The morning of that day began as Edurne expected. As she turned on the light in her office she was reminded of how much she missed seeing her patients face to face. That office that months ago used to be full of people, now looked dull and gray. In fact, it was just as he entered that he noticed that the plant that cheerfully adorned the shelf in front of the stretcher was limp and dry. He couldn't remember when was the last time he watered it.
The table was littered with untidy documents and two cups with the remains of cold coffee. Before beginning the work, the young woman proposed to bring order to her table. The new protocols that his superior had sent him that morning were mixed with older ones and a dozen pieces of paper, full of notes written in a blue ballpoint pen, covered the keyboard.
When picking up the cups, he tried to remember how many coffees he had the day before. That's why I couldn't sleep last night, she thought. She always attributed the sleep problems that she had been dragging for days to that drink that, according to her, gave her life.
After finishing this small task, he continued to open the window to ventilate a bit. Since he came to work at that Primary Care center, he always thought that he had been very lucky to have had that consultation. From the window a large grove of trees could be seen moving accompanied by a gentle breeze, typical of April mornings. Watching the trees move, she also remembered how much she missed walking outside.
She prepared to take a seat and, while she waited for her slow computer to finish turning on, Edurne gently massaged her nose. The red marks caused by the protective glasses and that tight mask bothered him more and more. When the computer decided to turn on, the screen was flooded with an endless list of first and last names that the nurse looked at with an ambivalent feeling: on the one hand, she felt worried. He was aware that behind each name were hidden stories, worries and fears. On the other hand, she felt unmotivated and resigned. The day's workday, as was often the case, would take longer than normal.
He began his work. One by one she entered the stories of her patients. Call after call, Edurne stuck to the monotonous protocol before her. Most of the people who received these calls used to be grateful for the questions that basically focused on the control of the symptoms that the viral infection caused them to suffer. The cheerful tone of voice that the nurse intentionally used in her calls certainly helped make this so.
The next name that appeared on the list made Edurne pause for a moment. Hope. He tried to remember for a second, until he could remember. Esperanza was an elderly woman, with white hair and a very affable and polite manner, whom Edurne was able to meet in the first weeks of working in that area, years ago. It had been months since he had seen her, he even had difficulty remembering some of the woman's facial features. But what he did remember is that he was a person who lived alone and had difficulties managing his medication. Multiple chronic illnesses, vision and mobility problems, and a great feeling of loneliness were just some of the problems that had brought Esperanza to the health center in the past.
Edurne hurried to dial the phone number that was displayed on the screen. As she listened to the call tones and waited for an answer, she remembered how many complications related to the damn disease other people with characteristics similar to Esperanza's had had. In those few seconds, he even came to remember the faces of some who had died from the virus. The tones stopped being heard and someone picked up the phone on the other end:
-Good morning, I'm calling from the health center, I'm your nurse.-Hello, Edurne! What a joy to hear you.
Esperanza responded in her soft, characteristic voice. The woman, as expected, was at her home. As background noise, a deep and resonant voice could be heard coming from what seemed to be a radio. The old woman began to tell her interlocutor the entire process she had experienced since she was diagnosed with the coronavirus infection. A timid cough frequently interrupted Esperanza's speech. She was a very methodical woman, so she had carefully recorded her own body temperature, which she rigorously measured every day. Perhaps the fear she had of something getting complicated also helped her control her symptoms to be so strict. After several questions, Edurne made sure that Esperanza's condition was still mild. At that moment, reviewing the protocol that he had printed that same morning, the call should have ended. But the nurse felt that the woman needed to keep talking.
That call was not like the previous interviews he had done during the morning. The clinical and almost aseptic questions about cough or fever turned into a more cordial and relaxed conversation. Edurne worried about her patient's medication, as well as her diet. If she lived alone and had to remain isolated at home, who was in charge of doing the shopping? The old woman explained, in a grateful tone, that it was her neighbors who had been helping her with these matters. Despite being alone at home, Esperanza was always accompanied in one way or another. After several minutes of conversation, Edurne explained to the woman again what symptoms could show that something was wrong; After that, he promised to continue the telephone follow-up personally.
-Daughter, thank you very much for remembering me. Call me back soon.
Esperanza's parting phrase made the nurse stop her work suddenly. After hanging up the phone and stopping for a few seconds, Edurne fixed her gaze on a bottle of water that she had next to her. It was a garnet-colored metallic bottle that some grateful student intern had given her several months ago. He picked it up, got up from his chair and started to fill it with water from that faucet in his office that he visited so often to wash his hands. After this, he approached the plant that appeared to have no life and generously bathed it with fresh water. The land that was dry and threadbare quickly absorbed the water.
The hard weeks of work weighed on the body and mind of the nurse. The home visits dressed in that uncomfortable protective suit, the endless lists of people waiting for a diagnostic test, the walks in the rain to the patients' homes, the demotivating routine, the silence in the empty streets.
However, the sincere words of gratitude from that patient made Edurne reflect on everything she had been doing since the start of the pandemic. Although she had the feeling that her work was almost invisible, she realized, from her humble inquiry, the great importance of what she had done.
Because of all this, he thought that that day had not been just another day, but a special day, a good day, because he had realized something important and motivating: that he was turning everyday life into a true art.
And she perfectly understood what they told her at the university: nursing is a science, but also an art.
Romero Domínguez V. A good day. Sick Goals Oct 2021; 24(8):79-80
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