I first posted “The Story Behind the Message” in 2017 before my memoir was published. Now as I work on my second book, this post remains as relevant to me as ever.
Writing for me doesn’t get easier, Molly.
Rearranging my bookcase, I came across a book with the following inscription:
This is the story behind the message:
I had been writing for as long as I can remember. I saved many of my stories in longhand on scraps of paper, on faded yellow legal pads, and typed up on an old manual typewriter with multiple errors (I flunked typing in high-school). All were unedited and unfinished.
In the early 90s when I lived in the Washington DC area, I started to take writing more seriously by attending classes and conferences. One of the workshops was sponsored by the Smithsonian. I can’t remember for the life of me the woman who conducted the class. What I do remember was the cross section of adults who sat on folded chairs in the cramped room three stories below ground level at the Dillon Ripley Center. At one session, the instructor had invited her friend who was visiting from out of state, the author Molly Giles.
Molly looked to be about my age. She had reddish blond hair and a warm, earthy persona. I immediately wanted to be her best friend. She described the office she rented so she could write undisturbed.
After the class, I stood along side of the table where Molly was autographing her latest book: Creek Walk and Other Stories (still in print). She was poised with pen in hand ready to inscribe the book to me as I chatted on about how much I enjoyed her talk and how I thought writing was fun. She cocked an eyebrow at me as if I had just told her I still believed in the tooth fairy. Gently, she told me that writing could be difficult.
Now, over 20 years later, I have written many words, finished and published some stories. I completed a memoir and am investigating self-publishing venues. For me, writing is more arduous than exhilarating. My greatest strength is persistence.
How I wish I could meet with Molly over a mocha latte at some cozy coffee house. I know what she was trying to tell me so long ago. She was right.
As a home health nurse, I made visits in Chicago, Washington D.C., and right before I retired, in the areas surrounding Raleigh, North Carolina. I didn’t climb over the roofs in New York City, nor did I ride a horse or a bike. Unlike the nurses in the Visiting Nurse Service of New York City (1893), or the nurses in the Frontier Nursing Service in Kentucky (1925), and more recently, the midwives depicted on the TV show: Call the Midwife, I drove a car.
One of the handicaps I had in driving a car back in the 80s was that there wasn’t a GPS. Being directionally challenged, I lucked out when I discovered I could put a compass on the dashboard of my vehicle. And even more lucky that I could calibrate the compass on the straight north and south streets of Chicago. I rarely got lost after that. However, I do remember a time that I almost didn’t make a home visit because I couldn’t find the patient’s home.
I was going to see a new patient in Chicago’s western suburbs; an area where I was unfamiliar. I had looked up the directions back at the hospital before setting out. We kept a stack of street maps in the chart room. For some reason, the directions I wrote down didn’t work. I stopped at a phone booth (remember those?). That phone booth and the others nearby hadn’t been serviced. No one had come to remove the quarters that blocked the coin insert. My stash of quarters were worthless. I found a gas station attendant that let me use the office phone to call the patient’s home. (N.B. The first staff member to visit a new patient made an entry in the patient’s record with accurate directions to the home).
As much as I felt inconvenienced without a GPS, how did my predecessors, who rode on horseback or bikes or climbed over roof tops, find their patients?
The Chicago winters caused the greatest panic: The windshield wiper that stopped working as I drove on the highway in a snowstorm or the time I tried to make a “careful” right turn on an icy road but the car decided to skid sideways in another direction. I carried a shovel in the trunk to dig my way into a parking space when I visited patients who lived in the city.
Driving in D.C. could be aggravating. The summer roads crammed with tourists. Presidential motorcades halting traffic. A slight dusting of snow would show the incompetence of drivers from tropical countries.
While I’m most comfortable driving in big cities, the farmlands of the South have challenged me. After one especially wet spring, I drove into a rural town I had never heard of and parked on the lawn in front of a small wood frame house. I sloshed to the front door. No one was home. I tried to call (I had a cell phone then). No answer.
