Du Jianli
February 2017
Du
Jianli
,
RN
1-9F Respiratory Unit
Sir Run Run Shaw Hospital
Hangzhou City, Zhejiang Province
China
I would like to say "Thank you" to my mentor, Nurse Du Jianli.
I can still vividly remember that day from nine months ago when I experienced going from frustration to confidence. The handover report of one patient from the night shift nurse with an exhausted voice drew a deep breath out of my mentor Du Jianli and me. The patient, diagnosed with lung cancer and liver cancer, yet the primary cancer still remained unknown, was referred to our hospital two days ago from the local hospital. Fevers repeatedly racked his body with temperatures soaring up to 38.5? (101.3 °F). He and his family members were very demanding. They pulled the call bell constantly for very little things and were always very irritable and agitated with a high level of anxiety.
Caring for a patient like this, whose family members are also demanding, is the one thing that I'm the most afraid of. Just as I wondered how I could make it through the day as his primary nurse, Du Jianli, the team leader, gently put her hand on my shoulder and said, "Let's go together to the bedside and check on your patient", so calmly, as if she had already seen through me.
At the bedside, she said, "I heard that you had a very rough night and did not sleep well, right? I'm sorry for that. How are you feeling now? Is there anything I could do for you?" As Du talked, she put her hand gently on the patient's shoulder, leaning forward as if she was talking to a dear friend. He struggled to open his eyes as he heard the gentle voice, but then quickly closed them again. It seemed like opening his eyes took so much strength that he had to take a rest. "Still having a fever?" Du asked as she reached her hand to his forehead. "You sweat a lot. I know that our night nurse had helped you changed your gowns. Do you want me to give you a rub bath and help you change into clean clothes?" He was very frail, but he nodded his head. As we helped change his gown, Du did not stop talking, mainly to encourage him and his family members, who did not show much friendliness. Right after putting him to sleep, his family asked with agonized faces, "When will our doctor come to see us? We've been waiting forever!"
Du then led the family member outside and looked at her full of compassion, "We nurses and the physicians are very concerned about his situation. We just went through his lab and test results and the doctor in charge will definitely come to see him in a while. I will call and ask him to come a little bit earlier, OK?" She nodded as she released her distrust. Du held her hands and asked what she thought about the patient's disease (including things like what to do next). She could not hold back her tears, and started crying, "We want him to be alive again. He is only 63.We want him back at any cost. We will do anything that is good for him." Du held her as she cried and said, "Your doctor may come and talk with you later. I think what you need to do now is to calm yourself down and be a support for him, OK? Please don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything."
The doctor, after talking with the family, prescribed palliative care, which is another thing I'm not good at. Du backed me up by saying, "It's ok if you don't know how to do it. You may go back and learn more about it. Today, we are going to care for our patient together. I'll show you." My nervousness gradually disappeared as Du and I provided the care needed.
Later on, as we passed by the conference room where the doctor was talking with the family and overheard that they still could not accept the fact that he was dying. Du later found the family member and led her to a small room near the nurses' station, where she could have some private time. She handed her some tissues and started comforting her. Du pointed to a plant with fading flower and said, "That's just like us. Everyone has his/her own fate. If it is meant to be his last few days, isn't is more meaningful to be with him and help him fulfill his wishes instead of being so distressed. Your being there means so much more to him."
The patient chose to go home for his last days and finish the things he wanted. On the day of his discharge, the family member walked to the nursing station with a "Thank you" card for Du, who had been a friend, a supporter for her.
I was so impressed not only by what Du did for her patient but also by how she delivered the care. I've learned so much from her, including peer support and palliative care. She is the one who demonstrated how to comfort and communicate with patients. She is my role model. I hope someday I can be a nurse as good as she is.
I can still vividly remember that day from nine months ago when I experienced going from frustration to confidence. The handover report of one patient from the night shift nurse with an exhausted voice drew a deep breath out of my mentor Du Jianli and me. The patient, diagnosed with lung cancer and liver cancer, yet the primary cancer still remained unknown, was referred to our hospital two days ago from the local hospital. Fevers repeatedly racked his body with temperatures soaring up to 38.5? (101.3 °F). He and his family members were very demanding. They pulled the call bell constantly for very little things and were always very irritable and agitated with a high level of anxiety.
Caring for a patient like this, whose family members are also demanding, is the one thing that I'm the most afraid of. Just as I wondered how I could make it through the day as his primary nurse, Du Jianli, the team leader, gently put her hand on my shoulder and said, "Let's go together to the bedside and check on your patient", so calmly, as if she had already seen through me.
At the bedside, she said, "I heard that you had a very rough night and did not sleep well, right? I'm sorry for that. How are you feeling now? Is there anything I could do for you?" As Du talked, she put her hand gently on the patient's shoulder, leaning forward as if she was talking to a dear friend. He struggled to open his eyes as he heard the gentle voice, but then quickly closed them again. It seemed like opening his eyes took so much strength that he had to take a rest. "Still having a fever?" Du asked as she reached her hand to his forehead. "You sweat a lot. I know that our night nurse had helped you changed your gowns. Do you want me to give you a rub bath and help you change into clean clothes?" He was very frail, but he nodded his head. As we helped change his gown, Du did not stop talking, mainly to encourage him and his family members, who did not show much friendliness. Right after putting him to sleep, his family asked with agonized faces, "When will our doctor come to see us? We've been waiting forever!"
Du then led the family member outside and looked at her full of compassion, "We nurses and the physicians are very concerned about his situation. We just went through his lab and test results and the doctor in charge will definitely come to see him in a while. I will call and ask him to come a little bit earlier, OK?" She nodded as she released her distrust. Du held her hands and asked what she thought about the patient's disease (including things like what to do next). She could not hold back her tears, and started crying, "We want him to be alive again. He is only 63.We want him back at any cost. We will do anything that is good for him." Du held her as she cried and said, "Your doctor may come and talk with you later. I think what you need to do now is to calm yourself down and be a support for him, OK? Please don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything."
The doctor, after talking with the family, prescribed palliative care, which is another thing I'm not good at. Du backed me up by saying, "It's ok if you don't know how to do it. You may go back and learn more about it. Today, we are going to care for our patient together. I'll show you." My nervousness gradually disappeared as Du and I provided the care needed.
Later on, as we passed by the conference room where the doctor was talking with the family and overheard that they still could not accept the fact that he was dying. Du later found the family member and led her to a small room near the nurses' station, where she could have some private time. She handed her some tissues and started comforting her. Du pointed to a plant with fading flower and said, "That's just like us. Everyone has his/her own fate. If it is meant to be his last few days, isn't is more meaningful to be with him and help him fulfill his wishes instead of being so distressed. Your being there means so much more to him."
The patient chose to go home for his last days and finish the things he wanted. On the day of his discharge, the family member walked to the nursing station with a "Thank you" card for Du, who had been a friend, a supporter for her.
I was so impressed not only by what Du did for her patient but also by how she delivered the care. I've learned so much from her, including peer support and palliative care. She is the one who demonstrated how to comfort and communicate with patients. She is my role model. I hope someday I can be a nurse as good as she is.