The Spirit of Caring

I never imagined myself saying this but my recent visit to Nenagh General Hospital in County Tipperary was a pleasant one. I do not think anyone fancies going to a hospital unless she really has to. Other than the happy occasion of welcoming a new born baby, most of us associate hospitals with emergency cases, blood and all its gore.

This time round I went for a routine colonscopy on a Wednesday morning and the anxiety drama started on the Monday prior to that because I had to go on a soft diet followed by a liquid fast. Then on Tuesday I had to drink two litres of Moviprep and one litre of water. It wasn’t exactly the most fantastic drink but the flavour had improved greatly since the last time I took it.

When the day came, I was surrounded by lovely and very friendly hospital staff – right from the admissions desk to the day ward. Nurses like Peggy, Helena and Dierdre and Aine fussed around me and made me forget what I was in there for.

That is what I call the human touch.

What a difference good bedside manners make. You are surrounded by total strangers and yet they treat you so well, as if they have known you for some time or you are the next-of-kin.

There were a number of elderly patients around me and I observed that the staff spoke very nicely to them and cared for them with great respect. Although respecting the elderly is a golden rule, to actually see younger people putting that to practice is something else.

A far cry from what I used to experience in hospitals before.

I had nurses shouting at me in both private and public hospitals.

When I was at a private hospital delivering my first born, a nurse made snide and uncouth remarks when I was writhing with labour pains. Because it was so traumatic, I can still hear those remarks even though my daughter is well in her adulthood.

Then on another occasion, the daughter was sick with croup and had to be hospitalised in a public hospital known for its state-of-the-art facilities for a week. She was four at that time. As I could not take time off from my lectures, I had to sit by her bedside and prepare my lessons while she slept only to be sarcastically told off by a nurse that the children’s ward is not a market where I could bring in my ‘wares’ and do my work there.

Often times we blame it on the environment, on the lack of staff or on staff being overworked. I guess when we want to find something to blame, there is always something to blame.

Dealing with humans is a calling. There are those in people-related professions, medical or otherwise, who should not have been there in the first place. We also hear of awful stories of carers who abuse their senior patients who are not in the position to fend for themselves. In the absence of the closed circuit television which can reveal the horrors of abuse, I wonder how many patients are silently suffering for fear of retribution?

So back to my experience at the Nenagh General Hospital day ward. When I finally woke up after the procedure, there was no lack of attention either. I was given a can of seven-up, followed by a pot of hot piping tea and two slices of toast with butter and marmalade. (Just like Paddington bear, marmalade is my favourite jam)

I felt like it was home away from home.

                          A blessed Christmas to one and all

Source: http://www.nst.com.my/node/62289