Back in the car, I couldn’t get any traction to move. I spun the wheels, digging the car deeper into the soggy ground. After I called my auto insurance company to approve a tow, I called a nearby service station. The mechanic at the other end didn’t recognize my patient’s address. Not remembering the name of the main road, I would have to walk a quarter of a mile to read the street sign. The car door barely opened over the lawn. I ventured into the cold rain, hoping not to lose my footing on the muddy, rutted road.
The tow truck came quickly after I identified myself as a home health nurse in need of getting to my next scheduled patient.
The local police chief came along for the ride. He was in the garage when my call came in. He thought he could be of some help in tracking down my location. Would I have had such personal attention in Chicago or D.C.? There are trade-offs.
I would love to travel back in time and sit with other visiting nurses. I can’t even imagine the challenges they would describe getting to their patients’ home on horseback, or over tenement roofs, or on bikes. I probably would have no cause to complain about driving a car.
I asked Martha Barry who worked with me at the Erie Family Health Centers in the early 80s, to remind me if the Certified Nurse Midwives delivered babies.
Here’s what she said:
The model for the Certified Nurse Midwives (CNM) when I arrived was outpatient care only. The CNM did all of the New OBs and sorted out the high-risk patients and cared for the other patients throughout their pregnancies, post-partum and follow-up gyn care. Prenatal care was intense case management. (We took) a lot of care and time to be sure no one fell through the cracks and got “lost to follow up.” Luckily, we could utilize the community health RNs to help find patients who did not show up for a visit. At the beginning, Medicaid was not widely available to all low-income pregnant women and especially not to non-citizens. The patients would be on a payment plan and would need to pay by “7-months” and it was a deal that included their prenatal, postnatal and delivery costs. I remember patients bringing their money stuffed in their bras to pay up at that 7-month mark. Deliveries were at Ravenswood Hospital. I wish I could remember the cost. The consulting OB physician would come to Erie for a few hours each week.
I also remember a few patients who worked at the live poultry plant and they said that although they had no health insurance, the boss would pay their delivery fees!
I was preparing for my talk to the first class of AdvancingPractice, a one-year fellowship to develop quality care and nursing leadership at the clinic I had worked in over 30 years ago and written about in my book: Stories from the Tenth-Floor Clinic: A Nurse Practitioner Remembers.
I read Martha’s words to the group of eight APRN Fellows especially showing the generosity of the poultry plant employer. Then I told the Pigeon Lady story from my book that ends with a neighborhood funeral home director footing the bill for the wake and burial of one of our patients. He then turned around and donated that amount back to the clinic. (It’s complicated) I wanted to stress the interrelatedness of the surrounding community on the health care clinic.
Part of my presentation was to discuss the historical context of the advancement of nurse practitioners and nurse midwives (collectively labeled Advanced Practice Registered Nurses, APRN).
One of the handouts for the class (Expanding Access to Primary Care: The Role of Nurse Practitioners, Physician Assistants, and Certified Nurse Midwives in the Health Center Workforce, National Association of Community Health Centers, September 2013) plunged me back to the time I and other new APRNs in the Chicago area were struggling to justify our right to practice to the full extent of our training.
How much had I forgotten—maybe wanted to forget. For example, back in 1957 the American Nurses Association developed a definition of nursing that would retard the advancement of nursing practice for decades: nurses were neither to diagnose nor prescribe. And some groups of nurses called us “little doctors” and didn’t support developing educational programs in nursing colleges.
I hope the new Fellows I spoke to learned from my presentation something about the historical context of the role, the significance of the role in the community setting and the potential of the APRN career choice.
I close with a quote from the NACHC fact sheet:
An expanded role for nursing is an idea deeply rooted in nursing’s past and from it, much can be learned for today. Indeed, nurses should take this historical opportunity to think creatively about recycling elements of past practice for today’s unique context—perhaps initiating state-of-the-art nurse-run clinics in rural and inner city areas; reaching others by telenursing; and collaborating with designers in technology firms to create Apps and other high tech solutions to bridge gaps that exist in healthcare today. To do so, they must first read and understand the impact of the historical antecedents, cornerstone documents, and legislative acts that contribute to the nursing profession’s rich history.
