Oh, the wailing

The wailing, oh the wailing… May you never hear this sound. Much unlike sirens to a sailor, the wailing/moaning typically serves to drive away those who surround her. It is brought on without warning, although often it is relieved by feeding her. The wailing belies deep suffering, mental and physical. It is the wail of one who cannot adequately express herself through words; she speaks little, and the little that passes her lips is barely intelligible.

Because of this, most of her history is locked within her, though we’ve had a glimpse. One of the foreigners who gave her food, clothes and blankets through the winter traced her to the Hospice – yes, she lived outside all winter; yes, it is assume she has been raped and otherwise physically abused; no, the woman doesn’t know anything more.

I have a connection with this patient; we play peek-a-boo and she smiles with a radiance that rivals Prabaker. It seems she urinates less often in the bed for me than for the other nurses, so perhaps she favors me, too? It is this thinking, though, that has left me in my current position.

I am angry with her. She is a patient. I am her caregiver. But still I am angry with her. I want to shake her, yell at her, tell her how her behavior is unreasonable and irrational. After the connection I had worked at. After the tolerance I had shown for her crying and urinating in the bed! After I had massaged her skin with lotion and bought her a toothbrush! She threw my kindness, and her afternoon tea, back at me. And subsequently threw my second peace offering, dhal bhaat, across the room, too.

Perhaps, however, the tea wasn’t thrown at me, seeing how the dhal bhaat also went ‘cross the room at nothing in particular. Perhaps it wasn’t meant as a personal affront at all (and even if it were, shouldn’t be taken as such by the nurse from her patient). Perhaps I’ve fallen into the very human trap of taking another person’s actions too seriously?

It is difficult to distinguish the sincere qualities of mental difference (i.e. low intelligence, chemical imbalance, personality disorder) from those of manipulation. And they may not be mutually exclusive, thereby complicating matters. I think I missed the life lesson on distinguishing one from the other, and that is at least one lesson at which I regret my absence.

While I do not know what other life lessons I’ve missed, I do know that I will report for duty tomorrow at 0700 and need to treat this patient with at least the same care and consideration that I offer my other nine patients. I know that I must not take her behavior personally if I am to continue to be her nurse. And I know that she will again throw comestibles and I must be quicker on my feet.