Nurse Days

Monday, October 18, 1999

Today we were once again at the nursing home. This time I cared for E.H. All I knew about her ahead of time was that she had a catheter, was scheduled for a shower, and that she used to be a nurse herself. In fact, I picked her myself because of the latter. To say that I was severely unprepared for what I saw when I walked in her room would be a gross understatement.

E. is diagnosed with aphasia, multiple flexion contractures, senile dementia, atrial fibrillation, congestive heart failure, hypertension, esophageal reflux disease, seizures, chronic UTIs and generalized osteoporosis. She is currently taking 15 different medications for these disorders.

However horrible it may sound, she reminded me of a human pretzel the first time I saw her--her contractures having so disfigured her small frame she is literally folded in half. I was afraid to move her for fear I would hurt her, and when she started to repeat, "My poor back," and, "I don't know why I'm alive," I started to cry. I felt so sorry for this poor woman, and I could do nothing to ease her pain. I asked for help whenever I had to move her, and getting her undressed for her shower was a nightmare! Her leg was so far drawn up that I couldn't have gotten pants on her if I'd tried. I felt like a useless waste.

Afterwards, one of my fellow students (Tea) said she's taken care of E.H. in home health before she'd been admitted to the nursing home. She said E.H. was a real challenge then, and that I'd done fine.

E. would wrap her left arm (her good arm) around my neck and cry. I squatted down and hugged her, attempting to console her somewhat, all the while crying myself.

I just wish she weren't in so much pain.