Expanding Access to Primary Care: The Role of Nurse Practitioners, Physician Assistants, and Certified Nurse Midwives in the Health Center Workforce, National Association of Community Health Centers, September 2013, Page 9
Sandy and Harry Summers review in their June 2020 The Truth About Nursing Blog a story that appeared in the Washington Post. I am always happy to see another example of the media covering nurses and nursing issues. And this time the authors talk about “what nurses actually do!”
However, it’s sad that it has taken a pandemic to call attention to the nursing profession.
The Summers, as usual, have done an exceptional job in their textual criticism of the essay.
Washington Postreport on nursing in Covid era offers unusually deep look at profession
A long April 2020 piece in thePosthad information from a diverse group of nurses. Of course, they were able to explain how itfeelsto be a nurse in the Covid-19 era—a common press theme now. But they also described the nature of the profession, what nurses actuallydofor patients, and nurses’ protests about inadequate PPE.
April 28, 2020 – Today the Washington Post had a good story by Dan Zak and Monica Hesse headlined “Nurses are trying to save us from the virus, and from ourselves.” That last part signals that this won’t be just a standard “nurse-hero” piece about how difficult it is to care for Covid-19 patients. Instead, the article manages to provide a surprisingly in-depth look at the nursing profession, from its historical roots to its key roles in patient surveillance and advocacy, including why many nurses are now protesting about shortages of personal protective equipment (PPE). One highlight of the piece is a capsule description of what direct care nurses do by Laurie Combe, the president of the National Association of School Nurses. Combe talks about the subtle but critical assessments and the vital psychosocial care nurses provide. The piece also discusses some of Florence Nightingale’s work to revolutionize care settings and improve survival rates in the 19th Century. And it describes nurses’ protest activities during the current pandemic, particularly efforts by members of National Nurses United to push for the federal government and hospitals to ensure that nurses have adequate PPE. One nurse protester mocks the “hero” narrative nurses often hear now as just “gaslighting” when it’s accompanied by a failure to provide them with PPE. These elements point to nurses’ key patient advocacy role, although the article does not make that link specifically. And the report is not perfect, as a few elements tend to support the incorrect notion that nurses are virtuous adjuncts of physicians, rather than autonomous professionals whose focus is serving patients. But overall the piece gives a vivid sense of what nursing is about and the situation of nurses trying to care for Covid-19 patients now. We thank those responsible.
Strong and smart
The Post report does start by discussing the demands of Covid care. It explains how hard it is to provide expert and empathetic care for 12 or more hours while wearing burdensome PPE in an under-resourced setting while “confronting the most frightening pandemic in 100 years.”
But then the piece backs up and asks what nurses really do. Apparently they are “the glue” and the “link between patient and doctor,” and their profession is consistently rated the “most honest and ethical” in Gallup surveys. Those descriptions are all somewhat problematic—the familiar polling point because it often masks a lack of true respect for nurses’ skills, and the earlier descriptions because they present nurses as adjuncts to physicians, which they are not. Nursing is an autonomous profession that exists to serve patients, not physicians. The reporters do say that nurses don’t want to be called heroes, but for the public to stay home and stay alive. And then they turn it over to a nurse expert, who picks up on the standard “most trusted” message the piece has just presented.
“But I don’t think that means people really understand what nurses do,” says Laurie Combe, president of the National Association of School Nurses. It’s a complex job, requiring knowledge of both biochemistry and psychology, in myriad environments. Nurses are helping your fourth-grader learn to track her insulin levels at school, and they are putting pressure on a gunshot wound at 2 a.m. while noting that the victim has no pulse. They are monitoring both your heart rate and your spirit. When they touch your arm, in what would appear to be a simple gesture of friendliness, they are also testing if you’re hot, swollen, dehydrated, tremoring. “I can observe what is on your bedside table that you’re reading — if I can talk with you about that, I can strengthen our connection to build trust,” says Combe, who has been a nurse in the Houston area for 45 years. “I can see who’s in your room visiting, what the interaction looks like, and see whether that’s a trusted person or not, so I know what I can talk about during that visit.”
