"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a difficult battle."
...
On a busy night shift a while ago, I picked up the next longest waiting patient to be seen. Before I left our staff base to speak to him though, I was warned by a colleague.
"Be careful, that patient looked really angry earlier."
I walked into the cubicle and was coldly greeted by a middle-aged man. The conversation escalated quickly as he was extremely unhappy about having to wait over two hours in the ED prior to being seen by a doctor, despite being given intravenous pain relief fairly early on. He had come in with abdominal pain and an intestinal stoma which had stopped functioning on a background of multiple complex abdominal surgeries for cancer in the past.
Whilst standing (generally a good sign that they aren't critically unwell), he looked me in the eye and said to me seriously, "If anything happens to me, it will be your fault. Maybe not you specifically Candice, but this hospital. It will be negligence, because I am a sick man, and I am not just someone with a broken leg or a mental health issue."
More than halfway into this demanding night shift where I had been working as hard as I possibly could, (let me be real here and say that) I was not very impressed in that moment. I did not appreciate the threats upon introduction, nor the sarcastic sighs and demands that followed.
Part of me wanted to retaliate. The truth is, he did not see the young woman I looked after while he was waiting. She was practically blue, struggling to breathe despite having the highest possible concentration of oxygen being delivered via a face mask. He did not see the crying woman who was miscarrying her unborn child and was bleeding large blood clots. Nor did he see the elderly woman dropping her blood pressure and becoming more and more unwell despite the machines we had her connected to to help her breathe.
Still, professionally and spiritually, I knew better than to fight fire with fire. I chose the wiser - I held my tongue and continued trying to defuse the situation.
"I'm very sorry for your inconvenience, but I can assure you that we are all trying our best to care for everyone in this department while being short staffed. Now, how can I help you? Tell me more about this pain."
He lay back down onto the hospital bed and started telling me about what had happened. His caring wife stood by his side and gently added information as he went along.
As he spoke, his anger dissipated slowly, revealing a very raw and vulnerable.. fear.
He was diagnosed with metastatic bowel cancer months ago and had been told that he had under six months to live. He explained that he was so scared of his bowels perforating after the intense surgery he had, and that he wanted to see a doctor quickly because he was afraid of this being the end of the road for him.
"I did the surgery because I wanted more time with her," he said tearfully while holding on to his wife's hand. She too wept softly while listening to him speak.
The initial tension in that room was long gone by now.
All that was left was, peace.. God's peace, I dare say.
Long story short, after taking a proper history and looking at his XRay, I figured out that he was actually constipated. His stoma was not working because it was blocked by hard faeces. All that needed to be done was to essentially "unclog the pipes". The three of us got to work manually clearing it bit by bit, even laughing together in that little cubicle that it still smelled like papaya instead of being malodorous. He began to feel much better once all that faecal material was removed, and his pain improved significantly too. I checked him over once more and satisfactorily told them that they could go home.
Their faces upon getting discharged were completely different that the initial glares I was introduced to. Their eyes were soft, the frowns replaced with an unmistakable peace, and they kept thanking me for taking care of him that night.
They offered me kind, large smiles of gratefulness as they waved goodbye to me and slowly walked out the ED together.
...
Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a difficult battle.
These words came to mind as I reflected on that encounter later in the morning. I remembered also a Bible verse that was prophesied over me in the past - "when treated with slander, you respond with kindness." That was from 1 Corinthians 4:13.
How grateful I felt really, that we got to have an ending like that after all that had happened. They truly were beautiful people, and it would've been a shame if I had missed out on seeing that because of my preconceived ideas, or if I chose to remain blinded by my own anger.
I write this story not to boast in any way.
I write this because it was a powerful reminder to myself to not judge people too quickly.
People will have reasons for their actions, and from the outside looking in without getting to know their battles, our judgments can too often be incredibly unfair and incredibly wrong. After all, we're all running our own challenging races in this life.
Perhaps all we need to do to see the beauty and magic all around us, is to take our eyes off our own pity parties, show a little kindness, and try, really try, to ease the sufferings of our fellow men, even if only in a brief encounter.
