Hold My Hand (Just Another Transfer)…
“Unit 4, come in.”
My partner picks up the radio, accepts the run and puts us enroute.
Just another transfer.
We arrive at the hospital, stop and BS with another crew in the ambulance bay, and begin our trek through the hospital to the elevators. We head up to the floor. The patient’s nurse is no where to be found. We’re provided with paperwork on the patient and head towards his room, promised by the unit clerk that the nurse will be there in a few.
Just another transfer.
The room is quiet, save for an episode of Judge Judy playing on the LCD TV hanging on the wall facing the patient’s bed. There are no balloons, no flowers, no family members. Just our patient. 100 pounds, soaking wet. Sitting on the bed, sucking down oxygen through a nasal cannula with bags under his eyes. Shaking like a leaf.
Just another transfer.
He’s terrified. Having a word like “Hospice” sprung on you when you still have fight left in you… Well, can you imagine? Now imagine going through that alone. While my partner is looking for the nurse I have a few minutes to sit with him and just talk. He has questions. He needs reassurance.
“My name’s Epi, I’m going to be driving while my partner is in back with you.”
“Hi Epi, I’m Fred. I’m sorry I… I just feel a little lost right now….” He wipes his eyes with a tissue from the box sitting next to him.
I smile as I reach for his hand and squeeze it. “We all feel a little lost now and then. We’re going to take great care of you.”
Just another transfer.
I’m working with Tall Dark and Irish, thank God. And he’s got an amazing way with people. He instantly puts him at ease. Between the two of us within a minute or two we have him significantly less shaky.
“Hospice is an wonderful facility.”
“They’ll treat you like royalty!”
“Your biggest problem might be dealing with the nurses constantly fluffing your pillow.”
By the time we were to the truck he was actually smiling.
Just another transfer.
The ride to the inpatient hospice facility was relatively short, just ten minutes or so. It was also unbelievably bumpy. I did my best to stay out of the ruts in the road, but I can only imagine what it felt like to someone who’s body was riddled with cancer. I apologized with every bump I hit. I warned them ahead of time when we were approaching tracks or particularly rough road. I did what I could to make the ride comfortable. I still felt bad that it was uncomfortable for him. When I opened the back doors to the truck once we arrived I apologized yet again.
When we left him with the angels at Hospice, he reached for my hand and squeezed it.
“Thank you, young lady.” He pulled me toward him and kissed me on the cheek. He shook hands with Tall Dark and Irish as well.
“You’re very welcome, Fred. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Just another transfer.
**********
Just another transfer? Really?
Not by a long shot.
Sometimes you don’t need electricity. Sometimes you don’t need drugs or IV’s or splints of any type. Sometimes all that’s needed is a little hand holding.
Comments
Sadly, I think that’s something a lot of less wise medics realize…
When I deal with complaints, it’s almost never because of a particular treatment. It is almost always related to how the the patient is treated (or not) as a *person*.
We could all do with more hand-holding and apologizing for the inevitable bumpy roads.
Exactly. Treatment starts and ends with treating the person. As a person. The medical stuff in between is sort of secondary.
Wow. Well written Epi!
Indeed.
Just a lurker stepping in to let you know I read that with tears in my eyes. Thank you (all of you) for the wonderful way you handle your patients.
Well said, and thanks for holding his hand…
You never know how much of an impact you can have on a patient with a simple smile and holding of the hand. Very well said.
Amen sister! A blanket can sometimes be the most valuable piece of equipment you use on a patient. It’s not all about the drug box.
great post. very well expressed, and hopefully a reminder to us out here that dealing with patients with connection, compassion and humanity goes a long way. thanks.
http://www.MedicInterrupted.blogspot.com
We are lucky, we get a chance to make a difference in someones life every time go to work! How many people can say that? JS
when i was a student doing my BLS in Ontario, my preceptor said the same thing – most people are scared, lost, nervous or just confused… and something most soothing is a caring touch, holding a hand and a good laugh together. Thank goodness for those who can teach me the value of love, care and laughter being the best medicine one can give.
Thanks for sharing this story!