Dim sum and family: Prescription for blessing

Chinese seniors are easy to please. Traditional older-Chinese folks’ idea of a blessing is simple—having dim sum with the family. Better still, doing so on a regular basis. Going for dim sum in a Chinese teahouse or restaurant is such a deeply rooted cultural behavior that, even to date, it has not gone out of fashion. Young and old alike, we all go for dim sum every now and then—sometimes for morning tea, sometimes for brunch, lunch or even afternoon tea, probably because we Chinese from the southern part of Canton, China, love food.

To a Chinese senior, having dim sum with one’s children and grandchildren is the symbol of a complete family, of being blessed in old age. It is something to boast about if a family can have five generations, all dining together. It is also a source of great delight to the elders.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Fashion statement

If one lives long enough, one will see fashions coming full circle. I see clothing styles from my youth becoming fashionable again. Sometimes, when my sisters and I window-shop, we make fun of each other about the dresses displayed. We say that we regret not saving those clothes. If we had been more patient, we would have stayed trendy without having to spend much. But who knows whether out-of-style clothes will make a comeback.

Although some clichéd styles have made a comeback, fashion in a general sense has made some progress. I use the term “progress” because I think the subtlety in trends reflects improvement. While I lament lack of imagination in today’s fashion, I admire its boldness. Nowadays, fashions are more diverse and eccentric. It is as though young people are making loud statements about who they are and what they do. In a certain sense, it is liberating. 

There are no more rules in fashion. While, in the past, everything was symmetrical in design—the collar, the neckline or hemline, the sleeves and the seams—symmetry is no longer in style. Asymmetry rules.

Asymmetry rules!

If, in the past, society subscribed to a common notion of beauty, this is certainly not the case today. There are no more rules for beauty. Character has a higher value. What a person wears is how the person expresses him or herself, and now we have freedom of expression. So there is less group-think and more individualized ways of living. Fashion is no exception.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Fast lane not always quickest way to go!

Life is busy. Busy people can accomplish more within the same period of time than non-busy people, but being busy doesn’t equal being diligent or proficient. Being busy does not mean getting lots of things done well. Being busy seeing people doesn’t necessarily increase our social network or win friends for us.

One thing for certain, a busy life makes our entire being tense up. We frequently look at our watches, checking the time, making sure that nothing has been missed. We go faster and faster until things spin out of control. Our actions become brisk and abrupt, and we become short-fused.

As I grow older, life in the fast lane doesn’t seem to be taking me to places faster. Rather, it makes me bad-tempered. I get upset when people who work with me do not understand me fast enough. My speech gets faster, but I don’t always make myself clear. Being busy can mean that I am not being thorough. More often than not, being busy means that I am hard pressed for time, and I become rude. I easily forget my manners. Regrettably, as E.M. Forster wrote, “Rudeness poisons life.”

Are we missing something?

Hong Kong is known for its efficiency, and because we are so busy—and therefore short of sleep—some of us sleep standing up. Do we know what we have missed by being so fast? What have we sacrificed to be efficient?

Wake me when I get there!

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

A lost cause, if ever there was a cause

To bring about closer collaboration between the medical and social sectors, the Hospital Authority (HA) of Hong Kong, which manages all public hospitals in Hong Kong, has announced, after a three-year pilot project, that it is ready to implement an integrative care model for helping at-risk elderly people who are discharged from hospitals meet their immediate transitional needs. Under the guidance of the HA, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) will have a social worker from the collaborating NGO stationed in the hospital to assess patient needs.

When I learnt about the initiative, I realized it was already a lost cause for community nurses to be champions of community support and care. I worked as a community nurse for a year in the mid-1980s. Back then, there was not much emphasis on community services and care, but now it is entirely different, with governments and health authorities all over the world realizing the importance of keeping patients in the community.

To me, nurses can also be brokers of community services as long as they have knowledge of the service agencies and support services available in the community. It intrigues me as to why we need another professional—a social worker—to come and be stationed in a hospital. Many community nursing centers are an integral part of hospital services. Community nurses go to the wards to assess patients prior to discharge when they receive a referral from the attending doctor. Now, a social worker will be stationed in the hospital and visit the unit to conduct patient assessments. It is a duplication of health resources.

Given the nursing shortage, nurses are ever so cautious when it comes to taking up new roles and responsibilities. Yet, when we focus only on what we cannot do because we believe we are overloaded, we do not see the possibility of what we can do. We need to show stakeholders that we are willing to take on new responsibilities for the purpose of providing holistic care to our patients.

