I’m writing today’s blob in a hospital room in Tacoma, Washington. Son Matthew was brought here by ambulance a few days ago with severe sepsis and aspiration pneumonia in one of his lungs. But since then, he’s doing well, his spirits are good and as soon as the doctors see some lab results they’re aiming for, he can be discharged, maybe in a couple of days.
Daughter Susy and I have been staying with him for many hours each day so we’ve had a chance to observe firsthand the delivery and effects of the sophisticated medical care he’s been receiving. It’s a humbling experience watching the smooth, seemingly effortless ease of the people who are delivering that care. I wish they knew how much we appreciate it.
One day, we were chatting with a nurse who mentioned that she had three children. I asked her, “Do you think any of them will follow in your footsteps and become a nurse?” I still feel sorry remembering her answer. “Well, actually, I hope not,” she said. “I’m encouraging them to look into other fields of work”. I asked her why, expecting her to complain about pay or work hours. Instead, she said, “No matter how hard they work – even during their 12 hour shifts – nurses no longer get the respect they once had. It’s becoming a really thankless job.”
Since then, I’ve been watching the busy activity in Matt’s room and outside at the nurses’ station, and it got me wondering. Everybody who works here is wearing scrubs, or T-shirts and casual pants, limp jackets or sweaters – the same kind of sad sack attire that I wear myself.
Most of us these days present ourselves to the world in comfortable, synthetic, machine washable, machine dryable, denim or shapeless fleece or jersey wearing apparel that was produced in sweatshops by underpaid, sometimes under-aged and under-appreciated seamstresses who probably dress themselves with more style than we do.
The clothes everybody has on here at the hospital is the same – comfortable, unremarkable —- and nondescript. You can’t identify the work of anyone by the clothes they’re wearing. Doctors, nurses, lab techs, aides, cleaners, therapists, technicians, dietitians – they’re all dressed similarly. In scrubs that resemble pajamas or the grunge-wear of the day.
It didn’t used to be that way. Whenever Susy and I arrive or are leaving the building Matt’s in, we walk past a display honoring the hospital’s nurses since the beginning of the century. One of the displays shows their wearing apparel – the starchy dress and apron, white shoes and stockings, and the classic crown of it all — the crisp white cap of each graduate with its black stripe that is the proud symbol of the Registered Nurse.
When I was in high school and first two years of college, I worked at a hospital that was associated with a nursing school. My future sister-in-law Arlis and her sister Lois were both student nurses there. To this day, I still clearly remember how they looked on duty and even when they left the building. They were dazzling. Dark-haired, they wore the crisp white uniforms, white shoes and stockings, caps, and when going outdoors, navy blue wool capes with red lining. They were drop-dead gorgeous!
It wasn’t just how they looked, though. They weren’t much older than I was, but I – and my friends – all seemed to be in awe when we saw Arlis or Lois or any of the other student nurses. They were different from us and they were being trained for an important mission. I wrote about it on a blob back in 2011: https://goingon80.com/2011/07/23/320-arlis-and-andrew/
It seems to me that in my youth, all nurses were considered with that kind of reverence. People who still appear in uniform often receive such respect and deference – the military, police, firefighters for instance. It’s like they are sending the message: “This is who I am. I have a mission to accomplish and don’t stand in my way”.
As an adult, I again worked in a hospital – Seattle Children’s Hospital. By that time, we were seeing very few conventional nursing uniforms on the patients floors. The trend to sartorial grunge was already underway. We had a nursing director named Karen Cummings. One year, when her birthday was nearing, she was asked what kind of birthday gift she would like to receive from her nursing staff. She said that what she would most appreciate on that day would be if every one of the nurses would wear the white nursing dress, stockings, shoes, and of course the white caps and gold pins of their nursing school.
It was glorious. Everybody seemed to be walking a little taller on Karen’s birthday. It was such a successful day for staff and patient morale, that it seemed to me it might become a habit. Alas, it didn’t. The very next day, all the nurses were back in their grungies.
But I have to wonder… As an experiment to find which kind of nursing wardrobe would fit Rodney Dangerfield’d “Don’t get no respect” category, consider what kind of awe and reverence nurses get wearing the “scrubs” that make them look like they came to work wearing their pajamas . . . . .
. . . As compared to how they might be viewed if they came to work dressed like this.
There might be more laundry, but there’s always perma-press fabric!
Whatdya think? Maybe, or maybe not?
We sure hope Mathew continues to improve and gets home soon.
It makes me think about teachers, too. Mom, while you’re taking care of Matt and Susy, and all of us, do be sure to take care of your sweet self as well. Your uniform should be a superhero.
I agree with Judy. Our mother is a super hero. I have to run after her walker to keep up with her!!!
I do think the nurse uniforms from the past were kinda impressive but so impractical. The pj outfits that all the hospital staff wear now are so much more comfortable and easy to wash and wear. But it IS difficult to tell the nurses apart from the doctors, surgeons, technicians and other therapists!! Thank goodness they all wear name tags.
Get well wishes for Matt. So sorry to hear about the ambulance episode. Matt is always so positive that I had no indication that he was about to be this sick.
I’m sure the nurses get the proper measure of honor and respect from the Ford family. But I too wish we could turn the culture around and go back to traditions that fostered and promoted a respectful attitude toward each other. Thanks, Pat for the awakening and inspiration.
Get well soon!, Matt.
Please give Matt our complete love and hearty wishes for improvement… and please let us know when we can come and see him–even if only for some minutes. Get well, dear brother