Defining Times

I think as people grow older they increasingly look back at the defining times in their lives.  For my Dad, it was his years in the Army during World War II.  For me, it is my years in nursing school...not the same kind of "war," but an agonizing struggle with life and death, nonetheless.

Recently I thought about an experience that occurred about this time of year in 1965.  I was a student spending 3 months at Chicago State Hospital for my psychiatric nursing experience.  I was assigned to a male ward which housed about 30 men, as I remember it.  We didn't have much direction or supervision.  We sort of made our own way trying to build relationships and be "therapeutic."  We didn't have specific patient assignments, although we were expected to pick a patient and do a case study.

An elderly man was admitted to the ward.  Over the course of 3 or 4 days, I noticed a deterioration in his condition.  I had not spent any time talking with him, but I noticed that instead of being well-groomed and clean, he was unshaven and dirty.  As I approached him, I realized he had even soiled himself.  I sat down next to him and began to talk with him.  He started to cry.  Something told me this wasn't just depression.  I asked enough questions to learn that he was diabetic and had NOT received any of his medications since entering the hospital.  I immediately talked with the head nurse and had him transferred to the infirmary...the place where patients who were sick physically, as well as mentally, were taken.

When the whole story came out, we discovered that this man's family was tired of taking care of him.  They apparently decided that a convenient way to get rid of him was to admit him to the psychiatric hospital and not tell anyone that he was diabetic.  I suppose he was confused enough that they got away with the psychiatric admission.  They were probably hoping he didn't have the mental clarity to tell anyone he was diabetic.  He certainly did not have the initiative.  

So, why is this a defining experience?  I was 19 years old and had not previously seen enough of the evil side of the world to realize that some people are unloved and unwanted.  I had not really thought about the responsibility that I bore in that environment.  It was frightening to think what might have happened, if I had not been there enough days in a row to observe the change in him.

Someone recently commented to me that his son studied theology in college, but he doesn't have a job in that that field.  He is concerned that those years of education are being "thrown away."  I told him that his son's education is now part of his character and his world view, no matter what field he works in.  

The experiences I had in nursing school are part of my character and world view.  They are a large part of what defines me.