The Kindness of Strangers

My name is Helen and five years ago I was an ITU nurse, routinely managing level three patients. Since then I have moved into a specialist nursing role, where I coordinate living kidney transplants and as such have my own caseload of patients, many of whom I now know on first name terms.

Today, thanks to COVID-19, I’m back on the ITU and I have a confession to make….I’ve forgotten how to take an arterial blood sample. 
How can that be? I must have taken thousands in my time. And yet, I’m standing here syringe in hand, and I’m just not sure. I could have a go I suppose, fiddle and wait until it comes back to me, hope for the best. Or I could ask that friendly looking nurse over there, ‘fess up, potentially look a bit stupid, but keep my patient safe. 

Of course, as soon as Charlotte showed me how to do it, it all came flooding back. There have been many instances like this, and each time I have summoned up the courage, resigned myself to looking a little ridiculous and asked the stupid question.

It’s tough for you. I can remember how challenging it is to be managing a really sick, unstable patient, the ones that need a blood transfusion, blood cultures, observations and medications all at the same time. When in the back of your mind, you know there is a syringe driver due to run out in thirty minutes, but before then you need to turn your patient, suction them, do a blood gas, a twelve lead ECG and think about weaning the vent. It’s because I remember all that so well, that I am sorry I have to ask the stupid questions. 

And yet, remarkably, every time I have asked those potentially stupid questions, I have been greeted with kindness, empathy, and support. It’s made all the difference and now I feel more confident. I’m happy to cover breaks, organise turns and assist with intubation. It didn’t take long, but it did take the patience and understanding of colleagues I’d never met before. Never met and as I have experienced, potentially unlikely to meet again. We pass in the corridor and do a double take. Several times, I’ve looked at someone and felt a sense of familiarity but without the confidence to ask who they are. 

For while I am hugely grateful for our PPE, offering protection, I’m also aware it prevents us from seeing the person underneath. So, if I pass you in the corridor and the top half of my face looks familiar and you think I’m staring at you in a peculiar manner, don’t be alarmed. 

I’m just wondering if you are the ITU Sister who helped me get into the staff room at 0200 one night, it was my third shift in a different part of the hospital – I had no idea what the code was.

Or if you are the nurse from Portugal who in a rare quiet moment treated me to a detailed explanation of what to see and do in Porto and Lisbon. 
Or if you are the one who offered me some support as my tears fell for one of the transplant patients I’ve temporarily left behind. 

If you are one of those ITU nurses, thank you, because I might not quite recognise you again.