Just Be Present by Kristy Pelletier
This is my second Americorps service contract since I have been in nursing school at MSU. I have had the privilege of participating in many great stories, and hopefully helping many people along the way. During this semester, my last in nursing school, I had the opportunity to work with a family receiving hospice services. My job was to provide support, make service referrals, and encourage family wellness and coping during the decline of their sweet loved one. Nurses like to “do” things. We provide medical therapy, give medications, start IVs, assess systems and vital signs, care for wounds. We feel effective when we are doing. This job, however, required no medical intervention. It called solely for me to use myself as a therapeutic presence; to use myself as a tool and leave the stethoscope at home. In short, it required me to “be rather than do”. I wondered if I really had anything to offer this family whose patriarch was wasting before their eyes from cancer. Would I even know what to say?
After my second visit, I began to relax into my new role. I found that I did indeed have something to offer them. I couldn’t take away his pain or her fear, but I could be present and listen. I could remind my client’s wife to engage in self-care or ask for help when she felt overwhelmed with tasks and grief. I could be a catalyst. I helped them engage in difficult but necessary conversations, helped them plan, reminded them that reaching out to others was an act of self-compassion. I sat, patted hands, listened, even made a few jokes. I told them that I felt honored to be able to serve them. Toward the end, my client felt more pain from cancer, but also more peace and conviction that his had been a life well-lived. His wife regularly engaged in self-care between caring for her husband at home full-time. They had gathered around them people and resources to support them through his death. They were sad, but ready. As with most situations in teaching and leadership, you end up learning much more than you teach. From this brave, kind family, I learned that simple human presence IS medicine. It is difficult to be present with people in the face of pain, grief, and uncertainty. It requires bravery and patience. But presence is the strand that weaves us together in our common humanity. Because we really are all in this together.
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