Everything Is Not What It Seems

Probably every single one of us have been to an Emergency room at some point of our lives; Some city, some state, either for ourselves, our spouse, our children, our parent's, sibling or a with a friend.   Each experience unique, each find us with a rapidly beating pulse because in one instant we have lost control of a situation....called life..   And in that instant, people you never met in your entire life, now control your time, your medications, your diagnosis, your treatment time, your outcome and your trust.  Most hospital circumstances start in the Emergency Department and many end there as you are handed discharge instructions. Many end there, period.  Many bring you not only Beyond The ER Doors but into the larger doors of the unknown called the "hospital experience."   I won't put out the welcome sign.  It's not a welcome experience.  As a Registered Nurse in the Emergency Department, which has been a part of my life for many many years - I will start you out with a poem I wrote for my nursing graduation class.  It's my philosophy on nursing - read up.    Every hospital has a philosophy.  Do they hold true to them?   You decide.   I can assure you, that I hold to mine.   Put the side rails of your stretcher up and keep your arms inside;, tomorrow you go through the double doors.

DO YOU KNOW ME??
I lay in crisis. Alienated from my body, unable to control or demand that which sustains my life.

Images dance in my mind of white walls, white sheets, white sounds and white smells. The hall of loneliness. The hall of my reality that has yet to be painted with the colors of my life, of my individualism. I am cold and shivering as I huddle beneath this blanket of white.

I lay so still and quiet that I can hear the beating of my own heart. I deny what my mind focuses into images of sickness and pain.  My sickness, my pain.

I lay in a bed that I did not make, on sheets that I did not purchase, in clothes that don't resemble what I tuck safely into my bed wearing. I yearn for the smells, the sights, the sounds of a life I had until the moment I came to this place, to this second in my life.

I realize that I am paralyzed by my fear.  I don't want to die. I dont' want to be here. I cannot put into words the rage, anger, pain, frustration and cloud of doom I feel in every cell of my body.  God, I'm afraid.

My family look at me with the same fear in their eyes that I know I must have in mine. We are mirror images of each other, connected by memories and love, locked into this fear together.  Guilt at what I've brought o their world. Remorse at what has been brought to mine.

My body has been invaded by things I never knew existed. Tubes in my arms that carry precious fluid into my body. Tubes that carry the same fluid out of my body into full view as the world is now privy to my public humiliation. Medication being given to help my body heal that I don't even know the names of.  A thousand nurses, doctors and tech's coming and going into my world without so much as an introduction, a glance, smile or touch. As they go about their "normal" day,  I can assure them, it is not a normal day, at least not in my world, in my reality.

Do these strangers to my world understand that when they look up at the machine that carries my heartbeat across a screen, that they are seeing the day I was born, the day I learned to walk, the day I learned to ride a bike, the day I was promoted, got my first car, shared my first kiss.  Do they understand that when they feel my arm as they attempt to feel my heartbeat that they are feeling the rushing of the blood which contains my past and my future?  Do they understand that when they listen to the rising and falling of my chest that they are in witness to the air on which I depend to sustain my world, my memories, my hope? 

They are hearing a heart that smiled the day I was married, a thousand rings of laughter and a few hundred tears that were cried in happiness and in defeat. A heart that carried me from one sunrise to the next, that allowed me to touch the precious faces of my daughter, grand-daughter's, son-in-law, hug my parent's, brother, husband and friends, that allowed me to swim in the ocean, that allowed me to live.  Among all these machines are they seeing the shadows of my life? Can you see me?  Have you looked into my eyes?  Have you taken my hand?  Do you know me?

I am without direction.  I am consumed in my white world of confusion, pain and fear.  My internal compass taken from me the moment I entered this generic world.

I glance at my name band and almost smile at the irony.  I now come with a name and a number.   I am a prisoner. I am a prisoner of my illness.  My mind commands and my body does not respond I express wishes that may or may not be heeded.   I want to be alone as I experience this intense crisis and yet I must share this place with strangers.  Tears fall at a reality I cannot change.

Strangers work to save my life.  But do they see my life?  Do you know me?  Beyond the machines, medications and beyond the routine, do you see me?  You are impacting my life with each word, each step and each touch.  I do not have a choice but to share this journey with you but you made a choice to share this journey with me, the moment you clocked into work.  Long after you have forgotten this day, this time with me, I will forever be reflecting on it.  I spent a lifetime arriving at this moment. These may be my last moments, ARE YOU SHARING THEM WITH ME?         Do you know me?   I AM YOUR PATIENT !

Cynthia Balkwill RN BSN