Thereʼs Always Time

Abstract

MRS. EMERSON (St. Luke's, New York; B.S., M.S., University of Oregon) is instructor in fundamentals and maternal-child health at Clark College, Vancouver, Wash. "Oh, she means Mrs. Brown. Whe we finish with Cindy I'll show you what she means." After much reassurance Cindy submitted to the injection. While the student cleaned up her equipment, I told her about Mrs. Brown, a staff nurse then working on the pediatric unit where my nursing students (from the community college associate degree nursing program) were receiving their clinical experience in maternal-child-health nursing. Catherine Brown was already 54 years old, mother of five, and grandmother of six, when she was graduated with the first class of this program. I first met Catherine when she was having her student clinical experience in medical-surgical nursing. At that time I had just received my B.S. and returned as a staff nurse to the local hospital after an absence of 10 years while raising my family. One reads much about the importance of "individualized nursing care." Catherine gave the literature meaning. I appreciated her sense of humor and admired her relaxed attitude in the midst of that hectic surgical unit. To be relaxed and to maintain a sense of humor under those circumstances was a real feat! Catherine looks like a "mama nurse." She is short, comfortably padded, with a large bosom just right for comforting frightened children. She has gray, wavy hair,, a soft, reassuring voice, a ready smile, and a twinkle in her soft blue eyes. * After I had introduced Catherine to my student, and told her what Cindy had said about her, Catherine immediately launched into a detailed description of how it had taken her several days to get Cindy to take her injection willingly. "But now I don't have a bit of trouble with Cindy," said Catherine. "It is John who really concerns me." As she talked we followed her down to room 210, where five-year-old John sat huddled in the corner of his crib, looking furtively through the bars and whimpering softly, "Mama, Mama. I want my Mama." Catherine put her tray of medications down. "Of course you want your Mama," she said as she removed the net over his bed and picked him up. Holding him closely she sat down in the rocking chair and as she rocked him she talked about his collie dog, "Lady," his big brother, and other things which had meaning for John. Catherine had used all the sources of information available to her-the chart, the nurse who admitted him, his family, and John himself-so she knew a lot about John and about Lady, whom he dearly loved. After 10 minutes of talking to and listening to John she announced that she had some medicine for him to take to help get him well quicker. To our surprise John took the glass