AJN’s December Issue: Working During a Pandemic, HIV Foot Care, Healing Pet Visits, a Focus on Narrative

AJN1213.Cover.OnlineAJN’s December issue is now available on our Web site, just in time for some holiday reading. Here’s a selection of what not to miss.

Working during a pandemic. Flu season is in swing, but how do nurses feel about working during a flu pandemic? Researchers investigating terrorism and catastrophic events found that up to 96% of health care workers reported being unable or unwilling to work during some emergencies, with some infectious diseases associated with the highest rates of unwillingness. “Predictors of Nurses’ Intentions to Work During the 2009 Influenza A (H1N1) Pandemic,” December’s original research CE, suggests that providing adequate resources during an emergency (such as personal protective equipment) will not only ensure the safety of patients, nurses, and nurses’ families, but may also increase nurses’ willingness to work in times of crisis. Earn 2.5 CE credits by reading this article and taking the test that follows. If you’re reading AJN on your iPad, you can listen to a podcast interview with the author by clicking on the podcast icon on the first page of the article. The podcast is also available on our Web site.

HIV foot care. Peripheral neuropathy, which causes debilitating symptoms such as burning pain and sensation loss in the foot, continues to be prevalent in people with HIV, but is often overlooked. “HIV Peripheral Neuropathy and Foot […]

House of Death, House of Life: Reflections of a Hospice Volunteer

Perhaps the fundamental requirement for hospice volunteers is an open mind. Assumptions and first impressions rarely predict reality. I met a soft-spoken woman who was once a nun, then later became a theme park belly dancer. I met an ex-Marine officer and small-town police chief, a self-described “soldier by nature,” who denounced all wars after 1945 as senseless bloodbaths. I met a former civil rights activist upset that minorities were moving into his neighborhood.

lllustration by McClain Moore. All rights reserved. lllustration by McClain Moore. All rights reserved.

That’s from the August Reflections essay in AJN, “House of Death, House of Life.” The author, Ezra Ochshorn, explores the moments of tragedy and levity he encounters in his work as a hospice volunteer, the powerful impression made on him by people who are either at peace or full of “bitterness and regrets” as they approach death, his realization that his most important task is to be in the “here and now” with each person—and then to do his best to take this lesson back into his own life.

But why not read the entire short essay, since it’s free? Just click the link above.—JM, senior editor

A Fine Line Between Patient and Provider, and a Mother’s Plea for More Epilepsy Research

by Eric Collins, ecol-arts.com by Eric Collins, ecol-arts.com

Thomas is a frequent flier in our ER, a bespeckled 40-something with coke-bottle glasses, a man who seems to run, like a dog out for a joyride, right into the arms of the dogcatcher. The police bring him in, one man on each arm, his legs limp. Thomas has schizoaffective disorder, dives into the fountain at the mall, screams at strangers at the YMCA, paces outside the grocery store. In a way, I understand—sometimes behaving according to convention can be a little dull.

That’s the start of “Thomas,” the July Reflections essay in AJN by Emily Maloney. It’s about the fine, but still absolute, line that can exist between paid provider and patient at moments when life feels overwhelming to both. Or something like that—it’s hard to summarize a nuanced, lightly ironic account like this in a few words. Like all Reflections essays, it’s short, free, and worth a full read.

The July Viewpoint essay, “A Son’s Seizures,” is written from the perspective of a mother, Linda Breneman, who looked beyond her own experience to become an advocate for all those with epilepsy, particularly those with the intractable sort that doesn’t respond to most treatments. While most people with epilepsy respond to medications and can eventually live more or less normal lives, it’s the author’s well-argued conviction that more research needs to be done to help the subset of those with […]

The Patient With No Name: When Nursing Illuminates Literature

By Marcy Phipps, RN, a regular contributor to this blog. Her essay, “The Love Song of Frank,” was published in the May issue of AJN. She doesn’t usually write about books in her posts, so we hope you enjoy this change of pace.

I didn’t know much about The English Patient when I picked it up recently at a library book sale—I only dimly recalled that the novel had been made into a movie I’d never seen. Since it was published by Michael Ondaatje in 1993, I can hardly blame a lack of time for my lapse. Yet I found myself glad I hadn’t read it until now, as my own nursing experiences suffused my reading of it, leaving me more deeply moved than I might have been otherwise.

The novel is set in the final days of World War II, in a bombed Italian villa that had served as a war hospital. As the story opens, the makeshift hospital has been recently evacuated, with patients and medical staff relocating to Pisa. One nurse remains, though—a young Canadian named Hana. Described as “shell-shocked” due to her experiences during the war, she refuses to leave the damaged hospital or a nameless English patient, who she insists is too fragile to be moved.

Other characters come […]

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 […]

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