This is one of the best capsule descriptions of nursing that we have seen in almost two decades of doing this work. Ten stars for Laurie Combe! She identifies the problem with the angel narrative, and then she addresses it, with a short, compelling description of how nurses help people in ways few even realize are happening.
The piece moves on to note that the coronavirus has changed what nurses do, as they may be working in unfamiliar units under extreme conditions without adequate PPE, “facilitating virtual goodbyes with dying family members” and “organizing protests against hospitals and the White House.” Some are running Covid testing sites, and the article profiles Brenda Lagares, who had been a “night nurse” in New York City before being recruiting to be a “sampling nurse” at a drive-through testing site in Bear Mountain, NY. She tests motorists after having “been given 15 minutes of training to potentially save their lives.” These descriptions do not convey a very full picture of nursing education or expertise. Fortunately, Lagares gets to explain what she does for patients even in the fast-paced and limited drive-through setting. She describes how, even encumbered by PPE, she can read patients’ emotional state (by examining their eyes) and provide reassurance (with explanation, encouragement, a wave and a thumbs up). The article also talks to another nurse at a test site, in Orlando, FL. Sasha DeCesare went to nursing school in Venezuela. DeCesare believes it’s great to be a nurse in the U.S. because (in the report’s words) “it’s a female-dominated profession, filled with strong and smart women.” But now she has worked 22 days straight, and sleeps in a hotel to protect her family from infection.
The piece has some history. This starts with Nightingale’s work for soldiers in the 1850s Crimean War, which the article explains in some detail. It involved better hygiene, ventilation, nutrition, and fundraising. As the piece explains, “the death rate for admitted patients fell by more than half. [Nightingale] wasn’t only a caretaker. She was a revolutionary.” And she wrote Notes on Nursing, which “became a bible for modern care.” The piece quotes Barbra Mann Wall, director of the Eleanor Crowder Bjoring Center for Nursing Historical Inquiry at the University of Virginia, on the diversity of early nurses in the United States. (The piece might have noted that Mann Wall is herself a prominent UVA nursing professor with a PhD.) Apparently relying on Mann Wall, the piece describes the growth of nursing during and after the Civil War, as well as the development of nursing education from a two-year apprenticeship based mostly on skills — wound care, bedsores prevention — to a four-year program equally based on science. … Eventually, nursing would encompass a range of specialties and career paths; a nurse anesthetist might make $175,000 a year, while a nursing assistant might make $14 an hour.
Not surprisingly, the piece pauses at the 1918 flu pandemic. Apparently relying again on Mann Wall, it notes that the best treatment available then was “rest, hydration, hygiene — the pillars on which Nightingale had built her practice.” And it quotes then-health commissioner of Philadelphia Wilmer Krusen on what was needed in that epidemic, given that beds and physicians were in sufficient supply: “Nurses, more nurses and yet more nurses.” That is a timely comment today, when much of the early media on Covid-19 focused on beds and ventilators, ignoring the nurses who would be needed to care for the patients using that equipment.
And the article has a substantial amount of material on the protests, i.e., the patient advocacy. The reporters explain:
People keep saying that nurses are on the front lines, but they are actually behind enemylines, surrounded on all sides. They are trying to save us, and save us from ourselves. Nurses are protesting protesters, standing in their scrubs and masks to glare at “freedom-loving” citizens who spew insults as they rally for the economy to reopen. Nurses are taking to social media to convey the extremity of their situations: They talk about war zones, about titrating a dozen IV drips while troubleshooting fluky ventilators, all without reliable stockpiles of supplies.
