Chapter 6
BACK AT THE CCU, Hope followed JoAnn around, observing patient care, participating whenever she was asked to, and absorbing as much information as she could. The morning flew by in the blink of an eye, and Hope walked numbly into the break room when her 15 minute reprieve came.
She poured a cup of coffee and sipped it slowly. As the image of Will came flooding back into her mind, she found herself sniffling and wiping her eyes.
Just then, Marjorie, one of the senior nurses on the unit, strolled into the break room. Hope turned away, rubbing the tears away so her colleague wouldn’t see her crying.
“Mind if I join you?” Marjorie asked.
“Sure,” Hope said, and forced a smile as her fellow nurse settled into the chair across the table.
Marjorie was one of the older nurses on the unit, with hair as white as her skin was dark. With age came wisdom, Hope knew, and Marjorie had a look about her, like she was the real brains of the unit; like she had it all figured out, but wasn’t in a rush to let anyone know. She seemed humble and kind, and was always smiling. Hope had liked her from the moment she met her.
“How’s everything going, sweetie?” Marjorie asked.
“Day two, so far so good.”
Marjorie arched an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah,” said Hope, wiping at her eyes once more.
“Seems like you might be a little upset. Anything you want to talk about?”
“Nah. Not really. It’s nothing.”
Marjorie stared at her, but didn’t speak. The longer she stared, the more Hope felt obliged to say something.
“Alright,” she relented. “A friend of mine had a very bad wreck last night. He’s in the ICU in a coma.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” Marjorie said, leaning across the table and resting a hand on Hope’s arm.
“And I’m just a little stressed over work. Second day on the job and I feel like I’ve ruffled a lot of feathers already. I’ve screwed up more than I’ve done right.”
“I seriously doubt that,” said Marjorie. “What makes you think you’ve screwed up?”
Hope frowned. “The blinds,” she said. “I didn’t know about the blinds until I came to work here. Yesterday, when I went with JoAnn to check on Mr. Smith, I tried to close the blinds, and she just about blew the roof off the building. Then I went to see Will – my friend in the ICU. He’s a real outdoorsy type and I thought it would be best for him if the blinds were open, but when I asked, his nurse just about bit my head off.”
“Oh, the blinds,” Marjorie smiled. “You know what that’s all about, don’t you?”
“I’ve been told it’s about trying to help the soul either stay where it belongs, or move along to the afterlife if it needs to go… something like that.”
“Sure, that’s what we all say. It’s a tradition here, but let me tell you what’s really behind it,” Marjorie said, leaning back in her chair. “Control.”
“Control?” Hope asked.
“Absolutely. It’s the desperate need we all have for control…especially when a situation is out of our hands. As a nurse, you give the best care you can, but there’s a limit to what you can do. Some nurses – lots of nurses, actually, don’t want to admit that limit. So we do silly things like open or close the blinds, wanting to believe that it’s really going to make a difference.”
“Hm,” Hope said, “That actually makes sense.”
“Of course it does! Trust me, I’ve been around long enough to know what I’m talking about.” Then Marjorie lowered her voice to a whisper, as if to share a precious secret. “And I have a little advice for you on your second day on the job.”
“What’s that?” Hope asked.
“Quit worrying about the blinds. Doesn’t make a bit of difference if they’re closed or open. Focus instead on keeping yourself open.”
Hope’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Keep yourself open,” she repeated. “Every part of you. They taught you to keep your eyes, your ears and your mind open. Stay observant and sharp, and use those critical thinking skills you learned in nursing school. Am I right?”
Hope nodded.
“Well they left out a couple of things,” said Marjorie. “You need to keep your heart open, too. You’re dealing with life and death situations, every single day. There are going to be some highs and lows, and some really intense emotions that go along with this job. You need to be able to open yourself up and embrace all of it, and I do mean ALL of it. Even the uncertainties you’ll face day in and day out. Especially the uncertainties.”
“Wait a second,” Hope said, “in nursing school, they harped on us about the dangers of getting too attached and too emotional. We spent forever talking about professional boundaries…”
Marjorie cut her off. “I’m not saying anything about professional boundaries, dear. I’m talking about feelings…and we all have feelings, whether we admit to them or not. Sure, You can’t let yourself feel so much for the patient that you become dysfunctional. That’s the fastest way to burnout. But at the other end of the spectrum is that person who never allows herself to feel, never allows herself to absorb the human part of nursing. It’s a caregiving profession, so how in the world can you go to work every day and pretend you don’t care? Good news is, there’s a lot of room in between those two extremes. You’ll figure out where you belong as time goes on. But you start right here, Hope.” Marjorie tapped a finger over her heart. “When your heart is heavy and you need a good cry, you let it come. Don’t bottle it up, alright? Allow yourself to feel it. Let your heart do its job.”
Hope nodded. She was surprised at how easily the tears sprang to her eyes again, as if they had been waiting on permission, and Marjorie had granted it.
“Keep your heart open,” Marjorie said once more, “and keep your mouth open.”
“My mouth?”
“Right. Not literally; don’t go running around the unit with your mouth gaping open or you’ll look like a fool. And don’t go spreading gossip either – that’s a popular interpretation of ‘open mouth’ among lots of nurses, and it doesn’t help anyone. Open mouth just means that you need an outlet. A way to express yourself. All that you let into that open heart needs to be able to come back out once you’ve felt it, thought about it, or otherwise dealt with it. Some may call it venting. Some call it therapy. Whatever it is, you’ve got to have a sounding board.”
“So what do you do to let it all out?”
Marjorie smiled. “Here, I’ll show you!” She rose from her seat and walked to her locker in the far corner of the break room. Marjorie opened the lock and pulled out an album that was so full of pages and inserts, it was overflowing. A few random sheets of paper fell to the floor. She scooped them up and placed the bulging monstrosity in front of Hope.
Opening the big book, Hope found handwritten notes from patients, dried flowers pressed between the pages, and photos galore. One was of the entire CCU unit in Halloween costumes, with Marjorie dressed as Raggedy Ann. Another photo was of Marjorie hugging a woman in a wheelchair. On the page next to it was an obituary clipped from the local paper, and the program from a funeral service. In all of the margins and the spaces between the pictures, Marjorie had written little notes to herself. The pages were filled with words, sentences, song lyrics, quotes, hand-drawn sunshines and smiley faces, and also some rain clouds and sad faces. Hope laughed when she spied an angry face with smoke rising from the top of the head.
“That was a bad day,” Marjorie chuckled.
“It looks like it.” Hope spent several more minutes perusing the scrapbook, then slid it across the table to Marjorie. “So this is your sounding board. A big scrapbook.”
“It’s a great way to let it all out,” Marjorie said with a grin. “I can unload whatever is on my heart and mind, and the book absorbs it all. No judgment whatsoever.”
“Wow,” said Hope. “I like it, Marjorie. Thanks for sharing t
his with me.”
“You’re welcome. Do you have a plan now? For how to stay open?”
“Actually… yes, I do.” Her mind was already hard at work, crafting a poem, as it so often did.
Maybe it was time, Hope realized, to pull out her old notebooks and start putting those words on paper again.
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