At one time, nurses could have been the champions of community care. We could have done so much more for our patients. But we stayed in our comfort zone of defined practices. We would only see patients who had a referral—to dress a wound, give an injection or teach self-administration of injections, supervise walking exercises or change a catheter. Anything that was to be done had to come with a physician’s order.

Why would health education or patient counseling need a doctor’s referral? Charging for services is, of course, an issue. That is understandable. However, what is stopping nurses from going the extra mile to do the liaison work, to find out the needs of patients and families, and refer patients to the community support services they need, instead of asking them to seek a referral at their next doctor visit?

We need to wake up to the call of our nursing vocation and make ourselves visible and accessible.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Life in waiting

Sometimes, I think about a relative, who is disabled, and his wife, who also uses a wheelchair. I never imagined how different the pace of life could be when one is disabled, compared with the pace that I am used to. It was only when I went for a day out with them that I came to realize that people who are disabled have much less flexibility in managing their lives. Not only that, they have to spend a lot of time waiting.

To go out using the Rehabus (a vehicle with a hoist for wheelchair users, organized by the Hong Kong Society of Rehabilitation), they have to book in advance. And if the time and date they need the bus service are not available, they have to wait for the next suitable time slot. Otherwise, they can’t go to whatever event they intend to attend. Unlike those with healthy bodies, they can’t always take the bus, the underground or any other form of public transportation.

Yes, they can book a private taxi with a hoist that accommodates two powered wheelchairs, but there are not many taxis like this, so they are not always available. Also, they are relatively expensive, which is an inhibiting factor for many people who are disabled.

Over the years, my relatives have adapted to a way of living in which waiting for their turn has become a part of life. As an able-bodied person, I am always on the go and in charge of my time. If I need to get to a place for which no bus service is available, I will catch a taxi. I will explore whether a place I need to visit is served by other means of transport, how I can get there the fastest—subway, ferry, minibus, etc.—what the connections are and how long it will take. Then off I go. But my relatives have to arrange for transportation well ahead of time. Mostly, they request Rehabus to come and pick them up at a prearranged time and place. There is no such thing as a spur-of-the-moment outing. Choices are much more limited.

Before we went on our outing, we planned the day in advance. We estimated how we would spend our day. But they were only estimations. Although it was possible that we would finish our excursion ahead of schedule, there was nothing we could do to save time, so we went ahead with our plan. All we could do was wait. We waited for a pick-up after movies, after going to the mall, after a family meal, and so on.

The Rehabus schedule dictates their pace of living whenever they go out. If they book transport to pick them up after dinner at a family gathering, they may need to leave midway through the event. As much as they would like to spend more time with everyone, they have to leave, because the Rehabus only runs up to a certain time in the evening.

Through spending time with my relatives, I have come to appreciate how people with disabilities go about negotiating the pace of their lives. It is only through these experiences that I have come to realize that independence has different meanings to people with different levels of physical ability.

I have also come to realize that it must be the same for all vulnerable populations in our society. Not only do people with disabilities have their life schedules governed by external factors and timetables outside their control, but they must make adjustments to their planning and wait their turn. For example, say the elevator can only take one wheelchair at a time. Because they may not be able to run up the stairs, they have to wait for an elevator that is empty enough to take them to their destination floor. In a way, Darwin’s theory still rings true: Those who are fittest get it all.

Three people in wheelchairs wait their turn for an elevator.

What considerations should we bring to the forefront when designing infrastructure for an all-inclusive society?

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International. 

Rhythm of life

Today, I had a midday appointment with my traditional-Chinese-medicine doctor. Afterward, I went to a local teahouse to grab some lunch. The place was crowded, and people were lining up for seats or to pay their bills. After 2 p.m., the crowds began to ease. The official lunch hour for white-collar employees in Hong Kong is between 1 p.m. and 2 p.m.

Hong Kong teahouse

I finished my late lunch, then went to a fast-food restaurant. I had arranged to meet my friend in about an hour, so preferred not to go home and then come back all the way again. I brought my computer and decided to do some work in this restaurant, where I could stay for as long as I liked.

The place was quiet; there were plenty of tables for me to choose from. I worked for about an hour, until 3:45 p.m. Again, as in the teahouse, streams of people were gathered near the cashier. Yes, of course, I reminded myself, local folks, particularly those engaged in hard labor, traditionally have a break at 3:45, and this fast-food place—affordable—has become their haven for a break.

