A Measure of Contentment: One Patient’s Daily Ritual

By Annelisa Ochoa for AJN By Annelisa Ochoa for AJN

A Measure of Contentment,” the August Reflections essay in AJN, describes the daily ritual of a resident in a long-term care facility. As author Nancy Ngaruiya shows us, nurses and other health care providers can sometimes notice, and support, the small pleasures and routines that make life worthwhile for patients.

Of this patient, she writes:

We make our own happiness. We define what makes us content, what actions help us find that happiness. Sometimes the recipe takes just a few ingredients. Even in an environment where freedom is limited, where rules dictate when to wake up and go to bed, what days of the week we will get assistance with a full bath and who will do it, what meals and activities are or are not available, he has defined what makes him content, perhaps even happy.

The patient in question happens to be one of those who often get frustrated, who aren’t always grateful or helpful—those who tend to be labeled as “challenging” or “difficult” by overworked providers. It’s easy to notice only the frustration of people who’ve watched their worlds shrink bit by bit as their freedoms and abilities diminish along with their health. […]

A Slyly Witty Essay on an Apparently Aphasic Patient, Plus a Plug for Submissions

By Jacob Molyneux, senior editor/blog editor

I edit many types of articles, but one certainty each month is that I’ll be editing our Reflections essay. This month’s is by Kathryn Mason, MSN, RN, PCCN, formerly a clinical educator and now a QM/PI project manager at the same hospital. Called “A Man of Few Words,” the essay is about that patient who is hard to connect with because she or he can’t (or won’t) speak. The piece has a surprising ending. Here’s an excerpt from the opening paragraphs, but please click the title above and read the whole short essay.

The nursing care plan called for dressing changes to the foot four to five times per week. I made at least three of those visits each week and my routine with Willy became fairly rote. He sat in the same chair each time, with his foot propped on an ottoman; I was positioned in front of the foot, my back to his decrepit television. I would chatter away to compensate for his lack of dialogue, regaling him with stories of my children, the weather, or whatever other bits of news came to mind. Sometimes he would give me his rapt attention and at other times he would be more intent on the news or a game show. (To read more, click here.)

To submit an essay for consideration, please take two minutes to read the Reflections guidelines, a short Word file that describes what we are looking for and not looking […]

‘A Passing Shadow’: The Abiding Uncertainty of Cancer Survivorship

My husband and I wake into the narrow December dark. He brushes his teeth, dresses, then busies himself as I eat breakfast. His packed suitcase sits by the back door. It’s 5 AM, two days before Thanksgiving. At precisely 9 AM, the surgeon will remove my husband’s right kidney, the one he is 99% sure is cancerous.

That’s the start of “A Passing Shadow,” the December Reflections column in AJN. Written by Gail Lukasik, a poet and the author of several literary mysteries, this hopeful but tonally nuanced piece vividly evokes the uncertainty that all cancer survivors and their loved ones must live with. Click the link or the image above to read it in entirety.—JM, senior editor

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2016-11-21T13:11:15-05:00December 5th, 2011|Nursing|0 Comments
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