If Only
I walked into a patient's room, yesterday, blindly, without knowing anything about that patient, to help her eat breakfast. She had makeup tattooed onto her face. She had makeup tattooed onto her face, and she couldn't even scoop eggs onto her fork without spilling them all over herself. It was like watching a toddler eat. I was completely professional with her. I moved her eggs closer so she could see them better, and I took her hand and taught her how to jab the eggs with her fork so they would stick. She was angry and frustrated, but eventually, she finished her breakfast.
That night, I came home and cried myself to sleep. I cried for her and all the other patients in that hospital who have been humiliated and had their dignity stolen from them. They are all good people who don't deserve what has happened to them. No one deserves to be bedridden. No one deserves to lose a leg from diabetes. No one deserves to have a stroke and lose the ability to talk. No one. I cried wishing, as they most certainly do, that they could go back to the way they were before. I cried knowing that most of them most likely won't.
All I can do is try to help them in the best way I can. That's all I can do.