Got called to the house of a soon-to-be frequent patient we'll transport. This call was in the wee hours of the morning so I'm already worn out as I hadn't gone to sleep yet. The call was for "altered level of consciousness." Those are those kinds of calls that you never know what to expect since that can be caused by a myriad of things.
When I got there the BLS crew was already in the house attending to the patient and finding out a brief history of what was going on. As I walked in to the very clean and neatly kept house I was met by the patient's son who was about my age, maybe a couple years older. He kindly directed me to the back of the house, to the master bedroom where his ill father lay on the bed.
So I made my way through the halls and found the bedroom, brightly lit with nothing out of place, the carpet neatly vacuumed and the furniture glowing from a recent polishing. Smells of a faint vanilla from an unseen air freshener emanated throughout the room. Pictures of kids and grand kids and old wedding pictures dominated the top of a large chest of drawers detailing to all who entered that this couple loved seeing their family in print every time they walked in and out of their room. The bed was neatly made and creased ever so slightly at the top edges, save for an elderly gentleman laying horizontal across it with his head square on one of the huge down pillows. This man had been recently diagnosed with leukemia and was a clergyman, according to his wife. He hadn't been feeling too well recently and had been to the doctor's office a lot as a result. Tonight wasn't any different for him but he just had a "far away look" in his eyes, according to his mate, that "just didn't look right."
As I began peppering her with questions to find out a little more extensive history to put together I stopped myself and realized just how upset she truly was. Tears were welling up in her eyes, her upper lip quivered as she spoke, her eyes constantly on her spouse of 57 years as he was being attended to by the BLS crew, and her left knee was bouncing ever so slightly with worry and apprehension.
I looked behind me to make sure the crew was doing all right and to see if they needed my help. They all were doing fine. I returned my attention to the wife and politely apologized to her for not introducing myself. I offered my name and hand and she returned both to me with a slight smile and look up in to my eyes. I slowed down my questioning and lowered my voice just a little bit for her. I wasn't yelling but quieting things down a little usually helps tone the entire scene to a bearable level. The crew loaded our gentleman on the cot with assistance and out they went.
I stayed behind.
This wonderful, yet truly worried woman would be following behind shortly to the hospital with her son. The crew was fine without me so I offered an ear and a shoulder to this man's wife. They had been together for 57 wonderful years, built a wonderful family with lots of visible grandchildren in the pictures. I got to know a couple of their names and a smile came out as each of them was told to me. I knelt down on one knee so she could look down on me and not up. I wasn't "above" her and I don't like being perceived like that. I'm here to help and have been for 23 years, less than half the time these two people had been married.
As I asked her simple questions and talked to her about her family I got several pats on the shoulder, small smiles, and lots of tears. This woman was terrified of losing her husband. She questioned why he was now sick with this disease at his age. Why now? Why him? What was she going to do without him? She was truly frightened by that prospect and rightfully so. I stayed and talked with her for a while and offered what positive, comforting words I could.
I left her in the care of her grown son to take her to the hospital. We left each other after having only met about 20 minutes prior with a wonderfully warm hug. It was one of those hugs that made me think I'd known the woman all my life because it was a genuine "thank you" hug, one that made me feel pretty good. It made me smile.
Not that we made everything all better but we were all there to help her and her husband. He wasn't feeling well and she needed a shoulder to cry on. More and more I realize that we, as caregivers, need to be more attentive to the family, bystanders, and friends of those we take care of who are sick or injured. They need care and attention just like the patient does, just not in the same sense.
We need to make sure we slow down and take the time to talk to them, speak to them on a level they can understand, show empathy and compassion, and let them know we'll do everything within our powers to help them both out. In this case is was something very simple; someone to talk to, someone to hold her hand, someone to lend a shoulder to cry on, and someone to receive an absolutely wonderful love-filled hug that merely said, "thank you."
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