THE FAMILY INVALID.
One of the most anomalous of the inconsistencies peculiar to human
nature is that we who are flesh, and consequently liable to all the
ills to which flesh is heir, should know so little about the manner in
which to check or, at least, alleviate these miseries. In the average
household the proper care of the sick is an unknown art, or one so
little understood that illness would seem to be an impossible
contingency.
The chamber of illness is at best a sadly uncomfortable place, and it
is the duty of the nurse, be she a hireling or the nearest and dearest
of kin to the prostrate inhabitant thereof, to be cognizant of the
methods of tending and easing the unfortunate being during the trying
period of his enforced idleness. Only those who have been confined to
a sick couch can appreciate its many trying features. The looker-on
sees a man or woman uncomfortable or in pain, lying in an easy bed,
"the best place for sick folk," with nothing to trouble him beyond the
bodily malease which holds him there. He is merely laid aside for
repairs, and, if the observer be somewhat wearied and overworked, he
is conscious of a pang of envy. But he does not think of the sleepless
nights through which the monotonous ticking of the clock is varied
only by the striking of the hours, each one of them seeming double its
actual length; or of the aching head and limbs; the feverish
restlessness which makes repose an impossibility; or--most trying of
all--the dumb nausea and loathing of the food, which, as one poor
woman complained of meals partaken in bed, "tastes of the mattress and
covers!"
The member of the family who is laid low by illness should receive the
first consideration of the entire household. Intelligent care and
nursing will be of more benefit than medicines. An old poem, written
over two hundred and fifty years ago, struck the right chord when it
advised:
"Use three physicians: First, Dr. Quiet,
Then Dr. Merryman, and Dr. Diet."
Noise and disturbance of whatever description must be an unknown
quantity in a sick room. There "Dr. Quiet" should hold undisputed and
peaceful sway. Felt or soft kid slippers, devoid of any offensive
squeak, should be worn, and loud tones and exclamations prohibited. On
the other hand, do not whisper to any person who chances to be in the
room. Whispering arouses the patient's curiosity and suspicions, and,
if he be asleep, the sibilant sound will pierce his slumbers and
awaken him. Let all remarks be made in a low-pitched undertone. Never,
even at the risk of causing offence, allow discussion of any subject
to occur in the presence of the invalid. You may imagine that he does
not mind it, that his mind will be diverted; but the argument ended,
there may be noticed a flush on the cheek and a rapidity of breathing
that bodes ill. One admirable physician makes it a rule never to
permit political or religious topics to be canvassed in the hearing
of one of his "cases," as a wide experience has taught him that such
matters cannot be talked of without causing some degree of excitement,
and thus retarding the patient's progress on the road toward health.
For the same reason, try, by every effort, to keep your charge from
thinking of work which should be done, and of any possible
inconvenience he may be causing. There never was, and never will be, a
convenient time for a person to be ill, so, whenever it comes, resolve
to make the best of it. There is no greater cruelty than that of
allowing a sick person to imagine that, but for his ill-timed
indisposition, you might be able to go here or there, or to do this or
that. Under such an idea the couch becomes a bed of clipped
horse-hairs to the helpless sufferer, and he feels himself to be a
useless hulk. This unkindness is oftentimes unintentional, and due
more to thoughtlessness than to deliberate hard-heartedness. To avoid
causing such discomfort do not look worried or distracted while
ministering to your patient's wants, and do not fussily "fly around"
in straightening and setting the room to rights. Let everything be
done decently and in order, rapidly and quietly.
Another desideratum of the chamber of illness is _cleanliness_ in the
minutest particular. When the disease permits it, the sick person
should be sponged all over daily, the teeth cleansed and the hair
brushed. Wash the face and hands often during the day, as this process
rests and refreshes.
The same gown should not be worn day and night, and the sheets must be
changed frequently. If practicable, place a lounge at the side of the
bed and lift or roll the patient off upon that, and turn mattresses
and beat up pillows before re-making the bed. If this cannot be done
with safety, the sheets may be removed, and others adjusted, simply by
moving the invalid from one side to the other of the bed, rolling up
the soiled sheet closely to the body, and spreading on the clean one
in its place. Then the patient may be moved back to his original
place, and the fresh sheet spread on the other side of the couch.
