IN HOSPITAL.
Certainly nursing is very far superior, now-a-days, to what it was in
the _régime_ of the untrained Sairey Gamp confraternity; but while
gladly recognising that fact, I am inclined to think that there is
still some room for improvement. For one thing, I doubt whether any
particular care is taken to impress upon nurses the important fact
that no two human beings are exactly the same; and that people's
characteristic peculiarities are never in greater need of being
studied and humoured, than when pain and sickness have weakened the
will and rendered the nerves unwontedly sensitive and irritable. If
this were insisted upon as it might be in the training of nurses, I
do not imagine it would be as common as it is to find them performing
their duties mechanically, and apparently regarding patients as
machines to be wound up, regulated, and treated according to fixed
principles applying to all alike, instead of as living men and women,
possessing widely-differing peculiarities of both mind and body. I
think that one or two of my own experiences whilst at the hospital
will show that there is some reason for this criticism.
The prolonged thirst from which I had suffered, and the exertion
involved in my endeavour to relieve it, fatigued me greatly in
my enfeebled condition. Then came the mental wear and tear of
terror which I underwent during Nurse Mary's alarmingly vigorous
bedclothes-straightening process; and thus, what with one thing and
another, by the time she left me to myself again I felt completely
worn out, and anxious for nothing so much as sleep. In vain, however,
did I try to compose myself to slumber. I was feverish; I ached all
over; and, turn which way I would, I could get no ease. Each new
position that I tried seemed more uncomfortable than the last; and
though the cradle in which my broken leg was fixed prevented me
from moving far, yet within the narrow space to which I was thus
restricted, I kept shifting my place, and twisting to and fro
incessantly.
Of course this restlessness was by no means conducive to my welfare;
and when the doctor visited me in the morning he pronounced me to be
in a very exhausted state, and said I was to have nourishment and
stimulants every two hours.
I cannot say that I took kindly to the idea of being stuffed like
this; for I was so far from being hungry that my gorge rose at the
mere thought of food. And when the nurse who had succeeded Nurse Mary
in charge of the ward came up to me with a cup of broth in her hand,
I had about the same amount of inclination for it that fair Rosamond
may be supposed to have had for the potion presented to her by Queen
Eleanor.
But I had fully made up my mind to get well as soon as possible, and
had the sense to know that I certainly could not recover without
eating, so I struggled to overcome the internal rising of which I was
conscious. Perhaps, too, the broth would tempt my appetite, so that
after I had got down a mouthful or so, I should find the aversion to
food pass away, and be able to go on eating easily. And thus resolved
to do my best to obey the doctor's orders, I took a sip out of the
cup.
But the first taste was a shock to me. It was not in the least like
what I expected, somehow, though I was not just then clear-headed
enough to discover immediately what was wrong with it. I did not
believe it was broth at all; at all events, if it was, it was the
nastiest that I had ever tasted in my life. I could hardly swallow
even the small quantity I had taken; and as for getting down any more
of it--pah! the thing was impossible. My loathing for food became
more violent than ever, and I pushed away the cup feebly, saying:
"Take the nasty stuff away! I _can't_ eat it; and it'll only make me
sick to try."
"Nasty indeed!" returned the nurse; "why, what better would you have
than beautiful chicking-broth like this? You can drink it well enough
if you like; it's only your fancy as you can't."
"I don't think it beautiful at all," replied I; "indeed, indeed, it's
nasty. Do pray let me alone; perhaps I shall be hungrier by and by."
"Rubbish!" she answered, again advancing the cup towards me; "its the
doctor's orders for you to be fed, and fed you shall be--even if I
have to drench you. Come now; down with it!"
At this moment, when I was ruefully contemplating the broth and
wondering if it would be anyhow possible for me to gulp it down, the
Sister whom I had seen in the night came into the room. She was
general superintendent of the nursing all through the hospital, and
had a keen eye for anything amiss. My unhappy look at once attracted
her attention, and she came to us and asked the nurse what she was
giving me.
"Chicking broth, with a tablespoon of whisky in it, Sister,"
responded the woman; "that's what the doctor ordered for her. But
she's making as much fuss as if it was--I don't know what, and
declaring as it'll make her sick."
"I can quite understand your objecting to eat," said the Sister,
addressing me gently; "people so often do when they're ill. But it's
the beginning is the great difficulty with them, and after that they
generally get on much better; I daresay you'll find it so if you try.
