Sick Nurse: Tales of Illness and Loathing

Over the past 8 days I have been physically ravaged, emotionally exhausted and ultimately brought to my knees with humility. Based on my symptoms, I gather that I had a lovely little something called 'the flu'.

The words 'flu' and 'sick' get thrown around like light, buoyant balloons of mere misfortune. Everyone's sick. I've heard countless times throughout the winter, "I had the flu last week"... or, "The flu hit our house pretty hard this month". And my consistent, half hearted sentiments always sound something like, "Oh, that's too bad", and, "I hope you're feeling better."

Given that I work as a nurse I'm sure the 'gold standard' illusion of this profession is that we must all be angel earthlings with invisible wings and immeasurable patience. The truth, sadly, is that due to the extreme cases of disease and sickness we've witnessed in our career our compassion towards the minor ailments of others is much like a dried up well; false in all it's appearances of being a plentiful source of love and sympathy. Unlike an empty well that no longer contains life sustaining water, nurses lack a posted sign saying, "Out of Order".

When the shoe is placed on the other foot however, my do things change quickly.

My course of sickness lead me into an ultimately debilitating state much like that of an infant. I was completely helpless, weak, feeble, lonely, and isolated. The simple act of turning over in bed demanded first a clear plan of action and culminated in the total usage of all my physical power and mental prowess. The exhausting act of 'speaking' caused major shortness of breath. I longed to just listen to someone talk to me although my ability to converse back was impossible. I felt alone in my sickness but worse, due to my lack of strength to maintain light conversation, I bore the misery of illustrating the perfect image of 'insufferable company'.

Lifting my hand to take a drink from a glass of water might as well have been the equivalent to lifting a twenty pound boulder. I actually had to put off washing my hair because I feared the energy required to do so would result in my imminent and untimely death.

I spent hours and hours laying awake. My body was completely exhausted but rarely was I able to find sleep. I would watch the sky lighten in the morning only to see it start to fade away in the afternoon; then it was darkness again and the gloomy cycle would begin all over. Long minutes and eternal hours spent all in my head. A dangerous place to be trapped indeed.

Mentally I felt quite sharp. Even in my comatose state my thoughts were racing. To keep myself occupied I would think of ideas and plans for the future, and dream of all the things I would do when I felt healthy again; "I'll clean this whole house, and work out more, and eat better, and take the dogs for longer walks, and get the wedding invitations done, write blogs, get organized and finally take down the Christmas tree... etc.".

Luckily for myself, my fiancé was there to help me as a loyal source of comfort and assistance. He would get me drinks and medication, run hot baths, and venture out into the winter nights to replenish my stock of chicken soup and potato chips. I was in awe of his strength and ability to accomplish all of these tasks that appeared so physically rigorous and exhausting to me. He was my rescuer and hero.

The beauty of being sick is that the individual comes away with a new appreciation of what it means to be healthy. It really is everything. "If you haven't got your health you haven't got anything" is such an old and tired cliché but after being severely ill, you come to a whole new level of gratitude for these words.

Along with that new found respect also come a new found compassion for others who are sick. As a nurse who is surrounded by sick people everyday, the true meaning of 'being ill' eludes and escapes us. We forget what it feels like to be the person in severe need. We forget how humiliating it is when you are unable to do anything for yourself and end up in the constant reliance of others. I felt ashamed. Given that I am a nurse, who at times has a very dry well, I felt loathed at the thought of myself being so weak and 'needy'. My own built up apathy and callousness towards 'minor ailments' were now all directed onto myself. And what happened next is called Humility.

If being sick should serve no other purpose, it is at the very least an eye-opening and devastatingly harsh lesson in humility and compassion. And for that, I am thankful.




Cheers,
Bootsy