Mrs. Finkle

Lesson #7: “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” ~Maya Angelou

On July 30th, 2013, I gained a better idea of the type of nurse I want to be.  

It was another clinical day at Good Shepherd Medical Center in Marshall, TX.  I was assigned to the 5th floor (my favorite), and I was looking through the list of patients available for me to take care of for the day.  I always ask the nurses which patient they think will keep me busiest, because 8 hours is a lot of time to kill when there isn't much to do and if you know me, I can't really sit still.  My nurse chucked and said "take room #5071, her name is Francis Finkle (*not a real name*) and she is an Alzheimer's/Dementia patient who was admitted for hypotension."  
 
When the nurse said that Mrs. Finkle would keep me busy, she was right.  All that woman wanted to do was eat, and talk, and walk, and talk, and eat, and talk, and press her call light.  What made the day interesting, to say the least, was that each time I walked into the room I could have been a different person because she forgot who I was after 10 minutes of leaving the room.  I must have introduced myself 20 times that day, trying desperately to get her to remember me.

Because of her Dementia/Alzheimer's she would ask for something, I would go get it, and by the time I brought it back, she would ask, "what the hell is that for?"  I would try so hard not to laugh to myself, because Alzheimer's is such a sad disease, but Mrs. Finkle was hilarious and I like to think she was that way before the disease process started.  

Mrs. Finkle's admitting diagnosis had been resolved the day before, so she was basically waiting to be discharged.  Because of this, I wanted to introduce my instructor to Mrs. Finkle so she would understand why my paperwork was over her primary medical diagnosis, not her admitting diagnosis. 

Now remember, at this point in the day, I had spent 6 hours with Mrs. Finkle.  I stayed in her room with her for most of the day because each time I left, she managed to get herself into some sort of trouble. (like squatting over the trash can to go to the bathroom) We watched soap operas, I listened to her stories (not knowing if they were true because of her memory), ate lunch with her (she ate, I sat bedside), she talked about church and God, she told me how men can be the most terrible creatures on the planet and that she actually had a favorite child.  Her stories were filled with elaborate details that could not have possibly been true because they contradicted stories she had told me in the earlier hours of the day.  But I didn't mind, she was funny, witty and made me laugh. I didn't know exactly how to talk to her because her thought process was all over the place, so I mainly listened.  She was the true definition of a "difficult" patient, but at least she was good company.  

So, in walks my instructor. 

Mrs. Finkle says, "Oh great, another nurse who's going to tell me what I can and can't do."  I explained to her, for what must have been the 10th time, that I was a student, and this was my instructor.  Mrs. Finkle said, with her curly, matted white hair and little attitude, "Well instructor... do you have a name or are you going to stand there and not introduce yourself?"

*I'm laughing right now as I type this* 

With a surprised look on her face, "Well hello Mrs. Finkle, my name is Wendy and it's very nice to meet you!" 

And then the talking began. "Wendy? Such a pretty name.  My middle name is Winifred and people used to call me Wendy." And Mrs. Finkle went on and on and on...

In between their conversation, we passed her medications and Mrs. Finkle moved to the chair so I could change her linens.  I stayed out of the conversation mostly because I wanted Mrs. Lewis to hear what I had been listening to all day but also because she was better at talking with Mrs. Finkle. They talked, and talked, and talked some more.  Mrs. Lewis kept calling her ma'am, and Mrs. Finkle finally burst out with, "Calling me ma'am is RUDE! What do you think I am, old?" 

She then proceeded to ask Mrs. Lewis how old she looked and to guess her age.  Apparently, it took her too long to guess so Mrs. Finkle shouted, "I'm 80!" 
Mrs. Lewis: "You look great for 80!"
Mrs. Finkle: "Well I bet I look damn good for 87 then because that's how old I REALLY am!" 

Mrs. Finkle shot us a grin and Mrs. Lewis and I burst into laughter.

Not long after that, Mrs. Lewis said she had to go help with some other students, that it was very nice chatting and left the room.

Mrs. Finkle went back to talking, and this time around I received a whole new set of stories.  Her children's names were different, she had a different career than she had previously told me, and she said she hadn't eaten, even though she just ate TWO sandwiches only a two hours ago.  As I was getting up to get her a yogurt from the patient refrigerator, she stopped me.

"When you come back, will you bring Wendy with you? She was really nice and I liked her." 

I couldn't get Mrs. Finkle to remember my name all day long and in that moment, I learned a valuable lesson. 

Mrs. Finkle was not going to remember me and she wasn't she going to remember Mrs. Lewis next week.  She didn't remember the conversations we had earlier that afternoon and she could barely remember where she was half of the time.  She couldn't recall that I was a student, and she had no idea that she suffered from Dementia/Alzheimer's.  

My goal for the day shouldn't have been to get her to remember me by name because at the end of my 8 hour shift, the only thing Mrs. Finkle remembered was how someone made her feel.

That is the kind of nurse I want to be.  
   
I want to be a nurse who leaves their patients at the end of the day with feelings of worth, joy, laughter, and kindness. (And obviously provide the best medical care possible)  Not a nurse who wants to be remembered for the who they are and what they do, but for how wonderful they make their patients feel about themselves. :)





(A few weeks later, I had Mrs. Finkle again.  She didn't remember me, but by the end of the shift she knew who I was when I walked into the room. :)