Retrospective

It appears I’ve been studying my brother’s medical history this semester. In one of my classes called Soins de l’adulte (which essentially deals with disease management), we’ve focused, among others, on diabetes, renal failure and heart failure; all things that affected my brother. During my last class earlier this week, I couldn’t help but think how much I would love to get my hands on my brother’s medical records. I understand so much more about his diseases now and would love to see what was documented in his files. I realise that will never happen now that he has passed away, but I think it would be wonderful to get a better understanding of what he went through. I mean this not only from a nursing perspective, but also from a personal perspective. I’ve come to realise that I truly didn’t understand him or just how much his illness affected his personal life.

Sometimes, during class, I go over scenes from my past and think about what I know now versus then. I can see now why certain actions where taken and just how many times I was lied to or when medical staff did things that weren’t appropriate. None of them were major, but I still find it so fascinated just how naive I was. I wonder how things might have been different had I been a nurse when my dad or brother were dying.

When my father was diagnosed with a second bout of cancer 15 years ago, I had no information whatsoever. No one ever told me the extent of his disease and up until the last few weeks, I didn’t even realize he was dying. I know this wasn’t the staff’s fault in any way, but rather my dad (and maybe my mom) simply omitting details to protect their children. After going through hundreds of oncology files during my work this summer, I know there is no way my father didn’t know he was dying. Whether my Mom knew or not is uncertain. When my father was transferred to palliative care, I was told it was because there was no other bed available in the hospital. I believed them. Now that I realized there is generally a waiting list to get into palliative care, I feel like such a fool. He didn’t go there because there weren’t any beds… he went there to die.

I wonder if my experiences will have an impact on my work as a nurse?

Anyway, classes are done for the semester and will soon be starting my finals. Twelve days to go and I’ll be done my first semester in nursing! Crazy how time flies.