What Nurses Really Want

In my former life, I wiled away my days teaching or writing, or thinking about things I would teach and things I would write. If I wasn’t doing anything creative, I was working out how to get more people to teach and write for - in other words, more people who would pay me to do so. It was a hard slog but I loved the freedom it gave me outside of chasing down people to pay their goddamned fees. Indeed, it was a fine thing to be able to sit back and absorb anything at all that might work its way into a play: the whys and wherefores of ordinary every day people doing ordinary every day things. I loved to get inside the head of a cranky old fart and see what all the hot air was really about, or work with a timid character on the extraordinary arc of a life-changing event perhaps. It didn’t have to be dramatic for me to find theatre in it. That is what writing is, I think; observing apparent normality and finding something extraordinary in it. 
These days I spend about thirty five hours a week in the company of nurses. In exchange I get a regular salary (imagine!), an inside view of a vastly different world, and sometimes, the opportunity to find out what makes my colleagues tick. What do nurses really want? I asked this question one quiet Saturday afternoon (although, in the same superstitious way an actor will say ‘break a leg’ instead of ‘good luck’, a nurse will curse you for saying ‘it’s so quiet today.’) Instead we mulled for a while over what nurses really want in terms of chocolate. If you’re gifting them after your stay in hospital, you should know that nobody actually likes Quality Street. That said, the following Monday a box of Quality Street was given and it didn’t last the hour. Heroes would be everyone’s top pick, according to the nursing coordinator. “Heroes for heroes” she chuckled to herself as she rummaged through a box of Celebrations. Ferrero Rocher also features highly - in fact, it’s my own contention that these champions of some dubious ambassador are in fact the number one sweet of choice, and that is based on over a year’s observation on my ward. There have been days when I cursed the sheer amount of chocolate within an easy arm’s reach, and then there have been cold-turkey moments when I questioned why there was none to be found. It goes in waves, as far as I can gather, but if you do want to gift a particular nurse, put his or her name on it or it will be rifled and pilfered by the rest of us. Wine would be nice (although many of the non-Irish nurses don’t drink); food vouchers will bring great excitement; give ice-cream on a very hot day (Magnums, preferably).
Chocolate aside, nurses want you to ring the bell! We recently had a lovely lady on our ward who couldn’t bear the idea of ringing for someone to come and help her, so she would come out to the desk dragging her drip behind her. This meant of course, that a nurse had to drop whatever it was they were already doing to get her back to the safety of her bed, rather than attending the bell when they were free to do so. There is always concern over the risk of falling, and it makes everyone nervous. If you’re told to ring the bell, please: ring that bell! That said, you may be well able to get up and walk about, and so you should. Staying in bed all day long is an old-fashioned nursing notion, and not one that’s valued today. Get up, get washed, get dressed and get walking - your recovery will come sooner if you do. 

You’re in good hands with nurses, but there is a limit to what they can answer. If you have questions, write them down - if your nurse can’t give you a satisfactory answer, remember to ask your consultant when you see them. You will only see your consultant once a day - or sometimes, only once during your stay, so save the flack that you might give your nurse and tell the doctor to their faces if something displeases you. That is not to say that no-one wants to hear it, but patients can go into star-struck mode when they finally meet their consultant; they are all smiles and coyness, while your nurse has spent hours of his or her busy day trying to sort the issue for you. 

Finally - for now - it’s not a finite subject - but gentlemen please do cover up. I have personally seen more nonchalant hairy bums (and the rest) in the past year than any one girl should have to. Yes, you’re in a hospital, but that doesn’t mean nurses have a lackadaisical attitude to having “seen it all before”. And I’m not a nurse. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I took this job. I was dazzled by the idea of a regular wage, but these days, I’m being dazzled by someone’s crown jewels. Lads: buy a dressing gown! Close the bathroom door! Wash your hands before you hand over the chocolates. ​

Still though, it’s all part of a normal, everyday extraordinary week on a hospital ward. And did I mention I get paid?