I’m Not Just a Hand

Dear Nurse at Netcare Blaauwberg Hospital,

No, not you, very kind and talkative Nurse Malinga, the Zulu nurse who asked me where I’m from and apologised profusely for not being able to get the cannula in for my drip. Not you who was ignored by the Hand Nurse when you asked if it was time to handover so you could go home long after most night shift nurses had left. I mean you, Hand Nurse.

Just a few days before my hospital trip this past Friday morning I’d been singing the praises of nurses because of how wonderful the nurses at Intercare had been when my 17 year old daughter needed a drip. I regretted being so effusive when you didn’t make eye contact with your colleague nor animate anything she said.. and not with me, your patient. I felt so embarrassed for her. Why didn’t you say anything as she handed over, giving you all my information and asking if she may be dismissed?

You just came in, looked for a vein on the side of my hand and got that needle in. No greeting, evens guard had ambled over to me when I parked, coming from far away to ask if I needed a wheelchair yet no greeting from you. No mention of how you wish you didn’t need to use my arm, no words at all. You just took my hand like it’s a piece of furniture and did what you had to do.

You did everything you had to do. Without ever looking at me. You didn’t even look at me when you brought me the extra blanket when I was oh so cold and miserable. I was so shocked that I was unable to ask you to change the position of the bed. I was miserable. So miserable that the only thing that kept the final drip in my hand was the knowledge that I needed it and if I left, I’d be in trouble. I wanted to die. That was the only the second time I’ve ever spent time in a hospital wanting to die, and the first time, the nurses were wonderful. They smiled, asked how to make me comfortable…

I offered you-mentally, because we never spoke-grace. Perhaps you felt ill but needed to come in and see how the illness progressed because you needed the money. You did keep coughing after all, making new feet I’d leave the hospital with a killer respiratory infection. Perhaps your cat was sick. I made up reasons why you didn’t see me, you saw my hand.

I hope today you don’t have any reason not to see the patient lying in the bed in misery. All alone.

Sincerely,

The patient who still thanked you anyway for caring for her even though she didn’t feel cared for, just treated as a duty.