The piece relies fairly heavily on Elizabeth Lalasz, a Chicago union steward for National Nurses United (NNU). Lalasz herself was out of the clinical setting for 18 days with Covid-19, which she says she got because of inadequate PPE; she calls the nurses “cannon fodder.” The report explains that Lalasz became a nurse in her 40s, after watching an oncology nurse caring for her dying father advocate successfully for him “against a phalanx of male superiors” to go home to die, 35 years ago. Presumably that means a group of physicians; of course, they were not “superiors,” but surely they had far more power, so that sounds like some impressive advocacy.
And Lalasz does some advocacy too, pointing to the dysfunctional U.S. health care system, which even before Covid-19 “left front-line workers feeling burned out, with high rates of attrition and suicide.” The reporters also talk to nurses at the California hospital that suspended 10 nurses for refusing to care for Covid-19 patients without an N95 mask. One of the suspended nurses, Jack Cline, explains why the surgical masks are inadequate, regardless of CDC guidelines saying otherwise. The piece also describes the recent White House protest by NNU members seeking more PPE for health workers—over 230,000 of whom have been infected with the virus, and 600 nurses have died from it. One protesting nurse was Charles Dalrymple, who spends hours caring for Covid-19 patients in negative-pressure rooms, in some cases helping them say goodbye to family through virtual means. He held a sign saying “20 SECONDS WON’T SCRUB THE BLOOD OFF YOUR HANDS,” with “HERO” in quotes. Why the quotes? Dalrymple said:
I feel that it’s being used to placate us — gaslighting this entire situation. A ‘we signed up for this’ kind of thing. But we didn’t. We didn’t sign up to go into a room without proper gear. . . . They can’t be throwing this word around just to make it seem like, ‘Oh, it’s okay that they’re dying. It’s because they’re heroes.’
Right. Nurses have always faced the virtuous-angel narrative, in which they get lip service but are expected to endure abuse and resource shortages without complaint. But now, the “hero” narrative seems to be functioning in a somewhat similar way for everyone on the Covid-19 front lines. If we call them heroes enough, and have the Blue Angels fly overhead to say thanks, then apparently it’s OK that we are still not giving them the PPE, tests, and other supplies they need.
On the whole, because of the detail about what nurses actually do, the material about the history of nursing, and the reporting on nursing advocacy—particularly the PPE protests—the piece is an unusually valuable one in the Covid-19 category. We thank those responsible.
I want to revisit a time that made me happy. I invite you to look back to a moment that brought you joy, too. Find what you can to feed your soul and rejuvenate your body so you can participate in finding the solutions to our current troubles. Take a break in this time of the Pandemic and Black Lives Matter to temporarily distance yourself from the daily bombardment of negative news.
It is a time that I truly hope is not a moment but a movement. May we all keep the movement alive until we have made lasting changes.
I remember how I felt on a lovely June day in 2017 when I visited the North Carolina Museum of Art and joined the “Ladies in Sequined Dresses and Sneakers” from New York that led us through the art galleries marching and stepping up to the music of the Bee Gees: Staying Alive. Ironic title, isn’t it?
I hope that the video at the end of this post lifts your spirits.
A Little Music and Movement Can Make You See Things Differently
Originally published June 6, 2016
Yesterday, I went to the North Carolina Art Museum at 10 a.m. to move to music.
Two women led, followed by a man in a suit holding an open laptop channeling the songs that were mostly by the Bee Gees. The women, in sequined dresses and sneakers, stomped, marched, trotted in time with the music. Thirteen women and two men, ranging in age from 20 to 70 plus, followed behind, mimicking the women’s movements. We didn’t talk.
I felt exhilarated racing through the empty museum with music bouncing off the walls surrounded by other exuberant people. The moves were not stressful. I did most of them except balancing on one leg and I stopped halfway through the jumping jacks.
The group stopped intermittently in front of a piece of art: statue, still life, portrait, and continued to move/exercise in place. Short inspirational narratives, previously taped by Maira Kalman, punctuated the music. Normally, when I visit a museum, I would gaze at the art in quiet contemplation. This time my mind and body seemed as one, absorbing the stimuli transmitted from the environment, my thoughts suspended.
