The Nurse

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Everything I needed to know about nursing I learned from Clementine. She was the best possible teacher any patient could be and every nurse should hope for.


I have been a registered nurse for 0 years and it isn’t possible for me to recall all of the patients I’ve served. I remember snippets of caring for thousands, a few names, a few circumstances but only one patient do I remember everything about.


My new nursing license was in hours younger than my age of 0 when I stepped


on to the ward of a state run hospital as the -11-charge nurse. We were unlucky enough to be the depository for the larger hospitals in the area who sent the cases that didn’t have insurance or were so ill that they were transported out to keep the private hospitals death census from going up by one. We routinely receive patients with respiratory rates of 6 to 8 per minute and with survival rates of minutes to hours. It was an “end run” ward and the hopelessness permeated the hallway walls.





But not in Clementine’s room. A women whose voracious terminal illness was made almost invisible by the sheer force of her cheerfulness. It took an army of at least four staff members over an hour to complete her dressing changes each shift. During those hours she would sing in a loud riotous way that would have made Bette Midler proud. “Oh my darlin’… oh my darlin’ … oh my darlin’ Clementine…” She would tell jokes in a fashion that made my 0 year old face blossom with color. Clemetine would share stories about her life, ask about ours and give advice on everything from supper cafeteria choices to the best pantyhose brands available. All the while apologizing for the work she felt she burdened us with.


Often she would comfort her caregivers. I distinctly remember standing at her bedside clenching and unclenching my jaw as I pushed IV Morphine. As I tried to give her some relief from the incredible pain that gripped her, all the while Clementine gently rubbed the back of my arm in an effort to relieve my feelings of helplessness and frustration with my inability to truly help her.


This went on for months. Long enough for most of the staff members to become so enamored with Clementine that even before and after punching out at the time clock many felt compelled to linger in her room for just a few more minutes soaking up the sunshine that surrounded her. Her warmth and graciousness was rivaled only by that of her son’s for his willingness to share the perfect gift of his mother with the staff in what would be his last days with her.


You could not care for Clementine and manage to escape unscathed by the circumstances of her life, the dignity she possessed even as her condition pulled her body into degrading states or her ability to reach inside each person she encountered and pluck out hopefulness, cheerfulness and humor.


I remember arriving half an hour early to join the pre-shift gathering in Clementine’s room. It always seemed to bring a greater sense of teamwork for the staff and that directly reflected the care of all the ward patients. The first shift charge nurse met me at the stairwell door to tell me that Clementine had died an hour earlier but that they had kept her body on the ward for me to be able to see her before her remains were transported. I stood silently in grief as she handed me the key to the day room where they had moved her.


This wasn’t the first time I had seen death but it was the first time someone I loved had died and I wanted to be sure I said everything I needed. I pulled up a chair and pulled back the top of the shroud so that I could see her face. I had a lot to say to Clementine and I started with “thank you.”


Clementine’s biggest gift was proof that detached nursing is never a bonus for either the nurse or the patient. There are many compelling reasons to become a nurse but for me none as appropriate as the desire to share all that a person is, was and will experience while under my care. Clementine not only changed the kind of nurse I became - she changed the kind of person I am.


You may be lost and gone forever but you’re still my darling, Clementine.





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