...
On a busy night shift a while ago, I picked up the next longest waiting patient to be seen. Before I left our staff base to speak to him though, I was warned by a colleague.
"Be careful, that patient looked really angry earlier."
I walked into the cubicle and was coldly greeted by a middle-aged man. The conversation escalated quickly as he was extremely unhappy about having to wait over two hours in the ED prior to being seen by a doctor, despite being given intravenous pain relief fairly early on. He had come in with abdominal pain and an intestinal stoma which had stopped functioning on a background of multiple complex abdominal surgeries for cancer in the past.
Whilst standing (generally a good sign that they aren't critically unwell), he looked me in the eye and said to me seriously, "If anything happens to me, it will be your fault. Maybe not you specifically Candice, but this hospital. It will be negligence, because I am a sick man, and I am not just someone with a broken leg or a mental health issue."
More than halfway into this demanding night shift where I had been working as hard as I possibly could, (let me be real here and say that) I was not very impressed in that moment. I did not appreciate the threats upon introduction, nor the sarcastic sighs and demands that followed.
Part of me wanted to retaliate. The truth is, he did not see the young woman I looked after while he was waiting. She was practically blue, struggling to breathe despite having the highest possible concentration of oxygen being delivered via a face mask. He did not see the crying woman who was miscarrying her unborn child and was bleeding large blood clots. Nor did he see the elderly woman dropping her blood pressure and becoming more and more unwell despite the machines we had her connected to to help her breathe.
Still, professionally and spiritually, I knew better than to fight fire with fire. I chose the wiser - I held my tongue and continued trying to defuse the situation.
"I'm very sorry for your inconvenience, but I can assure you that we are all trying our best to care for everyone in this department while being short staffed. Now, how can I help you? Tell me more about this pain."
He lay back down onto the hospital bed and started telling me about what had happened. His caring wife stood by his side and gently added information as he went along.
As he spoke, his anger dissipated slowly, revealing a very raw and vulnerable.. fear.
He was diagnosed with metastatic bowel cancer months ago and had been told that he had under six months to live. He explained that he was so scared of his bowels perforating after the intense surgery he had, and that he wanted to see a doctor quickly because he was afraid of this being the end of the road for him.
"I did the surgery because I wanted more time with her," he said tearfully while holding on to his wife's hand. She too wept softly while listening to him speak.
The initial tension in that room was long gone by now.
All that was left was, peace.. God's peace, I dare say.
Long story short, after taking a proper history and looking at his XRay, I figured out that he was actually constipated. His stoma was not working because it was blocked by hard faeces. All that needed to be done was to essentially "unclog the pipes". The three of us got to work manually clearing it bit by bit, even laughing together in that little cubicle that it still smelled like papaya instead of being malodorous. He began to feel much better once all that faecal material was removed, and his pain improved significantly too. I checked him over once more and satisfactorily told them that they could go home.
Their faces upon getting discharged were completely different that the initial glares I was introduced to. Their eyes were soft, the frowns replaced with an unmistakable peace, and they kept thanking me for taking care of him that night.
They offered me kind, large smiles of gratefulness as they waved goodbye to me and slowly walked out the ED together.
...
Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a difficult battle.
These words came to mind as I reflected on that encounter later in the morning. I remembered also a Bible verse that was prophesied over me in the past - "when treated with slander, you respond with kindness." That was from 1 Corinthians 4:13.
How grateful I felt really, that we got to have an ending like that after all that had happened. They truly were beautiful people, and it would've been a shame if I had missed out on seeing that because of my preconceived ideas, or if I chose to remain blinded by my own anger.
I write this story not to boast in any way.
I write this because it was a powerful reminder to myself to not judge people too quickly.
People will have reasons for their actions, and from the outside looking in without getting to know their battles, our judgments can too often be incredibly unfair and incredibly wrong. After all, we're all running our own challenging races in this life.
Perhaps all we need to do to see the beauty and magic all around us, is to take our eyes off our own pity parties, show a little kindness, and try, really try, to ease the sufferings of our fellow men, even if only in a brief encounter.
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