Or is broth a thing to which you have any special dislike? and do you
think you would fancy some other kind of food more?"
"No; I like broth well enough in general," answered I, "and I _have_
tried to eat what the nurse brought me. But I couldn't, indeed--it is
too nasty."
"Well, suppose I see if _I_ can find anything the matter with it,"
she said, taking the cup from the nurse. "Why! did you ask to have it
cold?"
"No," replied I.
"Did the doctor say it was to be given cold?" she inquired, turning
to the nurse.
"He didn't say nothing one way or other," answered the latter; "and
as I had a jugful cold, ready by me, I just took and poured some into
the cup to give as it was--not thinking as it mattered."
"Oh, but it does matter, very much," returned the Sister; "broth is
far nicer hot than cold. Go and warm this, and then see if the
patient doesn't find it easier to get down. And don't forget in
future that broth should always be given hot, unless there are
special orders to the contrary."
Now surely the woman might have known that of herself, if she had
taken the trouble to think for a moment, and might have perceived
that cold chicken broth, with whisky in it, was a thing that no
ordinary human palate could be expected to relish. But no; the doctor
had not specified it was to be hot; she had some cold to hand; the
question of trying to make it palatable never entered her head; and
therefore, though the warming would have been but very little
trouble, she just brought it me as it was. In that condition I doubt
whether I could possibly have eaten it; when warmed, however, I was
able to get through the requisite portion--though even then not
without considerable difficulty, in consequence of my aversion to
food of any kind.
Thus a second time was the conviction forced upon me that the
existence in the world of Sisters might perhaps not be so altogether
devoid of utility as I had previously imagined.
I daresay the food did me good; but yet it did not procure me the
rest for which I craved, and I had to endure hours more of miserable
tossing about before my weary body at last hit upon the posture which
would best accommodate its numerous aches and bruises. With a sigh of
satisfaction I gave myself up to repose, intending not to stir hand
or foot as long as I remained comfortable, lest, if I once lost the
position which had been so hard to find, I might not again succeed in
discovering it. Soon a delicious sense of drowsiness stole over me,
and I was on the point of falling sound asleep, when I was aroused by
the voice of a nurse, telling me it was time to feed again. If my
repugnance to eating had made all the previous feeding-times during
the day objectionable to me, it may be imagined that the present
summons was doubly odious, coming at the very moment when I could not
bear the idea of stirring so much as a hair's-breadth from where I
lay, and would have given the world to be left in peace. Dismayed
at the prospect of immediate movement, and loath to be parted from
the long-sought rest which I had at length attained, I appealed
for a reprieve--however brief. I was so _very_ tired of being
uncomfortable, I said. I had had such a weary tossing about all night
and all day till now. And now that I had at last found some comfort,
might not I stay as I was for just five minutes more?
But the nurse would not hear of such a thing. The doctor's orders,
she said, were for me to have food every two hours. The last time had
been at 1.25--there it was marked on the slate by the bed--and now it
was 3.25. Her business was to obey the doctor's orders exactly; and I
must just take what she had brought me that instant, and make no more
fuss about it.
So my appeal was disregarded, and I was, then and there, ruthlessly
routed up to be fed. And as my nervous system was by no means robust
enough at that moment to bear the shock of any abrupt disturbance, I
immediately afterwards relapsed into the same state of miserable,
feverish restlessness as before.
Now, though it seems unreasonable to blame any one for strict
obedience to orders, yet I think in a case like this the woman might
well have departed from them so far as to grant the five minutes
delay for which I pleaded. It would have softened the blow to have
time to make up my mind gradually to the moving which I dreaded; and
I think her own sense might have told her that I was in a condition
when rest was essential, and when everything unpleasant should be
smoothed over to me as much as possible. But though she was not
wilfully harsh or unkind, yet the advisability of making small
concessions to an invalid's weakness--fancifulness, as _she_ called
it--never entered her head. All she thought of was that she was there
to carry out the doctor's orders, and that provided they were obeyed
to the letter, come what might, she would have nothing to reproach
herself with. As for the idea of there being any special necessity
for a nurse to be quick in reading, understanding, and making
allowances for the fancies, infirmities, and idiosyncrasies of human
nature, because she is professionally brought into constant contact
with it when in its greatest need of sympathy--why, I do not suppose
such a notion had ever occurred to her. But might it not have formed
a part of her professional education?