Rhythm of life in a city.

Such is the rhythm of life in a city. If I had not been there, I would not have felt it so strongly. There is rush hour on campus, too, during lunch, but the afternoon break is never observed so strictly. This is so very interesting to me. It reminds me of the times in the past decade or two when the construction industry was very strong in Hong Kong.

Yes, I am kind of reminiscing. Just so you know, research has shown that age has nothing to do with the preference or tendency to reminisce.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International. 

Travels and staying green

With the increasing frequency of natural disasters and the constant reminders about our endangered environment, who can afford not to be conscious of depleting resources and global warming? I have become more aware of how environmentally unfriendly I am when I travel. Even if I do not count carbon emissions from flying, I am still ruthlessly taking advantage of the world’s limited resources.

Hotels, for example. No matter how many times I place the green card on my bed indicating that I do not need to have my towels changed every day, and even though I hang up my towels to make sure that they are not the floor, I still get fresh, clean towels every day. I eat meals that are served in generous portions and end up not finishing them. There is no use taking a doggie bag, because I may not be able to finish the food when I am back at the hotel; I may have other plans or may be leaving the next day. I use soap, paper cups, Kleenex and so on, but leave the unused portions to be thrown away.

I take free souvenirs or buy souvenirs that are of no particular use. I don’t need them, but I take these little presents just the same. Because these little gifts please me and I take them, conference exhibitors continue to give them out for free. I take promotional printed items. I hardly read them, or just browse through them before tossing them in the garbage. I may bring home only about one-fifth of the materials I receive. Worse still, I hardly use even that small fraction. I am as hypocritical as those crusaders to the Antarctic, whom I have criticized.

I often wonder about those environmentalists who claim they love Mother Nature, but go on exploring the Antarctic—or Arctic—to document the destruction that humankind has done to our pristine land. Many of those who have visited those remote places are not scientists, but advocates who want to see firsthand the damage that has been done. Why do they feel the need to be there, to be seen in pictures of themselves in the Antarctic, before they can promote its protection?

As I reflect on my lifestyle, particularly when I travel, I realize that I am no better than those about whom I grumble.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Attached for no reason

I remember an old man. I saw him on many occasions when I went to work. He would be cleaning the garbage cans on the overhead bridge when I was heading toward campus. He would use tissue paper to wipe clean the top part of the trash can, where it was intended to be used as an ash tray. He was focused and meticulous. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to clean a public garbage can. Looking back, I think this must have been some kind of obsessive-compulsive behavior. I never spoke to him. No one did. He was just minding his own business. He didn’t look at any passersby. What I remember was a short, thin, older man scrubbing the garbage can in repetitive motions. He was not psychotic looking. He looked normal enough in his facial expressions and everything else. Nor were his bodily movements suggestive of any abnormality in mental function.

Years have lapsed since I last saw him. I imagine he might be dead by now, or too weak and frail to leave home. I feel sorry for him. I think only lonely people would pick up habits like this. He probably would not be doing what he did if he had a family. Does he know that someone who is a total stranger would remember him? Once I mentioned him to a colleague, but this colleague has no memory of such a man. I remember this old man. But we had formed no bond.

Every morning when I went to work I would walk past this pleasantly plump old woman, who always stood by a pillar in the mall to collect newspapers from people walking by who had finished reading them. She had a gentle face, wore the traditional clothing of elderly Chinese ladies and patiently waited for people to give her their papers. She was not aggressive or assertive, only sometimes reaching out her hand. A few weeks ago, I didn’t see her anymore and wondered what had become of her. One day, I plucked up enough courage to ask another woman who was now standing in her place if she knew. This other woman had no idea. I wonder if our paths will ever cross again. I had spoken to her once or twice. I remember her and liked her, but again, we had formed no bond.

Yet, I am bonded with this other old woman, as much a stranger to me as I am to her. She must be more than 80 years of age. She lives in a home (possibly with her family) in the village that I pass through every weekend when I go hiking. Sometimes I see her, sometimes I don’t. When I do, I always take my hat and sunglasses off, look at her and call out, “Good morning!” She will usually say something like, “Going for a hike?” and I will reply “Yes, what a hot day,” or something like that. Each time I see her, I greet her. But she doesn’t seem to hear me most of the time, or doesn’t seem to hear me well. She will respond with something a little off from what I said. I suspect she is hard of hearing. I hadn’t seen her for many weeks in a row. And I became worried. Had she passed away?

