped working full time and I didn’t. But always a bond! I knew her life had some bumps lately. Like mine.

So oxygen in tow, off to my friend’s house for lunch. As I walked in her door, a hospital bed was to my immediate left. Lying contently in bed but not interacting was her husband. Over five years ago he’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. For five years she’s cared for him. The last year he’s been bedbound. My friend said the hospice nurse for her husband told her she’s giving him wonderful care. She said, “I’m a nurse!’

We spent the afternoon reminiscing about the “good old days of healthcare.” Before AIDs, before COVID. Before pumps. Counting IV drops by hand; mixing our own IV meds; mixing our own peritoneal dialysis solution. Caseloads anywhere from 14 to 25 patients. I worked the permanent 3-11 shift. Get report, assess your patients, introduce yourself. Do your medication rounds. Frequent check-ins and a backrub offered. Always. And I thought about my recent hospital stay.

Laying in the bed, the door opened and a machine wheeled in. With two feet behind it. A human popped out from behind with a scan gun. “Hello, I’m your nurse. Can I scan your wristband? Name and date of birth please.” Wow, hello to you too! In fairness, many staff are not as seasoned. I was looking for connection. For eye contact. For that reassurance and care. What found was the technology of progress. All charts correct. All i’s dotted and t’s crossed. What I didn’t see was the human contact I was hoping for. And I became frightened for our futures. Who will care for us? How will they care for us? As we adjust to technology and robots and AI, let’s not forget being human. May we all walk this road a little more aware and a little more compassionately. Like my friend.

For she’s never lost her touch, her compassion. She is selflessly caring for her husband. What a great example. She’s still teaching me. Teaching me how to walk each other home.