Florence Nightingale Pledge
I solemnly pledge myself before God and in the presence of this assembly, to pass my life in purity and to practice my profession faithfully. I will abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous, and will not take or knowingly administer any harmful drug. I will do all in my power to maintain and elevate the standard of my profession, and will hold in confidence all personal matters committed to my keeping and all family affairs coming to my knowledge in the practice of my calling. With loyalty will I endeavor to aid the physician in his work, and devote myself to the welfare of those committed to my care. I am a Nurse, Anyway
They may stare at you with anger in their eyes, Look at them with compassion anyway. They might spit on you while feeding them, Feed and nourish them anyway. They shout and ignore you when you talk, Talk and be with them anyway. They can bite you when you tuck them in bed, Tuck them in to keep them warm for the night anyway. They can slap you when you lean closer to listen to them, Hear them out anyway. They can kick you while trying to jump out of bed, Catch them and keep them from falling anyway. They may stain your favourite trendy uniform from incontinence, Wash and keep them clean anyway. They may want to walk in the middle of the night while the rest of the patients are in deep sleep, Walk with them and keep them safe anyway. They may consume your time by asking same questions repeatedly, Re-orient them repeatedly and look in their eyes with a smile anyway. They may share to you their past stories in the middle of your busy shift, Touch them and spend a fraction of your time anyway. They may be quiet laying still in bed for hours with tears in their eyes, Wipe their tears and ask them their favourite stories anyway. Whenever they have a severe cancer pain, Give their meds, then hold their palms tight and pray for them anyway. Laugh with them when they are so happy (a good laugh from the heart). Sing with them even though the lyrics are unfamiliar and old fashioned. Dance with them when they are so excited or just to cheer them up. Write this in the tablet of your heart . They’ve been a strong, intelligent and beautiful persons in their prime years and now they’re approaching their final days… In the long run, that’s why NURSES are called, ANGEL of the Sick Room, Anyway. By Sherrylyn Vergara – Vivero BSN, RN. Nursing is an Art ~ By Florence Nightingale Nursing is an art: and if it is to be made an art, It requires an exclusive devotion as hard a preparation, as any painter´s or sculptor´s work; for what is the having to do with dead canvas or dead marble, compared with having to do with the living body, the temple of God´s spirit? It is one of the Fine Arts: I had almost said, the finest of Fine Arts. |
Transcultural Nurses' Prayer
~ By Dr. Madeleine Leininger
Divine spiritual master; help us to make transcultural-nursing care meaningful and relevant to those served worldwide. Help nurses to facilitate transcultural understanding, peace, healing, and love among people of diverse and similar cultures in the world. Where there is hatred, fear, prejudice, racism, or violence, help nurses to lessen or remove these barriers through the use of transcultural caring knowledge and skills. In all of our endeavors, let nurses be guided by knowledge reflecting transcultural sensitivities, compassion, understanding, and other differential caring skills to promote holistic healing of cultural wounds, pain, or human suffering. We are, indeed, grateful that you fashioned the universe with diversities so that we could come to your creative design in nature, and in different environmental contexts. For these gifts we are most grateful, but we need your continued help so that the full meaning, goals, and practices of transcultural nursing will be realized for your glory and for the benefit of all beings worldwide. A Young Girl Still Dwells What do you see, nurse, what do you see? Are you thinking when you look at me? A crabbed old woman, not very wise, Uncertain of habit with far away eyes, Who dribbles her food and makes no reply When you say in a loud voice - "I do wish you'd try." Who seems not to notice the things that you do, And forever is losing a stocking or shoes. Who resisting or not, lets you do as you will, With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill. Is that what you're thinking, is that what you see? Then open your eyes, nurse. You're not looking at me. I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still, As I move at your bidding, eat at your will. I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother, Brothers and sisters who love one another. A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet, Dreaming that soon a love she'll meet. A bride at twenty, my heart gives a leap, Remembering the vows that I promised to keep. At twenty-five now I have young of my own, Who need me to build a secure, happy home. A woman of thirty, my young now grow fast, Bound together with ties that should last. At forty, my young sons have grown up and gone, But my man's beside me to see I don't mourn. At fifty once more babies play round my knee, Again we know children, my loved one and me. Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead, I look at the future, I shudder with dread. For my young are all rearing young of their own, And I think of the years and the love that I've known. I'm an old woman now and nature is cruel, 'Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool. The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart, There is a stone where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells, And now again my bittered heart swells. I remember the joys, I remember the pain, And I'm loving and living life over again. I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast, And accept the stark fact that nothing can last. So open your eyes, nurse, open and see, Not a crabbed old woman, Look closer - see me! ~ Author's name unknown ~ |
Another Goodbye ~
By Jennifer Huff, LPN
I said goodbye to you today; In my own quiet way. A hidden tear was shed; Tribute to the life you led. Empty chair, an unspoken reminder of you; Too soon to be filled by a patient so new. Numb to the pain of so many goodbyes; Sorrow hidden, secretly brushing tears from my eyes. You joined the others who paved the way for you; The leader, the song-man, the feisty one, too. The one who decided that he'd just had enough; Saying farewell to you all has been so tough. I like to imagine you are all gathered up there; Playing poker, having feasts, so many stories to share. No more restrictions on fluid and food; No longer chained to disease, it is as it should. Those of us left behind, keep your memory alive; Working hard every day to help others survive. Chair no longer empty, a new soul to tend; Hidden tears suppressed, a new beginning to the end. The Cute Little Lady in The Pink Sweater ~ By Dawn Maselli, RN They can take my meal away before I'm done, They can talk to me like I am dumb. They can refer to me as a "Feeder", Fluff me up to make me look neater. They talk about me like I'm not Here, They address me as "honey" "cutie" and "dear". But there are things they can't do to me, As they insult my dignity. Oh there are things they can't do to me, They can't take away my memories. My roles through this life cement my presence, With withered mind they call senescence. I am rich in culture, wisdom and knowledge, That medical people can't learn in college. I am a mother, a sister, a historian, a wife, I have mastered many roles throughout my life. I created warm meals in my day, I wiped my children's tears away. I cared for a close knit family, Who look up to and value me. And now I master another role, Dependent patient with golden soul. If just one of "them" would sit with me, I'd share with them this history. And if one would stay awhile, I'd teach them that I'm still God's child. They are so busy this I know, I have aged and have gotten slow. This I must share in written word, I may not be seen but I will be heard. They say I'm anxious, noisy and loud, This life has taught me not to be too proud. I am too many things to capture in a letter, I am so much more than the lady in the pink sweater. If you've listened from the start, I may help you find your heart. |
Look Closer - A Nurse's Reply ~ By Liz Hogben This was sent in by Mrs B Boyle. I came across this poem, when my mother was in the nursing home it was place in the rooms there, believe it's a reply to the poem, "A Young Girl Still Dwells" What do we, you ask, what do we see? Yes, we are thinking when looking at thee! We may seem to be hard when we hurry and fuss, But there's many of you and too few of us. We would like far more time to sit by you and talk, To bath you and feed you and help you to walk, To hear of your lives and the things you have done; Your childhood, your husband, your daughter, your son, But time is against us, there's too much to do, Patients too many and nurses too few. We grieve when we see you so sad and alone, With nobody near you, no friends of your own. We feel all your pain, and know of your fear , That nobody cares now your end is so near. But nurses are people with feelings as well, And when we're together, you'll often hear tell Of the dearest old Gran in the very end bed, And the lovely old Dad, and the things that he said. We speak with compassion and love and feel sad, When we think of yours and the joy that you've had. When the time has arrived for you to depart, You leave us behind with an ache in our heart. When you sleep the long sleep, no more worry or care, There are other old people, and we must be there. So please understand if we hurry and fuss-- There are many of you and too few of us. |
“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel”
~ Maya Angelou ~
~ Maya Angelou ~