Small Gestures

I’ve had a very busy and yet relaxing couple of days. Being on the wards is hectic and chaotic with a lot of confusion reigning. And then finishing mid-afternoon and having a few hours before dinner to just read, journal and chat with the girls.

I’ve also been noticing the difference a small gesture can make to hour or even to someone’s day. Usually the initiator doesn’t think much of it and continues with their day but for the receiver, it can spark a glimmer of hope that wasn’t previously there.

Mondays on the male ward are the day for cleaning. Not really in the British fashion. All the patients are asked to leave with their attendants and then buckets and jugs of bleached water seem to appear from everywhere. They get methodically poured on to the floor whilst two people brush and mop(A plastic, rubbery type thing that ‘skooshes’ the water along) the water from one end of the ward to the nearest door. They continue until every crack and crevice has been sufficiently exposed to the concoction. At the same time the staff have buckets/cloths and scrub the walls, beds and shelves. After 3 hours of very warm, relatively intensive cleaning the patients are summoned back in to deliver their washed sheets on to their literally squeaky-clean bed. Then they disappear back outside to sit in the shade along the wall or under a tree. The nurses then make up the beds in an efficient, meticulous fashion. Then a signal is given and the patients return to their beds waiting patiently for the doctors ward round to begin which can be immediately or up to an hour.

Anyhow, now that I’ve set the scene, back to small gestures. So the doctors round begins and I was ‘assisting’ which I think is better described as ‘awkwardly hovering trying to interpret their English and then searching the ward at rapid pace for whatever piece of equipment they would like brought to them sooner than anyone could ever bring it.’ Anywa, I found the torch, not the classic medical torch we would use… but a bright orange torch most people over the age of 40 feel the need to carry in their car boot in case of a break down. But I found it at the back of the cupboard and brought it to the doctor. After examination we were moving towards the next bed the patient says, “Thanks nurse, for the cleaning.”

I was so touched. I never thought the patients cared much for what we’d done in the morning. In my eyes the ward looked no cleaner despite the brown muddy water I’d seen flow out the doors previously that morning. And I personally would probably have seen it as an inconvenience being shifted from my bed when feeling unwell and banished outside at 7am. It was just really nice to know that it had been noticed and that to him, it had mattered.

So just an encouragement to me personally that someone may need a smile, or a hand to hold or some other small, seemingly insignificant gesture just to help them through the day. And when you don’t speak the language it’s worth remembering.

Sarah