a fake smile is cheap.
nurses do it all the time. it is called fake not because it is not real, but because sometimes, there are more reasons not to smile.
i work with nurses whose lives resemble, if not exceed the unpredictable tales of a daytime soap opera. so what if the divorce papers are waiting to be signed? D still smiled. so what if a nephew was on the evening news, after he was found dead in his closet, because at 15, he decided to take his own life by putting a rope on his neck, K still smiled. so what if both the kids have ADHD and their dad is nowhere, T still smiled. after all, it’s not the patient’s fault, nor it is his problem if a nurse’s life is in shambles, right? what happens at home, stays at home. the patients need to be cheered up, they will be cheered up. that’s part of the job.
unlike some of my colleagues, my life is not soap opera material. i only resort to fake smiling when my patience is being tested. i am not required to do it often, but i have done it a few times i actually am getting good at it. to be honest, i am getting so good at it that i sometimes feel like i deserve an oscar.
C tested my patience to the roof. a 19 year old female with chronic pancreatitis and crohns disease, she is in our unit about three to four times a year.
on top of severe pain, nausea and diarrhea, C was red as a lobster. her arms, upper chest and legs were so badly burned, even breathing hurt. rolling her eyes, the day nurse told me that C swore that she sat on the beach for only a few minutes.
C expected me to have super powers. when she asks for her pain and nausea meds, she wants them NOW! trying to anticipate her needs, i would have the meds in my pocket before i go to her room; but C could not tolerate the fact that it takes me a few seconds more to draw the meds and actually push it through her vein. when i don’t have the meds in my pocket, because i’m not THAT competent, C demands that she is given the meds STAT by permanently pressing the call light. i hate to be mean, but she made me sick.
in fantasyland, C is my only patient. in the real world, where i happen to live, i have another one. she is 92, was previously bleeding, and i was giving blood transfusion. i was also waiting for another patient who might need blood transfusion after throwing up fresh blood for 2 days.
young as she is, C insisted to live in fantasyland. she threw me over the edge, but still, i lavished her with my award winning fake smiles. after all, she was still my patient, she needed to be cheered up.
however, there is such a law called “supply and demand”. as the night unfold, the demand dramatically increased. my jaw hurt, the smile was beginning to look ugly. shortage was apparent.
at midnight, my acting talents flew out of the window.
i went to the restroom and had a little talk with May. but alas, May has left the building.
a nationwide fake smile shortage was declared. and C, bless her whining heart, was declared the sole victim.
at 0245, C called.
C: “i really need to pee and i need help. oohhhhh. my legs are killing me…”
Me: “okay, how do you want me to help?”
C: “i don’t know, i guess you can hold my hands or something….ooooh oh oh… or help me with my legs…but give me my pain and nausea meds first…”
Me: “okay…”
C: “did you give me both the pain and nausea med?”
Me: “i did… are you ready to get up now?”
C: “no no no no NO! don’t touch my arms, they hurt soooo bad…oh oh oh.”
Me: “i’ll help you with your legs then…”
C: “not my legs…DON’T TOUCH THEM!”
Me: “uh, okay, how about i lift your gown so it doesn’t touch your skin?”
C: “i don’t know…uh uh uh….no…DON’T touch anything….
i folded my arms to my chest, tapped my foot to the music in my head, and watched C maneuver her way to the commode. i breathed a sigh of relief when i heard the tinkle.
after an agonizing 15 minutes, she was back in bed. without my help. i’d hate it if she asked me “what part of DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING don’t you understand?” so i stood there like a lazy idiot, watching her shiver.
C: “can you SLOWLY put the sheet over me?”
Me: “did you put sunblock on? i’m just curious…”
not that it matters, but hey, studies show that small talk can be a good pain distraction. okay, it’s not a legitimate study, i obvioulsy just made it up.
C: “no, we didn’t have any, besides, me and my mom only sat on the beach for an hour and a half. you see, we had to go to a party that afternoon, you think we can stay that long in the beach if we have to go to a party that afternoon?”
(i don’t know. do i look like i know all the answers here?)
C: “when will my burn get better? it’s been like this for a week now, and those creams the doctor gave me, it makes it worse. i’m not putting them on again. ever.”
(oh, don’t put the creams, you have the right to refuse anything you know. me? i have the right to remain silent!)
C: ” oh oh ooohhh. can you give me my pain and nausea meds NOW?”
nah, a fake smile is NOT cheap.
