4 lessons from 4 patients in 1 day

Last week I was working in the eye clinic. Before each patient sees the doctor, we first test the patient's vision, eye pressures and assess if their eyes need to be dilated depending on what's the issue.

This was my time to have a real connection with the patient - 10 minutes of caring for the patient before the doctor sees them - otherwise the rest of the time is either doing paperwork or diagnostic testing. There isn't really an opportunity to talk with them if they are concentrating while their eyes are being scanned.

So with every patient, I take them in the little under-the-stairs-Harry-Potter-styled cupboard, as there is a - to put it lightly - lack of space and we begin the examinations. In this intimate setting, I tend to delve into a bit of personal conversation, never knowing what will come out of their mouth. It usually begins with the question, "Did you grow up here?" or "Where were you born?"

The first patient said he was born in England. He said his mother had him in the house as there was no time to go to the doctors. And within a few months after coming into this new world, WW2 started and their country was being attacked. He said “I’m lucky to be alive today” as he described how planes attacked one side of the Thames River while his family lived on the opposite side.

Out of his kind heart, he then asked me where I was from, in which I replied.

After directing him out into the waiting area for his next eye examination, he said it was lovely to talk to me. It was a delight, first patient of the day and I get to hear something as profound as this.

My lesson here was:

Every person has a story to tell - and I am just glad I was having a very curious day that day.

The second patient I met walked in with a prosthetic leg. I asked the usual questions of where he came from. Then after building a rapport with him, I decided I wanted to know how he lost his leg. I had made the assumption that he initially lost it due to having diabetes, as this was why he was getting his eyes tested. However, he said he lost it in a motorbike accident. “I’m lucky to be alive,” he said.

That’s the second time I heard this, on the same day.

He said it was night and he was riding down a straight road, a car came out of nowhere and hit him. He had his fluorescent gear on to ensure he made it very obvious he was on the road. He shrugged his shoulders out of not knowing how this happened.

I asked if he had ever feared getting back on the motor bike again, as my brother had a little run in on a motorbike with a bus. He didn’t suffer serious injuries but it was enough to caution him into riding a motorbike again.

He said, “No, when you love something, that stuff doesn’t scare you. I’m saving up for a Harley, that will be the last bike I will ever buy.”

“You want to go out with a bang don’t you?” I teased

He grinned and his face which was once serious, beamed.

My lesson here was:

First, never assume, especially in the hospital about certain ailments or disabilities.

Second, when you love something, go for it.

My third patient was a 90 something old man with his wife. He needed a Covid rapid test so I sat with him for 15 minutes awaiting the results. In the next 15 minutes we chatted about various things. Turns out he was a young boy playing outside when he heard the declaration of war in the U.K. He had 6 children in total. Two sets of twins, one pair was fraternal and one pair was identical. Apparently this was very rare. Then his wife told me that one of their children died at 26 years old in a motor vehicle accident.

I shared my condolences and he said he is around and spoke about Jesus. I was glad he had something to believe in to lighten his load.

He then asked what I thought about the cross.

I said this to him “The symbol of the cross is great. I believe in a bit of everything. I have heard of this meaning of the cross and it has stayed with me. That the horizontal line represents the physical timeline, and the vertical line represents ascension. And right where the points meet represents death.

He looked at me for a second. Then he said “Uh, I get that.”

After the Covid test was done, I showed him out into the waiting area ( the Covid test was negative) and we said our goodbyes.

The lesson for me here was:

I hesitated for a second before delving into my own beliefs, especially with regard to religion as it is so personal. However, if I know my beliefs are in line with my values then there should be nothing to be afraid of.

The last patient I had was an elderly woman with hearing aids who was very deaf. I spoke and she said “I am a little deaf.” So I raised my voice. However, I didn’t only raise my voice, I raised my pitch.

The patient said “Your voice is too high, if you lower your pitch I will hear better.” Well that was news to me, so I purposefully lowered my pitch and only spoke what was necessary. Then after the eye testing was over, she hesitated for a few seconds and said “If you lower your pitch and speak short sentences slowly, that is how deaf people can hear the best.” I thanked her and informed her of my gratitude for this golden nugget of information.

My lesson here:

I found this patient to be a teacher of sound, teaching me about pitch, tone and precision.

It seems life is taking me on a nice little journey about sounds.

I recently wrote 2 poems about sounds, listening and hearing. If you are curious they are here and here

My nursing career often supplies me with so much to talk and write about. I am so grateful for the patients that not only teach me a few things but make my job so interesting.