I hope that my criticisms will not be misunderstood. If I venture to
point out defects which seem to me remediable, it does not therefore
follow that I fail to do justice to the enormous benefits which we
derive from trained nurses. On the contrary, when I look back upon my
sojourn at the hospital, I feel grateful for and astonished at the
punctilious care and attention which was shown towards a mere
friendless, helpless, unknown nobody such as I was, from whom no
return could be expected. It may be that I have known nurses act
hastily under provocation; that I think them apt to be hard, because
too mechanical; and that I doubt whether they always bring their
brains to bear as much as might be on the performance of their duty.
But none the less do I believe that they are, as a body, a thoroughly
conscientious, well-meaning, and valuable set of women; and that a
nurse who behaves with deliberate cruelty, or wantonly neglects a
patient, is hardly ever to be met with.
In speaking well, however, of the hospital attendants and the
treatment I received from them, I must except Nurse Mary. She was a
careless, good-for-nothing nurse, unfit for her post, constantly
asleep on duty, bad tempered to the patients, and quite regardless of
truth in what she said. I was unfortunate enough to be an especial
object of her animosity, because she had been reprimanded and fined
for her neglect of me and false excuses on the night when I had first
become acquainted with her. As it had been on account of me that she
had got into hot water, she took a dislike to me then and there,
and took advantage of our relative positions to make me feel her
displeasure. A nurse has plenty of opportunities for thwarting,
bullying, and inflicting small miseries on a patient; and Nurse Mary
always availed herself of these opportunities as freely as she dared.
Whatever she had to do for me was sure to be done as roughly and
disagreeably as possible, and I looked forward with dread to the
periods when the ward I inhabited was under her charge.
Unluckily for me, it was on one of these occasions that it fell to my
lot to have to take a dose of castor oil. Now, that is a physic to
which I have always had an intense antipathy. The mere smell of it
makes me feel qualmy, even at the best of times; and it stood to
reason that I should dislike it ten times more when my stomach was in
an unusually squeamish condition, so that I found it difficult to eat
even food that I liked. Hence I looked forward to the impending dose
with much trepidation, and reflected anxiously on the probability of
my being unable to keep down the nauseous stuff, even when swallowed.
It would evidently be a help to avoid having the nasty smell
beforehand if possible, as I knew that would make me feel poorly to
start with; so I asked Nurse Mary if she would mind pouring out the
oil at some distance off and not bringing it to my bedside till all
ready to be taken.
She refused roughly, saying she had no time to be bothered with all
kinds of fads and whims like that; and, instead of trying to spare me
any preliminary unpleasantness, she measured out the dose quite close
to my nose, so as to give me a full benefit of the odour. It seemed
to me, too, that she was purposely slow in her proceedings, and kept
the bottle uncorked for a most needless length of time--but that may
possibly have only been my excited fancy.
The oil having been poured into a glass with water in it, I was sat
up in bed, the glass was put into my hands, and I raised it towards
my mouth. Being already qualmy from the effect of the smell, and
very nervous lest I should be actually sick, I was altogether in an
unsteady condition; and just before the glass had touched my lips, an
involuntary convulsive shiver of disgust that came over me made me
for the moment unable to control my muscles. My shaky hand lost its
grasp of the glass, which toppled over, and spilled all the contents
over me and the bed.
The nurse was as indignant at this catastrophe as if I had done it
on purpose. She had not the least pity for the horrible plight I was
in, nor did it seem to occur to her how improbable it was for any
human being to bring him or herself into such a state willingly.
"Troublesome, mischievous, awkward, careless, stupid," were the
kindest and least offensive words she uttered whilst preparing a
fresh jorum of oil. As for me, I simply endured existence in silent
misery as best I could whilst the second dose was being got ready.
All I wanted was to take that, and get it over as quickly as
possible, so that everything which the filthy oil had contaminated
might be removed, and I might be washed, and made sweet, dry, and
comfortable again.