When the two women dropped to the floor, I felt as if someone turned off the lights. Lying among my fellow participants with arms and legs outstretched, I realized that fifty minutes had flown by.
Now the day after, the residual glow from yesterday remains with me.
My new goal is to have more days where I step out of the ordinary.
Madame X, meet Ladies in Sequined Dresses and Sneakers. For “The Museum Workout,” which starts a four-week run on Jan. 19, Monica Bill Barnes and Anna Bass, Everywoman dancers of deadpan zaniness, guide tours of the Metropolitan Museum of Art before public hours, leading light stretching and group exercises as they go. Recorded commentary by the illustrator Maira Kalman, who planned the route, mixes with Motown and disco tunes. Might raised heart rates and squeaking soles heighten perception?
As I write my second book, which is about the home visits I have made over the years, I am resurrecting memories from my mind and the pages of my journals. Today’s post shows a time when I didn’t use common sense and how home visits can be fraught with danger.
One day in early fall, on my drive back to the hospital after making all my scheduled home visits, I found myself passing by a patient’s apartment on the westside of Chicago. Since I was ahead of schedule, I decided to drop in, unannounced. I had the time. My patient had a caregiver: a tall, muscular man who always opened the door to the first-floor apartment wearing a long blond wig and thick make-up. Despite his flamboyant appearance, he gave competent care to his charge: a bed-bound, uncommunicative middle-aged man with multiple sclerosis. An exotic array of visitors wandered in and out of the apartment. My patient’s mother, strikingly average looking compared to the rest of the visitors, lived in rooms above her son’s and was often present when I came. However, this day I walked into an unlocked and empty apartment. Only my patient, lying in bed in the darkened bedroom, was present.
Neither the caregiver, nor the patient’s mother, or anyone else familiar to me entered the apartment while I was there. However, as I finished with my evaluation, a man opened the unlocked apartment door. He wasn’t anyone I had seen before. My patient smiled at him knowingly.
The man removed his jacket and tossed it on the sofa. We introduced ourselves. His eyes moved down my body. Acutely aware of the precarious situation I was in—alone in that apartment with a strange man and unhelpful patient—a band tightened around my chest.
“I’m just leaving,” I said as I promptly packed up my nursing bag.
Safely back in my car, my breathing heavy and my hands shaking, I chastised myself for making this impulsive visit. No one back at the office knew where I was. It was a time before cell phones. What If something had happened to me? I didn’t want to think of that. I never again made an unscheduled home visit.
Sometime after that impromptu visit, at a nursing conference, I sat fixated as another home health nurse told a story about the time that she had made a scheduled visit. She rang her patient’s doorbell. He didn’t answer. It was later that she found out he had been murdered. And in hearing more detail, she discovered that the murderer had likely been in the house the exact time she was ringing the bell. Good thing the door wasn’t unlocked.
My Blog, Nursingstories.org, was selected by Nurse Buff: Nursing Humor & Lifestyle Blog as one of the best 100 Nursing Blogs and/or Websites in 2020. While I am honored with this selection, I am also so impressed that we nurses are now publishing our stories on the internet in impressive numbers.
Rather than add an URL I am listing all 100 on my site for your review.
Why It Matters: The Nursing Site specializes in posting about the latest topics regarding the nursing profession, boasting a wealth of content available for multiple different audiences such as newly licensed nurses, student nurses, and even seasoned or veteran nurses.
Great Read: “Healthy Eating for Nurses Who Work Long Hours” is a great article for nurses who may be neglecting a healthy diet because of their long work hours or erratic schedules. It also talks about how nurses should also prioritize taking care of themselves in addition to taking care of others.
Why It Matters: Elizabeth Scala is a nurse who is confident in her knowledge regarding nurse burnout. She is also a Nurse’s Week online program host as well as a bestselling author who often partners with nursing schools and associations in order to help bring about a positive change in the nursing field.