I do not understand why I feel a bond with her. But I do. You can say that what is involved is not bonding but attachment, as obviously the sentiment is one-sided. She is quiet, mild-mannered, likes to sit in front of her house in the village, likes to watch the world pass quietly by her and seems unconcerned. She definitely belongs to another time, another age. She doesn’t seem engaged in the modern world. Many weeks later, I saw her walking on the opposite side of the road, going toward the little town market, and my heart was relieved.

Throughout our lives, we must have formed bonds with many, many people. I wonder how older people deal with things or people with whom they have bonded, and then maybe lose contact with later in their lives?

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International. 

Loud

The world is a loud place; loud not just in terms of auditory sensations, but also in visual and other forms of stimulation, including tactile. However, visual and auditory assaults are probably the more common types we have to face day in and day out.

One day, I walked past a Catholic high school and, suddenly, an image caught my eye. A display board above the entrance to the school was rolling out colorful, electronic messages announcing that evening courses were now open for enrollment.

I was fascinated. Was it really necessary to be displaying such messages? Would they be useful in attracting students? If even a Catholic school, which I assumed would be more subtle in its actions, would do something like that, what could one expect of secular institutions?

Nowadays, it seems that, to be heard, we have to make loud statements We protest, prepare elaborate publicity strategies, create stunts and make dramatic moves for fear that, if we don’t, we will be ignored. Do we have to be loud to be heard? Does nobody care unless we are loud?

Everything and everyone is competing for attention. We are drowning in all kinds of sensory messages. But are all of the incoming messages useful or meaningful to us as we live our lives?

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

City landscapes

My city is a fascinating place. Pardon me for saying so, although I believe everyone must feel more or less the same toward their own town or city. Beneath the glamour of the central district in Hong Kong, the city is very Chinese at heart.

Shatin, the town where I live, has a population of 600,000 to 700,000. A huge town by any standard, it is one of the earliest developed satellite towns in Hong Kong. Despite its development, it is rather rural at heart in many aspects. 

We have a wet market in the town centre. Every day, you can see lots of older men and women sitting in the small gathering places outside the wet market to socialize. They like to go into banks to speak with the teller in person, rather than using machines. You see them wearing traditional outfits. (I am not referring to traditional Chinese clothing, but the way traditional older men or women normally dress— in an old-fashioned way.)

Corner of a wet market

Sights in Shatin are not the same as those seen by tourists in downtown Hong Kong. Shatin is more rural, its landscape more diverse. It is not quite the concrete jungle that Hong Kong is famous for. And, of course, there are other satellite towns that are similar to Shatin. That is why, to see the real Hong Kong, visitors should explore the suburbs.

The city landscape is as diverse as it can be. In the photos below is a “spider man,” a construction worker on bamboo scaffolding. This is how some construction is done in Hong Kong, using bamboo to build scaffolding, not steely cages made of nuts and bolts and iron rods.

A spider man

I hope you enjoy these glimpses of my city’s landscape, mostly with our eyes on Hong Kong’s seniors, of course.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Urban planning

It is projected that, about 25 years from now, one in four people in Hong Kong will be age 65 or over. Amazing! Have you ever imagined what it will be like when you walk on the streets or go anywhere in the city where you live, and every fourth person you run into is a senior? I have been thinking about that lately.

I think there will be more wheelchairs everywhere. Walkways, pavements, passages, etc., will need to be provided to cater to this need. They will have to be much wider. I visualize that elevators and escalators will be much slower than they are now, to allow for the slower reactions of older people. I imagine that public transport will have more special features that cater to the needs of people who require walking assistance, and for wheelchair users. And it will only be reasonable to have more resting places throughout buildings and public places, where people can pause and take a break.

Navigating stairways is a struggle for many seniors.

Activists are pushing hard for industries and the commercial sector to adopt the principles of universal design so that we can begin creating a more friendly environment for the old and disabled. By then, I don’t think we will need to fight that hard. Universal design will be incorporated in lots of places, maybe nearly everywhere. The sheer political force of the large number of seniors will make their voices more easily heard and their demands better answered.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

How to choose?

You and I have 24 hours a day. Each of us gets the same—no more and no less. I can spend portions of my time grading assignments and writing manuscripts, or I can go and join my extended family for lunch or dinner. I can use the time to write up reports and prepare abstracts for conferences, or I can have a tea party with two colleagues celebrating their birthdays or go to movies. So what do I do? And how do I choose?