Air the room often, covering the patient warmly for a moment while you
let in a sluice of ozone. Do not allow the chamber to become
overheated, or to grow so cold as to chill the hands and face. The
sick person may wear over the shoulders a flannel "nightingale" or
jacket, to leave the arms at liberty.
In preparing the tray of food, let everything be as dainty as
possible. Use for this purpose your choicest china and whitest linen.
One important rule with regard to food is, Give a very little at a
time, and avoid vulgar abundance. The sight of the loaded plate will
discourage a weak appetite, and the delicate stomach will revolt at
the suggestion of accepting such a mass. A small bird, a neatly
trimmed French chop, a bit of tenderloin steak, or tender broiled
chicken, will be eaten, when, if two chops or half a steak were
offered, not a mouthful would be swallowed. To the well and strong
this may seem like folly, but let us, in our strength, pity and humor
the weaknesses of those upon whom God has laid suffering. It takes all
the ingenuity and tact which love can muster to make a sick-room
tolerable, and food anything but distasteful.
A poor consumptive girl had fancied that she could eat a few raw
oysters, and the physician cheerfully prescribed them. At his next
visit he was met by the mother, who informed him with dismay that her
daughter would not touch the delicacy--"her stomach turned against it
the instant the dish was brought in."
"How many did you let her see?" he asked.
"Two dozen!"
"Which would have daunted a well man, madam!" said the wise man. "Give
her _one_ at a time--cold and crisp, upon your best china plate, and
tell her that is all she can have for at least an hour. Make her
think that her appetite is under restraint. This is in itself a
stimulant."
The hint is valuable.
In administering medicine, be careful to follow the physician's
directions as to quantity and time of taking. Do not prepare the dose
in the presence of the patient, as it may make him exceedingly nervous
to watch the dropping or pouring of the drug; and after it has been
swallowed, put bottle and spoon out of sight.
In too many families there exists sinful ignorance as to what should
be done in case of illness before the doctor arrives. If a child comes
in from play, hoarse and feverish, with nausea and pain in the head,
he is often allowed to sit or lie about the house until the
disagreeable symptoms become so pronounced as to cause alarm, and the
physician is summoned. The sufferer should have his feet soaked in hot
water, be put to bed, and some anti-febrine like aconite administered
until a slight perspiration is induced. Aconite is such deadly poison
that the mother must be sure she knows just in what quantity to give
it. The dose for a child from three to six years of age is half a drop
in a teaspoonful of water, every hour until the feverishness
disappears. Unless serious illness is beginning, the chances are that,
under this treatment, the little one will be almost well by the next
day.
Mothers would do well to make a study of children's ailments and their
proper treatment. Above all, the matter of diet should be
comprehended. It is appalling to see the conglomeration of
indigestible substances which a sick person is allowed to eat. All
children should be trained to take medicine, and to submit to any
prescribed dietary without resistance.
To keep up your patient's courage be, or at all events seem, cheerful.
Wise old Solomon, in his day, knew that a merry heart did good like a
medicine, and the morsel of wisdom is no less true now than then. Such
being the case, bring into the presence of the sufferer a bright face
and undisturbed demeanor.
Much may be said on the other side of the question, _i.e._, from the
nurse's standpoint. There are patients _and_ patients, and some of
them are _im_patients. It is a pity for a sick person to allow himself
to so far lose control over his temper and manners as to be
disagreeable when all that tender care and nursing can do is his. But
really ill people are seldom cross, and the tried nurse may take to
heart the comforting thought that one rarely hears of a man dying in a
bad humor. It is undoubtedly discouraging to have a patient turn away
from a carefully prepared dainty with a shudder of disgust and
revulsion. It may sound harsh to say it, but nobody, sick or well,
has the right to do such an unkind and rude thing. Any one in extreme
bodily discomfort cannot be always smiling and uttering thanks, but he
can be gentle and appreciative of the efforts that are made toward
mitigating his distress. On his own account, as well as for the sake
of his attendant, he should keep up a semblance of cheerfulness, the
moral force of which is great. On the part of patient and nurse there
must be self control and forbearance, which if closely practiced may
bring sunshine into the most darkly shaded chamber of suffering.