On Being a Caregiver
It’s the sense of touch…In any real city, you walk past other people, brush against them. In L.A. nobody touches you, we’re always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much that we crash into each other just so we can feel something.
-Opening lines from the movie   -Crash.
Jean was tired. Only on the job for three weeks, she wondered if nursing was really for her. “I thought the nurse’s aides would handle bedpans,” she moaned to her charge nurse as she washed her hands. “I didn’t go to nursing school for this.”
Lorraine the charge nurse lifted her coffee mug off the counter and invited Jean to sit down. “Why did you go to nursing school? It can’t have been because you wanted to get rich…”
“I’m a nurse because I want to help cure sick people. But yesterday, I spent twenty minutes shaving that stroke patient, Mr. Johansson. We could call a barber to do stuff like that.”
“How did Mr. Johansson seem after you shaved him?”
“Because of his stroke, he didn’t say much. But he smiled a little.”
“How do you think he felt after you cleaned off his face?” Lorraine asked.
“Better, I suppose.”
“So you made him feel better without giving him any medication or doing any other procedures on him? And he knows you’re a nurse who’s doing something extra to help him.”
“Yes. But he’s still paralyzed,” Jean said.
“That’s right. Can you cure his paralysis?”
“No.”
“What can you do then? What does he need from you?”
“I don’t know,” Jean said. “To me, his situation is hopeless. All I can feel for him is pity. He’s an old man and his life is over. He’ll probably never walk again. It’s just pathetic.”
“That’s giving him pity," Lorraine said. "What does he really need from you?”
“I can do the basic stuff for him – put in IVs, make sure his monitors are working, feed him…”
“That’s what his body needs. What else does he need?”
“If you’re talking about spiritual stuff, I can call the chaplain for that,” Jean grumbled.
“Yes,” Lorraine replied, “we can call the chaplain. But what can you give him?”
Jean sat and thought. After a few moments, her eyes brightened, “Maybe I could give him hope?” Then her face darkened, “But the truth is, he’s not going to recover.”
“How do you give hope to a patient who won’t recover?” Lorraine asked. “What would you do for this man if he were your father?”
“I would love him – kiss his cheek, hold his hand, tell him I care about him, sit by his side, read to him. But he’s not my father.”
“He’s someone’s father, or brother, or husband, isn’t he?" Lorraine said. "And if he has no family, then he needs you even more. Can you love him in ways you learned to love others you love?”
“I can try,” Jean said.
“And when you do all these things – take care of his body and also love him as a person,” Lorraine said, “you will have given his humanity your humanity. Only then will you be a true nurse.”
Journal of Sacred Work 
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