Chicken Soup for the Nurse's Soul: Second Dose by Jack Canfield & Mark Victor Hansen & LeAnn Thieman & L.P.N

Author:Jack Canfield & Mark Victor Hansen & LeAnn Thieman & L.P.N. [Canfield, Jack & Hansen, Mark Victor & Thieman, LeAnn & L.P.N.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780757398537
Publisher: Chicken Soup for the Soul Publishing, LLC
Published: 2010-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

A Lesson in Saying Good-bye

Love one human being purely and warmly and you will love all.

Jean Paul Richter

As I sat with my father during his final days, my mind sometimes wandered to years gone by. One afternoon my thoughts drifted back to my sixteenth year, when the mother of my future husband was dying from breast cancer. When she told me, “I’m dying,” all I could manage to reply was, “I know.” I was young and inexperienced and felt terribly inadequate.

But now, after more than twenty years of nursing, I’ve learned that there are many ways of dealing with death. One death in particular affected me tremendously.

On that memorable day, Terri, the night nurse, told me in report that Paddy Doyle had been admitted the previous evening. A spirited elderly man, Paddy had been a patient many times in the past. He was as jolly as Santa Claus, and we’d all grown fond of him.

But this time he was dying.

Terri said, “His wife went home ‘to refresh’ late last evening. She left strict instructions to be called if his status changed. Did you know they just celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary? It’s so sad.

“Paddy’s feet are dusky and he’s been slipping in and out of consciousness for the last hour. I called his wife and she’s on her way.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when Mrs. Doyle glided down the hallway, looking so elegant that I could hardly believe she’d been a bride sixty years ago. She looked as though she’d had her hair coiffed at the beauty parlor and her makeup was flawless. I doubted that she’d slept a wink getting ready for her final date with her husband.

She took the news of his impending death in a dignified way. Squaring her narrow shoulders, she made her way to his room, her feet barely making a sound on the polished floor.

Being young, I didn’t want to consider that someday I might have to go through the same thing with my own husband. I wanted to cry for her loss. They hadn’t had children, and most of their relatives were old and sick. How was she going to adjust to being alone?

On my rounds to assess patients, I paused outside of Paddy’s closed door. I didn’t know what to say to this couple, who were like grandparents to me.

I knocked lightly on the door but got no answer. As I started to walk away, the door slowly opened.

“Come in, child,” said Mrs. Doyle graciously, stepping back from the door.

He looks awful, I thought as I approached my patient. Why is this so hard? I wish I’d called in sick.

I immediately regretted my sentiments. Better get your act together. She’s going to need you.

Then I noticed that she didn’t need me. In fact, she was holding up quite well.

Mrs. Doyle resumed her business and seemed unaware of my presence. She spoke to her husband softly, saying, “I’m going to get you cleaned up, Paddy.”

“Do you need help?” I asked.

“No dear.

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