handprints

you'd think after years of working on the same unit, with the same kinds of patients, i would have done most things by now. it's true. i've administered numerous kinds of chemotherapy, given drugs that i've never heard of, put my fingers in places i wish i hadn't... you get the idea. but last week, i did something i've never done before. and although it was a learning experience, i found it kind of weird. one of those moments where you want to laugh, but laughing would be inappropriate.

i helped a fellow nurse paint the hand of her patient with jet-black ink using a roller brush and made handprints on pretty paper. it was like an art project, for three year olds. only i'm not a pre-school teacher and my subject was not three. she was in her sixties. breathing with the help of a ventilator. her arms were flaccid and her fingers squeezed together tightly. her family members watched us, as if we had done this before. as if we should be good at arts and crafts with nearly dead people. and instead, we smudged paint. we had to make a few before we got any that looked like hands. and even the good ones looked like a preschooler had done it.

but to my amazement, the family loved it.

our unit is trying to get better at death and dying. thank god! this kind of improvement is right up my alley. i wish doctors and nurses were all comfortable talking about that journey. i wish we could light candles and sing. when parents of small children are dying, i wish we helped tape video messages or write letters. but instead, we're making handprints. and i guess it's a good start.

even though it felt weird to me.