When the draught was presented to me, I made a heroic effort, flung
it down my throat, and returned the empty glass, murmuring faintly:
"Oh please, _do_ make haste to rid me of all this mess!" But what was
my dismay to find that she had no intention of doing anything of the
kind! Since I had chosen to spill the oil, she said, I might just
stop in it and see how I liked it; and perhaps that would teach
me not to play tricks of that kind again. What? fetch a clean
night-dress and sheet, and a sponge to wipe my face and chest! Not
she, indeed! She had plenty of other work to do without extras of
that kind; and she had not time to stop worritting with me any
longer--I had delayed her quite long enough, as it was. So saying,
she coolly walked away, and left me helpless in a sort of castor-oil
purgatory.
My misery may be imagined. The cold, clammy, wet linen chilled me;
every movement risked bringing me in fresh contact with the loathsome
stuff, which I could not touch without a shudder; and the surrounding
air was impregnated with its abominable smell. I would have done
anything to escape; and if my leg had not been fixed in the cradle, I
believe I should have rolled out of bed on to the floor, and as far
away as I could go from the hateful spot. But I was powerless to do
that, or to lessen my wretchedness by any other means; for I was not
strong enough even to pull off my night-dress unaided, nor yet to
fold back the wet part of the sheet, and shove it away to the far end
of the bed.
Nor was this all I had to suffer; for the smell made my qualminess
increase every minute, and I foresaw with dismay that being sick
would probably involve a repetition of the dose.
Oh, why could not I escape from this abominable odour? and could I
anyhow manage to avoid the consequences with which it threatened me?
I remembered having heard it said that sickness may sometimes be
checked by a strong effort of will. Let me see if mine would help me
in this emergency. I told myself resolutely that the unpleasant
sensations which I felt were purely imaginary, and that I need not
give way to them unless I chose. And then I tried to turn my mind to
various agreeable and interesting subjects, such as Kitty; Mrs.
Torwood's dogs; my plan for being revenged on my stepmother, and how
I would complete it as soon as I was well again;--anything under the
sun to take my thoughts off from this beastly oil! But it was no use.
The qualmy sensation forced itself to the front in spite of all I
could do; I felt that the dreaded climax was a mere matter of time,
and lay awaiting it in terror with my eyes shut. Suddenly I heard
some one say: "What a smell of castor oil! Where does it come from?"
The speaker's nose naturally answered this question, and on opening
my eyes I saw the good Sister approaching me. This sight gave me a
ray of hope that I might still be saved, and she seemed to me to be a
very guardian angel. Never would I have believed that the quaint
dress which I had often laughed at and considered ugly, obtrusive,
and absurd, could have appeared to my eyes so lovely and acceptable
as it did at that moment!
She perceived at a glance that the case was urgent, and went to work
to relieve me without an instant's delay. Instead of stopping to ask
questions (which would have been a needless prolongation of my
sufferings) as to how I came to be in such an oily plight, she
immediately despatched the nurse to fetch clean things, and herself
brought some strong aromatic vinegar and held it to my nose. This
neutralised the smell of the oil, revived me, and enabled me to
conquer the feeling of nausea. Her timely aid averted the catastrophe
I had been dreading, and in a wonderfully short space I enjoyed the
felicity of feeling myself purified, and restored to a dry, sweet,
and comfortable condition. Not till this had been accomplished did
she seem to think of anything else. But then she proceeded to
inquire how I had come to be in the state in which she had found me,
and to take the nurse to task for having left me so.
The delinquent tried to excuse herself by saying that she had been
so exceedingly busy that she had had no choice about leaving me to go
and attend to some one else. Besides that, she added spitefully, the
accident had been all my own doing, for I had deliberately upset the
glass out of mischief.
I was commencing an indignant denial of this falsehood when the
Sister interrupted me. She said it was quite immaterial whether the
glass had been overturned by accident or not, as there were no
circumstances which could justify a nurse for letting a patient
remain an instant longer than could be helped in such a state as I
had been in--all in a mess, and in wet things that might cause a
chill. The alleged press of business was no excuse either; for all
the nurses knew perfectly well that they were to ask for assistance
if they had too much to do, but were on no account to neglect a
patient. She was extremely displeased at Nurse Mary's conduct, and
proceeded to rebuke her sharply.
Considering the barbarity with which that nurse had just been
behaving to me, it will not be wondered at that to hear her being
scolded gave me a sensation of acute satisfaction.
