Reflections
To Do it with Love By Somatta Pokharel
Her screams were all powerful . The only explanation for her behavior was the agonizing pain she was feeling from the contractions . I stood in the corner of the bed , rubbing her leg , unsure of what else to do to comfort her .
A patient who immigrated from East Africa , 9 months pregnant , surrounded by nobody except the unfamiliar faces speaking to her in a foreign language . The only word that came out of her mouth was “ Soha .” It was the name of her native language that she spoke . A language so unique to her country of origin , that even the hospital with 500 language interpreters on speed-dial was unable to accommodate for . It was evident that she did not understand a word we were saying .
A room full of healthcare workers , but not one who could address her needs at the moment . The sound of her cries filled up the four walls of the emergency room . But , if you listened closely , there was a silent stream of ever-present melancholy in the room . Most of which was self-imposed by me .
The emotions I felt while seeing this woman , who resembled my immigrant mother , receiving less than optimal care because she could not make sense of the language that was being spoken to her … is something that nursing school could not have prepared me for .
Being the only other woman of color on her care team , I know this patient felt gravitated towards me . I could tell by her forceful grip to my hand when the nurse stuck her with the IV needle . I could tell from her eyes , which looked at me helplessly as she cried out in pain .
Her eyes sloped slightly downwards . They resembled the mountainous outlines of her homeland in Eritrea , and were glazed with an expression of unfamiliarity towards this less understanding land . I couldn ’ t help but wonder about the world she lived in before . I couldn ’ t help but to wonder if there was anything more I could do to help .
This was something that my first year in nursing school has not taught me . How do I care for a patient who I am unable to communicate with ? How do I exert compassionate care when those around me are failing to do so ? How do I advocate for a patient when everyone else is brushing her needs under the rug ? I can only hope that nursing school will teach me how .
For now , I will take it one experience at a time , one patient at a time , and one interaction at a time . What comes after that , I could not tell you . All I hope for is that nursing school will teach me how to do it all with love .
Somatta Pokharel is a student nurse at Texas Woman ’ s University in Dallas , TX .
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