Small Changes (part 2): Listening

It was my first time back inside a hospital since the start of the pandemic. There was a flurry of activity and yet the air felt as if it were dead. The words, “I’m f*cking done” were uttered under the breath of a nurse scurrying to answer a call light. The hallways were scattered with rubbermaid bins,as the supply of isolation carts for PPE were running thin. 

In an effort to conserve the hospital’s PPE inventory, their policy did not allow students or nursing instructors to care for patients who were COVID 19 positive. The unit, which was not a designated COVID unit, had twenty of its twenty five beds occupied by patients with the virus. I felt helpless as I could not answer call lights or assist the staff in any way.

As the semester progressed, I continued to watch the morale of staff wear thin. The O.R. and several labs/testing departments had closed and these nurses were floating up to the inpatient floors.  Nurses were being mandated to work extra shifts and come in on their days off. I witnessed many ‘seasoned’ nurses quit or take positions as travel nurses or in an outpatient setting, where they had more control over their schedule or a much larger salary.

When I feel overwhelmed, I begin to analyze and do something  in an attempt to solve or control the problem. At this specific time, I have no power to ‘fix.’ Hospitals are understaffed and overwhelmed. 

If I cannot ‘do’ or ‘fix’, can I ‘sit and feel?’  Can I apply the same tactics I have used with hospice patients and students, to the nurses who are providing care during this pandemic? So, I sat and I listened. And my students sat and they listened. And we bore witness to the fear and anger the nurses were experiencing. 

Theologian Henri Nouwen stated that ‘listening is a form of spiritual hospitality.’ In a state where I could do little else, I simply began to listen. Making space for our pain and grief is critical to our mental/emotional and spiritual health. Without it, burnout is almost inevitable. Years ago, I burned out as a hospice nurse solely due to feeling as if I had nowhere to go with my own pain. 

In this time of tremendous physical and emotional stress on nurses, and health care workers in general, simply listening is a gift we can give to one another. By providing space for nurses to share their stories, a small part of the pain is lifted, for they are not alone. I am not naive enough to think that this is all that is needed, but it is a small step… and a small step, taken by each of us, can move us in the direction of healing. 

“Though we cannot fix one another, we can connect and heal.”