The patient was nearly the exact same age as my toddling daughter. When I was told they'd be coming to me for treatment I let out a loud sigh and even cursed under my breath. I knew it would be hard for me simply because looking at them would remind me of my own daughter. Even now, deep within my spirit it is difficult for me to separate pediatric patients from my own children. If my pediatric patient is in pain, I can envision my own child in pain. If I must start an IV on a child, I think of my own flesh & blood. It's instinctual for me. And yes, because of this, I then provide the utmost of nursing care but it still tugs at my heart strings too much for my liking. So much it hurts.
"Accidental burns," I was told by the triage nurse. Totally, completely accidental and as I watched the mother hold her young child I could read the feelings of helplessness in her eyes. The burns were visible, not super extensive but obvious to the naked eye. The child would be forever scarred on their face, ear and shoulder. As I took one quick glance at the toddler I knew Children's Hospital plastics would be required and sure enough, the physician was already consulting them for advice.
The child's shrill cries were ear piercing and heart breaking. Pain control. That was all I could think of when I began providing my nursing care. The baby looked up at me with large deep brown eyes and eye lashes that would make any grown woman green with envy. The eyes were haunting and I'll never forget them as long as I live. Crystal tears welled in their eyes and spilled over the rims like a rushing dam. I had to fix their pain.
The mother held her child in an awkward position so as to not irritate the burns. I could tell she wanted to hold her baby close to her chest and kiss their hair but because of the location of the burns, she couldn't. So while the pain medication began to work I showed her how to comfortably hold her child. As a mother, I would have wanted nothing less.
I began cleaning the baby's burns. Gently. Ever so gently. And the mother stood by quietly sobbing, gut-wrenching cries from the depths of her soul. She kept apologizing to her baby and stroking their hair as I cleaned. But she didn't need to apologize. There was nothing she could have done to prevent it. It was as clear-cut of an accident as anything else. But we mothers, always resume responsibility even if it's not called for. We carry our children's burdens. And with that comes feelings of unimaginable guilt. Perhaps the guilt isn't warranted, but nevertheless it's what we do, what we feel, if even for a moment it lifts the heavy burden from our child's shoulders.
She looked at me with an incredibly traumatized expression splashed across her face and I lifted my eyes to meet hers. I reached over the white-sheeted emergency stretcher and rested my hand atop hers. Softly, I spoke, "You need to forgive yourself. It was an accident. This was not your fault." It was as if she needed to hear that in order to release herself. Before my eyes she cried a deep, cathartic groan from within the bowels of her soul. She seemed to melt before me simply because of the gentle hand touch. All she could muster was a quietly whispered, "Thank you." Tears slipped down my cheeks and I brushed them away. I could see my child laying on the stretcher before me riddled with painful burns. I could see myself racked with guilt from not being able to prevent the accident. I could see the love between a mother and her child....a love no one else could understand unless they were a mother themselves.
That was the first time I had ever cried in front of a patient. I simply couldn't help myself. It was my human reaction in the moment. I'll never forget that baby and their mother. I wonder if they'll remember me.
5 comments:
I am always amazed at how nurses deal with things like this. I couldn't handle it. It takes a very special type of person to be able to do the job that you do. You are an amazing person.
I've remembered all the nurses that took care of me while I was in the hospital. :)
I once had a patient, 17 years old, attempted suicide. I will always always remember him, and often wonder does he remember me?
Thankyou for sharing :)
Hopefully, the child is too young and will not remember anything of this. But the mom will, and she will remember your grace and care for her and her child.
It is how you would have wanted to be treated in such a situation.
Im sure the mom did. It sounds like you helped her though a horrible time.
My wife's job got infinitely more difficult when we had kids. As a PICU nurse she sees things like this daily. The ones that get to her the most are the injuries that weren't accidental.
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