Nursing my Man

Years ago, I went to nursing school at my local community college. At the time, I could not understand why we spent so much time learning about the philosophies of Erickson, and Maslow, and what I considered psycho-spiritual foo-fah. I wanted to learn the more tangible and practical matters of bedmaking, giving injections, and monitoring vital signs. I eventually learned all the hands on nursing procedures, (as my instructors assured me I would), but thinking back, the education I received that focused on understanding the person in favor of treating the disease was invaluable. To be a good nurse meant connecting with the patient, understanding their perspective, and delivering care based on their unique way of being in the world.  I watched many a nurse anger patients by marching in, lording over, and brusquely getting down to the business of procedure, without any regard for the patient's feelings. So today, when my husband woke up with the flu, I was well prepared to care for him. I had noticed that he wasn't himself the past two days... eyes were glassy, he was a bit more subdued than usual... but knowing him as I do, I kept these assessments to myself. He is not the kind of person who likes to be asked, "what's the matter? are you all right?" or to be told, "you don't look well." This would seem like a form of nag. I knew he was feverish when he went to bed last night, and when he awakened three hours past his usual morning wake up time and announced that he had to send an email to work... it was obvious he was sick. He poured himself a glass of water and proceeded back to bed. I quietly followed and help cover him with the extra blankets that in his belief will help him "sweat it out," kissed him, and left the room. I went to the grocery store, bought a chicken, some gingerale and a thermometer. Upon returning, my only interference to his sweat lodge was to take his temperature. It was 103, and I let him tell me to bring up some aspirin. He remembered my former advice that if a temperature is below 101 you should let the body fight, anything above needs to be lowered, as it is doing damage. So I brought the medication and some gingerale, and then proceeded downstairs to make chicken soup. Maybe he will eat it and maybe not, but sometimes just doing "something" is important for the caretaker, who feels completely helpless. I tried not to fret or worry, but quietly went about my daily routine, checking silently now and then, as he went into the "flu doze". Later, if he feels like getting up, I will change the sweaty sheets, offer chicken soup, and retake his temp. Beyond that, I will care for him as I know he would like best... leave him alone and let nature take it's course.