For the One who Won't Remember... from your Nurse.

I’ll be honest: When you started getting confused and agitated at the start of my shift, my first thought was, "Oh lordy, this is going to be a long night." The bedcheck went off several times in a row, and the charge nurse immediately called to have a vest restraint brought up from Central Supply. You were so angry with me for requiring you to sit back down, despite explaining that Physical Therapy had ordered nothing beyond stand and pivot with assist.

I looked at you in frustration, then saw you in a moment I can only describe as a gift. I saw, not a senescent, agitated man in a faded gown, but a glimpse into who you were, and still are, beneath wrinkles and a mind that fails you.

You’re frustrated, too, aren't you? It must be frightening to be bossed around by people in a strange place and not know why. 

You don’t want to forget all the reassuring things I keep repeating… that you’re in the hospital… that I’m here to care for you…that you're safe... that I want you to heal… that I am trying to help.

Many years ago, you fought for me on a hill or beach far away. Tonight, I will fight for you, too.

I will fight my frustration, a calloused attitude, and my busy shift and demanding to-do list. I will fight “easy,” which only consists of short verbal redirection and restraints. I will fight for the time to spend talking you through what’s going on rather than being vexed that I need to explain it again.

I will fight against seeing you as a frustrating, forgetful man in hospital issue faded green and think instead of when you wore another green issued uniform many years ago on my behalf.

When you have glimpses of understanding and are saddened by your forgetfulness, I will remind you that you are precious and valued. I will protect your dignity. Though I may smile at the things you say, I will not mock that which you have no control over.

You won’t remember me. You won’t write my name on an HCAHPS survey like the other patients in my group might. You won’t tell your family how much you loved your nightshift nurse. You probably won’t remember me tomorrow, or an hour from now when you reawaken and the process is repeated all over again.  My actions are almost 100% guaranteed to go unnoticed. But for tonight, for this moment, I hope you rest in the dignity of being cared for as one of God’s children, who is of great value.



Based on a shift several months ago, following the loss of my grandfather to Alzheimer's. 
May we all take a piece of this with us as we care for our dementia patients.