No job is beneath you

While I was hospitalized in the past several weeks, the nurses took care of everything. Because I was not supposed to get out of bed on my own, they had to help with everything. When the remote fell off and made a noise, the nurse thought that I had fallen and dashed into the room only to pick up the remote which was so trivial that a child could have easily done it for herself.

I was a heavy sleeper after the surgery and kept wetting my bed. I just couldn’t awake from my sleep whenever I had to pee and when I did wake up, I was already drenched. Luckily, this stopped as soon as the IV drips were taken off. But while it persisted, sometimes things got messier. I would wake up suddenly, hop right out of bed and ready to dash on impulse. I’d forget where I was, the IV needle pulled out from the back of my hand and leak, I’d fall because my legs were wrapped up and connected to a device that applied pressure to my calf to prevent blood clotting, and in a state of confusion I would have difficulty finding the remote to call for help with.

At last, I managed to locate the remote, but the nurses took about five minutes to show up. Not very comforting to a patient in distress, When they came in, I said, “I fell AGAIN. There’s just not enough people. Why did it take you so long?”

The nurses had a good look at the mess that I was in and quickly decided what they needed to do. Without reacting to my complain, they changed the rope I wore which by now was soaked, replaced the wet bedsheets swiftly, and changed my room to another one closer to the nurses’ station so that they could keep an eye on me at all times.

When I was hospitalized at the Kuala Lumpur General Hospital, this was always an issue with the nurses. They were reluctant to come to my aid. When they did come, they were bitter about it. I had to remain laying on the mess while the nurses took their time to decide when they would come and who among them should come to my relief,

The treatment I received now and then were two extremes like the contrast between heaven and hell.

There was always a Night Nurse taking exclusive care of me overnight during my stay at St. Vincent Medical Center. On one of those nights I called the nurse every hour to use the washroom because each time I awoke, I was afraid of wetting the bed again. The Nurse would come in, help me get out of bed, change the beddings if it was wet, help me to the bathroom until I was seated securely, replace the toilet roll if it was out, and then help me get back to bed again – hooking up the IV, the leg compression device, tuck me under the covers, made sure the remote was placed within reach (sometimes they left it on my tummy) and pulled the table closer so that I could get drinking water whenever I felt thirsty.

Before they left, some would remind me that “I must not get out alone and I must call for help”.

I felt bad for troubling the nurses especially when I wet the bed and apologized as they cleaned up the mess. They would pat me on my legs as if to say “It’s okay.”.
During mealtime, the kitchen staff would bring up food to the ward but it was the nurses who helped distribute it by bringing each tray to the patient’s room. They’d open the milk carton, add thickener to the liquid food so that I won’t choke, sort out the different dishes and cutleries and sometimes they would even stay behind until I was done eating and back to bed.

Another night I could not fall asleep and wanted to go for a walk. The night nurse I asked who happened to be a male took me around as a physiotherapist would.

You might think, “of course, it’s a private hospital. How much did you need to pay?”

But the fees I paid St. Vincent was actually after a 70% discount off the current hospital rate. Besides, here at St. Vincents all patients received the same amount of care no matter how little you pay. Of the times I had surgery here, two of which were free. And the quality of care I received then were not any different from others.

Hence, the nurses were attentive not just because they are highly paid or that this hospital is a private hospital. I believe it is their character.

During my recent stay, I was cared for by two nurses of pre-pubercent age and Korean. They were so intelligent and independent that they seemed to have spent years on the job. These kids are going to grow up with their jobs. While I was experiencing a seizure in the ICU, several nurses who took care of me were Asian teenagers who must have had their early start just like the Korean ones did.

Back home in Malaysia, more and more colleges are offering courses in Nursing for secondary school leavers to gain work qualifications. Even at the college that I attend, we have such a course. But remembering the nurses’ attitudes I experienced at Kuala Lumpur General Hospital, I fear to think about the social consequences of churning out nurses by the masses at our private colleges.

So what’s the point?

The level of care I received from the nurses at St. Vincent reminded me of something I read in Randy Pausch’s Last Lecture. When he was a boy, Randy must have contemplated about his job and said something about the simplicity of it. He got a good shelling from his dad who could not believe his son’s arrogance. So this was one of the lessons Randy learned from his dad and passed on to his student at Carniege Mellon – no job is beneath you.

Likewise, the nurses at KLGH were unhappy with the chores that came with their jobs, but its only part of the job.

Randy’s dad was upset because it is this arrogance that some people stay poor.

No job is below you. Only that you may not be good enough for the job.