I love to look at people’s hands. They are one of the most expressive parts of people. The wrinkles, age marks and scars tell a story. My mother recently received my great grandmother’s wedding ring as a gift and now wears it frequently instead of her own wedding band. “I can just see [this ring] on her hand”, she says to me with such fondness. In turn, I have started to take special note of her hands. The specific combination of rings (including my great grandmother’s), bracelets, watches and nail polish are all very much “my mother”. No other woman wears the stylish yet quirky combination of jewelry the way she does. I never quite appreciated how special this was to me until I received our wedding pictures. Our photographers captured this beautiful moment where I am holding my mother’s hands, exactly as I have known them my whole life, complete with scars, skin color, jewelry and all. I often find myself drawn into this picture. Morbid as it may seem, these are the details of her I will remember of her long after she is gone.
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| Copyright Ulmer Studios Photography |
Hands connect people. When I started dating my husband, one of the first things I noticed was how well our hands fit together, almost like they were made in kind. Although I had known him for years, this was new. Aha! INSTANT CONNECTION. People hold hands for a variety of reasons: affection, support, and fear just to name a few. Holding hands is always, without exception a voluntary activity, requiring mutual consent from both parties. This may seem trivial but, as a nurse, that last detail is the one I value the most.
Although nursing is caring, I find that often patients fight and resist the very care we are attempting to give. More often than you can imagine (if you’re not in nursing), we are restraining people for life and limb. I’ll never forget one night shortly after I graduated nursing school. I had an elderly gentleman as my patient, pleasant yet confused during the daytime, but increasingly agitated at night. Unfortunately, all of our usual attempts to deescalate situations only seemed to spur him on (presumably from an adverse reaction to a medication). With the night only half over, it took four of us to tackle him into restraints. Each one of us was holding a limb, me holding onto his wrist for dear life while he kicked one of my fellow nurses in the ribs. I thought to myself, “This is not what I signed up for when I decided to be a nurse”.
I wish I could tell you that these situations are rare, but unfortunately I can’t. Delirium, often caused by acute infection or medication, is one of the most frequent diagnoses I encounter on my medical floor. I have bribed, flirted and even held noses in attempt to get people to take necessary medications. I do this because it’s my job, and I do it hoping that when they come back to reality, it will be worth it to them. So, when I get the opportunity as a nurse to gently take someone’s hand and offer help, I have learned to appreciate it. It may be as small as helping a weak patient from the bed to a chair, but when the patient accepts my hand, well, it doesn’t seem so small anymore. These are the moments I thought of when I decided to be a nurse, the moments you are able to help someone in need. Someone wants help and (hallelujah!) I can provide it!
Sometimes we hold hands because we don’t know anything else to do. I’ll never forget a dear patient of mine that I met the day she received devastating news that she had end stage pancreatic cancer. She was a sweet, Christian woman overwhelmed with the gravity of her situation. Although I relish the opportunity to share faith and fellowship with someone, any of the words I had to offer were just regurgitating what she already knew. Any of the medical knowledge I had to offer was not what she needed. So I simply sat next to her on her hospital bed, held her hand, and listened to her process through her thoughts. It was one of the sweetest moments in my nursing career.
It’s amazing how such a simple gesture can mean so much. It offers help and accepts help. It comforts when there is nothing left to say. It forges little connections, and those are the sweet moments in life. And in nursing.