Great Read:“The Physical Benefits of Positive Thinking” talks about how important it is for nurses to think positively and the various tangible benefits that could come as a result of that. Some examples of this are patient pill compliance, appreciative inquiry, and other general physical benefits such as lower stress levels and better cardiovascular health.
In blue scrubs and a floral fanny pack, UNC nurse Grace Cindric has become the hero we need right now.
In late March, News & Observer photographer Robert Willett snapped a photo of Cindric screening visitors heading into the UNC Medical Center Emergency Department, separating those complaining of coronavirus-related symptoms and everyone else.
In the photo, there’s a swagger in Cindric’s stride, a steely resolve in her sunglasses and respirator mask. In a sleeve of tattoos, there’s a friendly-looking panda staring out from her arm.
“I woke up the next morning, and it was everywhere,” Cindric said. “I first heard from my friend who posted it on Reddit; they said, ‘Fair warning, this got bigger than I expected. … You’re a meme now.’”
Since it was published, the photo has made the rounds on Reddit and Twitter, inspiring dozens of Photoshopped images depicting Cindric in heroic poses. In one a red cape billows behind her, in another she appears on the cover of a fictional video game called COVID-19.
“It was very strange at first. I was like ‘This is too much attention,’” Cindric said. “But I’ve accepted it, and I’m just rolling with it.”
A SYMBOL FOR OUR TIMES
She is the Badass Nurse. A meme, yes, but also a symbol, a face of the nurses and doctors fighting on the front lines of the coronavirus outbreak. As coronavirus cases mount in North Carolina and across the nation, as citizens panic-buy groceries and avoid their neighbors, Cindric wears scrubs like body armor, with a walkie-talkie on her belt.
To many commenting on the photo online, Cindric represents the heroism of medical professionals putting themselves between the public and the pandemic.
“I think it represents something bigger,” Cindric said. “It’s good that people are starting to see doctors and nurses out here in the middle of everything, doing this work. It’s a fun picture, it’s not terribly serious, but it represents what we’re doing. We’re all putting ourselves in harm’s way to stop this.”
Battling a pandemic is not exactly what Cindric imagined nursing would be like. The UNC-Greensboro grad has been a nurse for four years, the last two spent in UNC’s emergency room. She said she got into nursing to help the community and jumped in the emergency room for its variety.
“As an emergency room nurse, you’ve signed up to do anything,” Cindric said. “The task changes all the time, you never know what you’re walking into. … It’s a little bit of everything, and you have to kind of be a jack of all trades.”
‘COMMUNITY RALLYING BEHIND US’
Cindric said the coronavirus outbreak has escalated everything, that guidelines and roles are constantly changing, that the job she thought she knew feels like it changes by the hour. But she said she feels the community supporting their work, that people send meals and well wishes.
With the photo, Cindric said she’s feeling love and support flowing in from around the world.
“We feel the community rallying behind us,” Cindric said. “We knew the work we’re doing was important before, but we feel the respect from the community. They bring us food and send us messages. The outpouring really makes you appreciate the work you’re doing.”
The last day of Nurses Week ends today on Florence Nightingale’s Birthday: May 12.
Would Flo be surprised that a special day, May 6, had been dedicated to nurses in 1982, and in 1990, that day grew into a full week that ended on her birthday? Would she be pleased that the World Health Organization (WHO) has designated 2020 as “The Year of the Nurse and Midwife” in honor of her 200th birth anniversary? Would she be happy to learn that this 2020 designation is significant because WHO is promoting nursing education that will increase the numbers of nurses and midwives in order to strengthen Universal Health Coverage?
What would Flo think of the modern nurses’ role in this Pandemic? Would she be reminded how she, during the Crimean War, campaigned for better care of the sick and wounded soldiers and for a higher standard of hygiene, which saved countless lives? I bet she would be proud to see that nurses are still campaigning for better conditions for their patients. And that they are speaking out for safe working conditions for all health care workers.