Equilibrium of the Heart

I took a patient who was on the Labor and Delivery floor down to an exam twice. Both times she was nauseated, and when I took her the second time, she could barely stand, and felt even worse. She and her husband looked visibly scared. The second time down, I asked her husband how he was doing, and he told me how scared he was. I told him that I understood having a family member in the hospital with complications. As I took my patient to the exam the second time, my hands were gripping the handles of the chair so tightly, I figured my knuckles were white (that is, if I could see through my gloves). My muscles in my forearms were contracted so tight that they hurt. I was scared for them. I was upset that her labor was being complicated by something the doctor sent her down for yet another exam to try and find out what it was. Both times to and from the exams, I helped her in and out of the wheelchair. Both times I was with her when she got sick on us. Both times, I got out damp paper towels for her face.

My last transport of the day was some medicine she had to take before yet another different exam. I inwardly cringed when my dispatcher told me to do that transport because I knew from my 5 months working at the hospital what the medicine was for, and because of that, I assumed it was for my patient. Tears came to my eyes. How could she drink this medicine when she couldn't hold anything down? How could she go to yet another exam when she thought she was done when I brought her back to her room for the second time? Would the doctor finally figure out what was wrong? Just don't cry, ok? a part of my mind said. God's still in control. You just need to give this patient to Him. I was able to explain to my newest co-worker what the medicine we were getting was since he came along with me. Giving a mini lecture helped me not to cry. Yet even as I write this now, I wonder if my patient was able to take the medicine, if she went down to that final test, and how far along she was in labor. I knew that if things got any worse, she would just have a C-Section and then surgery to find and fix the other problem. But it's not what she or her husband expected, and she was in so much pain.

I told my mom who has her BSN about the case. She told me basically that the equilibrium of a healthcare worker's/ nurse's / doctor's heart is this: You feel for the patient, but you still focus to do your job. You empathize with the patient, but you must still be able to leave him or her and care for others. Yet it is still ok to cry at the end of the day. My third week at the hospital, I saw a doctor sobbing on another's shoulder. She had come out of a patient care conference, so she had done what she needed to do. But she also had to let her heart go toward that patient. She could be a good doctor and yet still cry. And I am learning that too: You can do a good job of whatever God wants you to do in medicine, and He is there for you when you pray for your patient and yes, He is there for you to just cry.