If I choose to relax and enjoy my time with friends and family, I come home feeling guilty that I am behind at work—that I haven’t tried my best to perform, to do my best in whatever I have been trying to achieve in my professional career. If I choose to keep working during the evenings and weekends, yes, there is a sense of accomplishment, that something has been done, completed. Yet, I yearn for connection with family and reprimand myself for not looking after me. My mind and body deserve to be treated with respect. My eyes, my wrists and my back cry out for time away from the computer screen. I also feel guilty that I am not living life as it should be, but instead making work my whole life. I am in a Catch-22 situation. Are you?

Modern men and women who live in cities lead very busy lives. We go about our business as if we are the centre of things that are about to happen. Our behavior suggests that the world cannot turn without us. Of course, we know it isn’t true. But we multitask like crazy, nonetheless.

This struggle to spend our time wisely—when will we find a way to resolve the dilemmas presented to us? Will we always feel this way until we retire? And what will life in retirement be like?

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Fashion versus beauty

When I go to work, I always pass through a mall, because the train station is at the end of the mall. Each morning, I notice that the shop windows show different clothing. As the seasons change, so do the styles of clothing on display—whatever is trendy at the moment.

Sometimes I smile as I walk past, because I know that some of the very stylish items I have seen in the windows before, decades ago—the necklines, the hemlines, the waistlines—they just move up and down, left and right. I have come to realize that, if one lives long enough, one will see that there is nothing new under the sun. Things may reappear somewhat differently but, by and large, they are not new things.

There was a time when I subscribed to National Geographic. I still vividly remember one particular feature. A photographer, writing about the wild animals he had shot, asked what could possibly be more beautiful than the natural look of these wild animals. One picture I remember was that of a big elephant. The photographer called it beautiful. I like elephants, but I have never considered “beautiful” as the word to describe them. His remark gave a new definition to “beauty” in my personal dictionary.

Yes, the elephant was more beautiful than the somewhat expensive clothing one may acquire over the years—dresses, handbags, shoes and all sorts of accessories. And such beauty is always there; it does not go out of fashion.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Communal culture

I was early for my Geopark* trip with my friends. So there I was, sitting in a bakery and coffee shop in Sai Kung that opens early. Knowing I would be early, because I didn’t want to miss this hiking and boat trip that I had been so looking forward to, I had brought a book with me to read, but I never got a chance to read it.

The bakery is right outside a public pavilion where people gather for various reasons, or no particular reason at all. I was fascinated by the people traffic. I couldn’t take my eyes off the place. I saw older men and women, some with Filipino maids, using this public space as their social meeting place. Whereas young people use online social media, seniors use these physical spaces to stay connected.

I recalled the pictures I have taken of seniors gathering in public places. Then, suddenly, it dawned on me: This could be one of the major differences between aging in the East as opposed to the West.

Where in American and European cities would you find scenes such as those shown in these pictures? I would say that these are cultural manifestations of aging, differences between a collective-oriented culture versus an individualistic culture.

*The Geoparks initiative was launched by UNESCO to recognize and preserve sites of significant earth science interest.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Ageless attire

Do you know of any attire that is truly ageless, or age-neutral?

You’re right. Jeans. There is another one. … That would be the backpack.

I love jeans and backpacks. These items are a regular part of my outfit. They are suitable for kids, teens, adults and seniors—not exclusive to any particular age group. Of course, the occasion is important. You can’t wear jeans to a black tie event.

They are gender-neutral, good for people of all shapes and sizes. Jeans have been marketed as a sexy commodity. Sexy or not, they are practical, and you don’t need to think or feel that you are sexy in order to put on a pair.

They are just great inventions. I wish there were more goods, ideas—whatever—that would transcend the age boundary. I hope that, in the world we live in, a time will come when age really doesn’t matter that much. That would be a world radically different from the one we know now.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Maintaining personal space: A new rule

I was doing my weeklong clinical update in a major regional hospital. The cafeteria was always packed during lunch breaks. I tried to have lunch after the rush hour, to avoid the congestion but, still, the café was fairly busy. There I learnt a new rule about interpersonal boundaries.

In general, people (mostly urban population) maintain an invisible personal space around them, which they expect others to stay out of. The distance that people keep from one another depends upon the relationship they have with the other person in an interaction, or the context of its occurrence. When we are in crowds, this personal space shrinks, and when we are in a more spacious environment, our alarm bells ring if someone who has no particular reason to do so gets too close to us.

