Medical professional’s power to help or not help.
By: Laura Herrera
Tags: Chronic Disease, Compassion, Medical Professionals, Chronic Illness, Endometriosis

I’ve had a few experiences that still to this day bring tears to my eyes just thinking about them.

I’ve had a male nurse in the ER ask me if I was able to walk to the bathroom- as I tried my hardest to stand up while weak and my body going through shock from once again being in debilitating pain and vomiting over 15 times. I had no strength whatsoever as my head and now gray-skinned body fall limp stop me from trying to get out of the bed. He then said, “No we are not even going to try this anymore, I’m going to get you a portable toilet.” He comes back and lets me rest my entire limp body on him and he picks me up and places me on the toilet. My body was in so much pain at the moment and there was no strength in my bones. And for a moment I was embarrassed, but as I sat there and small tears rolled down my eyes I felt like I was shown dignity. This was not the first time I had been in the ER for the same thing. Many times before I had been able to walk to the bathroom and sometimes not. The times I had not- I was always given a bedpan. I absolutely hated that-but I would accept it as a must because I lacked the strength to walk. It was still however, humiliating each time. But this time it was different- this time someone had done something different for me. This time I was brought a toilet and was helped to be able to use that toilet. I felt like I was given a moment to feel human. I will never forget the compassion in that man’s eyes and tone of his voice and his actions of helping me on that portable toilet.

I can think of one ultrasound technician who asked me my story as she took the images (the disease I went through takes place in the female organs and it affected many of my organs as the disease bound many of organs together) and I was met with kind words and she told me she was so sorry I was going through this disease. I only can recall a few times that someone other than a doctor asked me my story. I can’t tell you how in those moments it helped me feel compassion.

One of my biggest moments I will never forget is the day after my last surgery. I was hardly able to walk due to the incision and post surgery pain in the stomach area. She came in for the first time that morning and introduced herself and had such a peaceful aura about her. She didn’t say much other than she was going to get me out of bed to take a bath. At that moment I said ok, but it wasn’t until she started helping me out of bed that I questioned, “How is this going to work, I can hardly walk due to the pain of the incision and surgery.” I didn’t say no though, because I felt so gross in my own body and knew a bath would make me feel better. She then slowly helped me into the bathroom in my room as I cringed and grimaced in pain. Every small painful step I took, I still questioned, “How am I going to shower when I get in there? I can’t stand on my own. How is this going to work?” When we finally made it into the bathroom she guided me to the toilet. She hardly spoke, but again there was just a peaceful aura around her. I also hardly spoke because I was in so much pain. She then helped me take off my clothes. I had never been fully naked in front of a nurse before, but in that moment I didn’t care and I didn’t feel embarrassed for some reason. I then realized she was going to help me bathe. Something I hadn’t realized was going to happen. She then grabbed a towel and placed soap and water on it. As I sat there exposed, vulnerable, helpless, tired, emotionally drained, physically spent -I welcomed her assistance because I couldn’t do it on my own. That nurse didn’t know my story. She didn’t know the years of debilitating pain and suffering I went through before that surgery. She didn’t know the countless doctors I went through or ER visits, or multiple failed treatments, or that I had traveled 8 hours from home to be there for this surgery (this being the second time in 9 months), that I had to take out a personal loan just to have the surgery. She didn’t ask questions, she was just physically there for me. As she bathed me and washed me with a cloth as I sat on a toilet in pain from surgery- with every stroke of that soapy cloth, I internally was healing. Broken pieces inside were mending. All the times I was either pushed away or said mean things to, or met with opposition from medical workers- it all disappeared even in just that fleeting moment. I remember thinking to myself, “Who could choose a profession where they have to wipe those that can’t wipe themselves? Could I do that? I don’t think I could-that takes a special beautiful selfless heart.”