A long time ago I had a patient with a horrible skin infection. It had literally eaten away almost half of his face, leaving it raw and disfigured. I've seen a lot as a nurse, and have learned to take in something awful with my eyes without letting it hit my face. And I'm glad, because he turned out to be one of the sweetest patients I've had. Gentle mannered, polite, and kind.
This patient's ER stay turned into a hospital admission. It was back in the old days before our hospital had built us a snazzy new ER and there were no private elevators. Patients being transferred on gurneys shared the same tiny space with the rest of the foot traffic going up and down in the building. As I was pushing his stretcher up to the elevator there was a group of young women waiting.
They saw us instantly as we rounded the corner toward the elevators, and their facial expressions took no pause in reflecting their disgust at my patient's disfigured face. They glanced at him and at each other making faces and whispering about how gross he looked. I felt a distinctly protective anger at their reaction to him. I felt his exposure, laying there on the gurney with no where to hide, front and center. I couldn't see his face, but I felt his shame and his embarrassment. I wanted to hit those girls in the face and tell them to learn some manners. But instead, as I walked I nonchalantly turned the gurney backwards so they couldn't see him and so he wouldn't have to see them. I stared hard at the girls as they stepped into an elevator. There was room for us. I let the door close and waited for the next one.
It is understandable when someone's face registers momentary shock at seeing something about someone they didn't expect. It's a human reaction. But we have to remember there is a person in every broken and crippled body. Take care to control your face and your words. A wounded body doesn't need a wounded soul too.
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