Recently, my mother was in the hospital for a urinary tract/kidney infection. In her prime, my mother was a strong, caring, wonderful woman that always went out of her way to help those around her. Now, she has advanced Alzheimer's disease and is no longer able to care for herself, express her needs, move, or speak. She lives in a nursing home now and is so often overlooked by staff that simply don't have time to give her the love and attention that she so greatly deserves.
During my mother's stay one day, it seemed like all of the hospital staff were running around, so busy with so many things to do. It reminded me of scenes from the nursing home that I regularly encounter: too many patients, too little staff. The staff was working so hard to be polite but you could tell that they didn't have time to waste after they got their job done. Hilary was my mom's nurse on this fast-paced day. She came in and introduced herself to me and my mother with a genuine smile. I noticed instantly that she wanted to be here, she was so happy, the kind of happy that can't be faked. She had joy.
Hilary took my mother's hand, looked at her in the eye, and spoke to her, already knowing that she couldn't respond but knowing that she could hear, betting on the chance that my mom can still understand her own identity, despite her Alzheimer's. She immediately identified my mother as a person, not a condition, which is something that I hadn't witnessed a non-family member do in years. She told my mother her name, the date, the time, where she was, why she was here, and the plan for the day. She reassured her that she would be taken care of. She explained that she needed to evaluate her, told her how her heart sounded, how her lungs sounded, how her skin looked. When she finished examining my mom, Hilary checked to make sure she was dry and clean. She put lotion on her backside and repositioned her, all while explaining to my mom what and why she was doing what she was doing. She brushed her hair and teeth, washed her face and hands, and tucked her in. When her breakfast that I ordered arrived, I overheard a CNA saying that it would be a while before she could feed my mother.
Just a few minutes later, Hilary arrived with my mom's pills, crushed them, explained them to her, gave them to her, then fed her breakfast. This took a long time because it is hard for my mom to chew and swallow. Hilary stayed the whole time, making sure my mom got plenty to eat and drink. She even offered and got me coffee. This was how the whole day went. Hilary came in every hour to reposition my mom, offer her water and juice, check to make sure she was still clean and dry, and just to talk to her. I don't know how much my mom can still comprehend, but I know by the end of the day she smiled at Hilary, and I haven't seen her do that in far too long.
I just wanted to take some time to offer a small tribute to the most dedicated, caring, outgoing nurse I have ever come in contact with. She is what I think of when I think of what nursing should be. When I would leave the room, Hilary was busy just like everyone else, going to grab medications and pillows and checking on her other patients and talking with doctors, but over all of the rush, I could hear her laugh, see her smile, and share her joy. She treated my mom like she treats everyone with care, compassion, and respect. Hilary is an example to all nurses everywhere. I hope she knows just how valuable she is and how she makes the lives of those around her so much better and brighter.