But my gratification was speedily diminished as I recollected that
she would probably object to me more than ever, now that I had again
been the unlucky means of getting her into a scrape. I was filled
with alarm at the idea. If she had bullied me hitherto, what was she
likely to do in the future? And what chance had I of defending
myself from her malice? I would confide my troubles to the Sister who
had already befriended me so often, and ask her to take care of me, I
thought. Only I must mind not to let the nurse suspect that I was
complaining of her, or she would be still angrier than before with
me. I would wait till her turn of duty was over, and some other nurse
had taken her place.
After the next change of nurses, therefore, I watched anxiously for
the Sister to appear in our ward. At last she arrived there, and I
made signs to her to come to my bedside. Then, whispering in a very
low voice, so that no one else should hear and report what I said to
my enemy, I begged her to protect me from Nurse Mary, who hated me,
and treated me so badly that I was afraid of her.
"In what way, and on what occasions, have you been treated badly?"
asked the Sister.
It was a most natural question to ask, but it was one that I was
puzzled to answer satisfactorily. Though perfectly convinced that I
needed to be defended, yet when I began recalling to mind (in order
to tell the Sister) the numerous trifling persecutions to which I
had been subjected, I found it was by no means easy to discover any
grievance that seemed important and tangible enough to take hold of
and bring forward in support of my assertions, except the recent
castor oil affair, and that she knew of already. I could not
recollect anything else that seemed worth erecting into a formal
accusation, so I only answered that I could not think of any
particular case to mention just then, but that indeed what I had said
was true, that the nurse was unkind to me always, and that I was
afraid to see her come near me.
"Oh, if that is all," replied the Sister kindly, "I should hope your
fears have no real foundation; probably you have taken into your head
one of those prejudices that people are very apt to have when they
are ill; you must try and get over it, instead of indulging it. But,
in any case, you may be sure that I am looking after you, and will
see that no one hurts you, so don't alarm yourself about it."
Though she spoke cheerfully and pleasantly, yet still I did not
consider my complaint had met with a very encouraging reception; and
I was desperately afraid that what I had said would be altogether
forgotten, and I should be no better off than before. But she was a
person who never turned a deaf ear to any cry for help; and I soon
saw that my appeal had not passed unheeded, and that--whether
she believed me to be mistaken or not--from that time forth her
protecting wing overshadowed me with especial closeness (yet not so
ostensibly as to make the fact generally conspicuous) when my enemy
was in command of the ward. Not only did the Sister take to coming in
and out with extra frequency at these times, but I could perceive
also that I was then sure to receive a larger share of her attention
than I did on other occasions. And as this kindly, unobtrusive,
vigilance made it impossible for me to be made to suffer seriously
without her discovering it, my peace of mind was gradually restored.
Thus, thanks to the restraining presence of the Sister, Nurse Mary
could not make me as miserable as she would evidently have liked to
do; but I know very well that I should have been sadly at her mercy
if the Sister had _not_ been there to look after me, for to appeal to
the doctor would almost certainly have been worse than useless. I
have known people rash enough to do that when they were dissatisfied
with their nurses, and the result of their appeals was invariably the
same. That is to say, the patient was pooh-poohed with more or less
politeness, according to the disposition of the doctor; no attempt
was made to investigate the truth of the complaint, and things went
on exactly as before, except that the nurses certainly did not
increase in amiability towards the individuals who had presumed to
find fault with them.
I must say, I think it would be in the interests of the sick, if, in
both private and public cases, the doctors would beware of the blind
confidence which they, as a rule, are inclined to repose in nurses.
My experience is, that if a patient complains of his nurse to the
doctor for neglect, roughness, or any other fault, she is apt either
to relate what took place so as make it appear that she could not
possibly have acted otherwise than she did; or else to deny the
charge absolutely; or else to say, with affected compassion, that the
poor fellow sometimes wanders in his mind and does not know things
rightly, so that it is useless to think of attending to all he says.
And the doctor invariably accepts her version as the true one, and
takes it for granted that she is all right, and there is no necessity
for his interference.
That a doctor should trust much to a nurse is only natural, seeing
that there are cases in illness where as much depends upon her as
upon him--perhaps even more. But her importance does not make her
infallible; and though it is all very well to have confidence in her,
yet it is carrying confidence to excess to make it a rule _always_ to
think her word better than that of her patient. If a sick person's
account of his symptoms differed materially from that given by the
nurse, I suppose the doctor would hardly think it wise totally to
ignore what had been told him by the former, and to act solely upon
the information received from the latter. And ought not the same rule
to apply to other statements also?