Moving On Up (to Another Floor)

After four months of coloring and playing video games, I got a call about a possible new assignment, as a volunteer surgical liaison. The position was described in a way that made it sound (to me) like I would be counseling patients' families during/after surgery, and relaying messages from the nurses. The volunteer supervisor thought it would be a good fit; I thought it would be interesting, and give me a better glimpse of what pediatric nurses do. I said yes.

I was told I would be shadowing a retired nurse, who is the current liaison, and pictured a gentle, practical woman with greying hair and little makeup. I was somewhat surprised to see a bright woman with shiny auburn hair, sparkly earrings, light silver eyeliner, and red lipstick. We toured the waiting room, the pre-op unit, the small inpatient unit and the PACU (post-anesthesia care unit), where we spent most of the time.

I learned that the job would entail not only bringing families to the PACU when their children were semi-awake, but also transporting patients to the inpatient unit (if they needed to stay overnight) or to the lobby (to go home). There were also the fine details of the contents of the PACU fridge (juice, ginger ale, popsicles) and where to put dirty laundry. It was noisier than the clinic and it was more intense, for obvious reasons, but I realized that it wasn't overwhelming. 

Part of it, I'm sure, was that you expect small children coming out of surgery to be squirming and crying, appearing both totally unaware of everything and painfully aware of everything. The other was that all the children coming out of the OR had undergone routine, hour-long surgeries and were otherwise very healthy. I knew they'd be okay. 

The realization that I could handle it was a relief. I once came close to giving up on pursuing any "helping" career fearing the emotional burden. I thought I had a choice between avoiding any helping role and being carried away by other people's problems. It's taken a long time to realize that it's not about me vs. everyone else. It's about everyone, in every place, in every time. A pediatric recovery room just happens to be one place.