Applying this rule in the hospital café (where everybody shares tables as in a Hong Kong fast-food restaurant), I would expect that, at a table for four, when only one seat is taken by me, the next person would come and sit diagonally opposite from where I am (Fig. 1), thus maximizing personal space.

To my surprise, someone came to sit right beside me, leaving the two seats on the opposite side of the table empty (Fig 2). Initially, I thought this was entirely random, but it happened to me more than once, so it had to mean something, and that got me thinking.

Interpersonal rules that I have learnt in the past dictate that, when I sit down diagonally opposite someone, I should ask whether the seat is taken. Even if, because of intense competition for space during lunch, I do not ask, I should look the person in the eye, nod and/or smile. By sitting right next to me, however, the person does not need to look at me or acknowledge my existence.

I find this both interesting and alarming. Have we become that alienated from one another?

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Little acts of kindness

More stories from my clinical update experience (see previous post) ...

I have told you that, as an observer, I did not have any patient responsibilities, so was free to do anything I wanted to enrich my learning. I was able to go around the ward and observe ongoing procedures. I could also fill up patients’ cups with warm, boiled water. Older Chinese men and women do not like cold drinks, and we always drink boiled water. I could fetch a patient a bedpan or urinal if they needed one, or pass a request to the nurse in charge of their care.

During visiting hours, I also had time to talk to them and their families or friends. I was impressed by the families’ devotion to the patients and told them I appreciated how much they cared. I have had family members admitted into hospital, and I know what it is like to have to visit a close relative in hospital on a daily basis.

Anyway, that was all I did—just little things, really unremarkable, but even within the short period of time that I spent on the unit, these patients (as an observer, I can’t call them my patients) repeatedly complimented me on how kind and good I was. It was truly embarrassing when they loudly told me I was the best. I could only tell them that it seemed so because I was the only one who had all the time in the world there, without any particular responsibilities. I told them other nurses would act just the same in my position. I didn’t deserve those compliments.

To me, this clearly demonstrates that people do not expect us nurses to solve all of their problems. Nurses are ever so cautious when patients and their relatives ask how they, the patients, are doing. Surely we can do better than just saying, “This is a question for the doctor,” or “I will let the doctor know you are concerned.”

We don’t need to solve all of their problems. They know we can’t. They just want an acknowledgment of their pain and burden. They need a moment to vent and a pat on the shoulder to give them the extra bit of energy they need to go on.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

“A nurse must be caring. If you are not ..."

In June and July 2011, I did my clinical update in the medical and geriatric units of two different local hospitals. This is an unofficial requirement of all faculties in our school.

The visiting hour arrived. As an observer, I had a lot of time and freedom to do what I considered useful for my own learning. I went around talking to patients’ relatives. I saw this older woman feeding an even older woman and took an interest in them. It was a daughter visiting her mother in the hospital. As the daughter was giving sips of water to her mother, I asked for permission to take a picture of them. The daughter happily agreed. She started telling me that she had been on television and had been interviewed for radio programs before. She told me her mother was 101 and asked me to guess how old she was. She said she was 76. (She looks younger than her age.)

The lunch hour arrived, and I went to the canteen (café). There I met the daughter again, and we started chatting. Taking care of her mother had become her career now. She would leave home each day around 10 a.m. and arrive at the hospital well before 11:30, the first visiting time slot. Then, at 12:30 p.m., she would leave the ward and go to the café. She would sit in a distant corner until the lunchtime rush hour was through and then order her lunch. She would wait in the café until 5 p.m., the second visiting period, then stay with her mother until 8 p.m., when she would go home. She said it was her daily routine and that it was OK for her, because it was her mother.

She went on to tell me that she had studied geology in college in Beijing, that she used to work for the government of the People’s Republic of China and that her work was well appreciated by her supervisors. She took pride in the many projects she participated in, which were mainly related to irrigation and flood control.

And then we talked about care. We talked about nursing. I invited her to come and speak to my students in the coming semester. Without any prompting, she emphasized that there are a few things that are required of a nurse. “First, you must have a caring heart. You must love your job. If you don’t, you may as well not be a nurse. Second, as a nurse, you must treat the seniors you care for as your own relatives. Don’t choose this job only for the money.”

Nicely put.

I am humbled by her insights, her openness and her dedication to her mother. Yes, you need to be caring as a nurse. If you are not, you may as well not be a nurse.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.