Favourite moment on a general ward

I really wasn’t looking forward to this placement because, not only did I dislike the area or the hospital, it was also a general male ward and generally where you get all men, you get burps, farts, snot and phlegm, in no particular order. The first time I was asked to collect mucus made me gag at the thought but holding a sputum cup of sticky green bodily fluid had me dry-retching and reaching for the ladies. I dreaded the day I had to hold male poo samples.

An lovely elderly chap called Derek, who had prostate cancer along with other age-related ailments, used to smile and wink at me when he saw my disgust and I realised it wasn’t very professional walking around with my face screwed up and my nose in the air.  He used to love telling me stories about his life during the war and how, once home with his lovely young wife, they’d never spent a day apart. He also told me that his wife was on another ward down the corridor and he missed her terribly. I’m no Linda Carter but before she went off shift that day, Wonder Woman, despite groans from other nursing staff, managed to get Doris’ bed wheeled right next to Derek’s for the afternoon. I got to see why they never spent time apart; holding hands, whispering and giggling like teenagers and dipping custard creams into each others tea.

The next morning I asked a male nurse where Derek was and, with a nod  eyes rolling upward, he said: “He’s gone upstairs.” When I asked why he replied flatly: “He’s dead!” I stopped by the ladies to dry my eyes before looking in on Doris and her family to pass on my condolences. When I heard the laughter, I wasn’t sure I was at the right curtains but Doris could see my shiny shoes and she called me in to introduce me to her family. They wanted to thank me for the humanity shown the previous day and told me how much it had meant to both parents; they’d had their final chuckles and they were both at peace in their own way now.

Most patients love good students on the ward because they’re the only ones who sometimes have time to stop and chat, to ask patients about their needs and wants. While poor nurses are run ragged doing medication and ward rounds, writing notes, and updating no end of needless care plans while phones are ringing and everyone wants a piece of them.

Note to self: “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”

Author: mentalhealthfromtheotherside.wordpress.com

Mum to two amazing sons. Following recovery from a lengthy psychotic episode, depression, anxiety and Anorexia, I decide to train as a Mental Health Nurse and worked successfully in various settings before becoming a Ward Manager. I am a Mental Health First Aid Instructor and a Mental Health Awareness Trainer, Mental Health First Aid Youth and Mental Health Armed Forces Instructor. Just started my mental health from the other side blog.

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