Florence Nightingale

I am not a Florence Nightingale. I admire people who have the ability to care for sick people, but it´s not for me. And this is funny thing, if you consider that up until about tenth grade, I wanted to be a doctor. Not one of those oddball “PhD”s, but a real medical doctor. I decided against it when I became aware of the practical limitations of that career choice. As I grew older, I realized that moving to different countries, as I had been doing up to that point, and wanted to do, well, pretty much for the rest of my life, meant going back to school to get a different license every time my residence changed. And although I loved school, I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready for that kind of educational commitment. At the same time, I also figured out that once I had decided to be say an oncologist, that is what I would be for the rest of my life. Since I could barely envision myself living anywhere, or doing the same thing for more than four years, this did seem like a good choice. When I ended up rooming with several med students in college, who were always talking about horrible attendings, annoying interns, and ornery patients, I definitely knew I did the right thing. And learned how to develop an iron stomach as a result of my roommates’ tendency to share their medical experiences over dinner.

However, with a husband, two kids, a dog, and a guinneapig, I, from time to time, have no choice but to play nurse (and hopefully do a better job than Florence Nightingale allegedly did). Fortunately, people in my family rarely get sick. As I mentioned this summer when I got sick, that was the first time in twelve years, and I can’t remember the last time husband-dear was laid up. I honestly believe I’ve spent more time dealing with sick pets than I have with sick people. If you ever need advice on how to feed a guinneapig using a syringe, or how to make a dog eat a pill, do let me know.

Today and yesterday, however, I hit the jackpot. Not only was Zoe due for her mandatory spaying, but husband-dear had to have minor surgery. Now I do have to admit that dealing with sick people, and animals, here in the US is a lot easier than it is in Europe. If there is something wrong with you here, a doctor will immediately suggest a solution. In the Netherlands, if you take a sick child to the doctor, they will, nine times out of ten, tell you to “wait and see”for a little while (“laten we het nog even aanzien”). Even if you, as a sick adult, go see a doctor with say a fever and a sore throat, they will most likely barely look at you, and tell you to go home and see how it develops on its own. Now I’m not arguing that we need to medicate every patient that comes in, but it’s nice to at least feel as though your doctor takes your issue seriously. Plus over here, you simply can’t afford to stay at home and see how it develops. I have ten sick days, and I refuse to spend them sitting around the house “seeing how it goes”, when I could be better in a day. But I digress.

Another thing I absolutely love about medical care in the US is the understanding that 1) sometimes you hurt, and 2) making the hurt go away is not a sin. I can still remember my mother’s doctor telling her that a slipped disc didn’t require additional pain medication, and the poor woman was sent home with ibuprofen. Again, I’m not about just drugging people up to the eyeballs, but why should women suffer through childbirth, sometimes for more than 24 hours, without someone suggesting a pain killer? Even the vets here seem to understand that. So when we took Zoe in yesterday morning, the vet recommended giving her an extra pain shot after the surgery. Great! Instead of a dog dragging butt, and whining, our puppy is as good as gold, chewing and playing as though she doesn’t have four sutures in her stomach. And husband-dear was not sent home with a batch of ibuprofen, nope, he was given some serious bona fide painkiller. He’s barely been using it, but it’s nice to know we have it.

In spite of all this though, at the end of the day, I’m still playing Florence Nightingale. I still have to make sure both patients are fed and watered, telling one not to lick their stitches, and ensuring the other one has taken their antibiotics (you decide who’s who). So I took a personal day yesterday and today, mainly because husband-dear is still too wobbly after having been out for several hours to be on his own, and someone had to pick the puppy up from the animal hospital. I spent the whole day preparing meals, making lemonade, fielding calls from friends and family, helping husband-dear put clean clothes on, keeping the dog from running around too much, making sure my husband is still comfortable. I have to say, I admire people who do this for a living. I mean, I love my family, but I can’t imagine doing this for people I don’t know. So kudos to all nurses, and let’s all pray and hope everyone is back on their feet soon!