Issue link: https://nnumagazine.uberflip.com/i/198597
Smiths:3 7/9/07 1:20 PM Page 14 "Glancing over at the group of nurses now demonstrating for universal healthcare was instantly comforting. I KNEW IF THE NURSES ARE HERE, WE WILL BE FINE." always been there providing the direct care, the touching, the understanding, and the health education that was so needed for our recovery after heart, artery, and cancer surgeries. Hospitals and clinics can be frightening places when you or someone you love is sick. But nurses always seem to lend a calming factor to that which is anything but calm. I have vivid memories of my husband's first heart surgery in Miami in 1990 when nurses patted me on the back for taking a tough stand with him about smoking. He was in the intensive care unit and crabbier than normal because he had been without cigarettes for a few days. I told him to stop being so nasty with me and asked him why he was so nice to the nurses. He answered, "Well, they'll quit on ya' if you're not nice." As I turned to walk out of his room, I told him, "Well guess what? This wife has just quit on you. If you can't be nice, I'm leaving you alone for a while." As I walked down the hallway I could hear him whining for me to come back. I felt like a witch for yelling at this poor 46-year-old man having heart bypass surgery and just being crabby because he wanted his nicotine. I nearly turned around. I was only 36 at the time, and all of this was happening way too early in our lives. But a nurse walked over, put her arm around me, and told me just to go ahead and take a break. "We'll take care of him, dear. He'll be fine. He needs to know you mean business." So I left for a few hours. The nurses did care for him, and we both learned from their gentle guidance. And he quit smoking for good. So glancing over at the group of nurses now demonstrating for universal healthcare was instantly comforting. I knew if the nurses are here, we will be fine. I did not know how true that would become in the hours and days ahead. After the glamour of the New York premiere and the fun of the after-party, we were asked if we wanted to ride on the SiCKO bus with the nurses as they traveled from New York to Philadelphia to Washington, D.C. The alternative was to take the train or fly to Washington and that just didn't have the same air of excitement attached to it. And we've never been to Philadelphia either, so we instantly jumped at the chance. The bus has cushioned seats, a refrigerator, and lots of snacks. The nurses also loaded large containers of coffee on board, and I was instantly in heaven. We departed New York City on a bright red bus filled with people anxious to speak up about the need for universal healthcare. Larry and I were quiet at first as we watched folks on cell phones and laptops keep working away to arrange interviews and rally details at stops along the way. Rose Ann DeMoro runs the CNA/ NNOC staff forcefully but with good cheer even on a bus moving along at 60 miles an hour. The rest of the nurses on the bus were from New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, my home state Illinois, and Cali14 REGISTERED NURSE fornia, of course. We changed into their signature red SiCKO scrubs and wobbled to the back of the bus for some conversation. Slowly, but with a building intensity that drew acquaintances together as colleagues in battle, each person—nurse or not—shared a story about some terrible healthcare issue unfolding either at their workplace or within their circles of friends and family. Meds unavailable due to costs, treatments denied by insurance carriers, elderly people discharged from hospitals into rehabilitation well before ready, and people who have simply drifted from the healthcare radar without any means to financially cover necessary treatment. The stories were spilled in detail with nurse-like precision and compassion. One of the nurses said she always felt badly when a patient's family member had to leave the bedside of an ill person because they feared being fired from a job. I was stunned back into my memory bank again. I was back in Miami, starting a new job and with my husband in intensive care once again. Post surgery, he was weak and not yet able to say very much. I would stop by the hospital on my way to work— where no one knew my dirty secret, race off to make it in on time, and then sneak calls to the nurses' station on my work breaks to ask if Larry was all right. The nurses always comforted me and comforted him. I would ask them to tell him I loved him and that I'd be there as soon as I could. And they always filled me in on his status and delivered my message. Here on this SiCKO bus I learned I wasn't the only person to face that decision. For all of these years I had lived with the guilt of being an awful wife who couldn't even be at her husband's bedside when in fact that was happening all over the country. I choked as I told the story, and these nurses so distant from those in Miami still offered me comfort. So this is so very fitting. This bus full of nurses, the people who so generously and professionally deliver much of our direct patient care in this nation, is now stumping for a change—a big change. The nurses want universal healthcare. The nurses no longer want to be a party to the atrocities happening in the American medical system. The nurses want to offer the best treatment possible to all of us, and they cannot do that under the current system. Think back then, will you? Think back on all the care given to you by nurses over the years. And ask yourself if they know what is right for the system now. They do. And as for me, I am inclined to honor them—especially those wonderful souls on the SiCKO bus—with my full support for their campaign. I Donna Smith and her husband, Larry, feature in Michael Moore's new film, SiCKO, after they had to declare bankruptcy due to crushing medical bills and move in with their daughter. Donna was a longtime newspaper editor and Larry a machinist. W W W. C A L N U R S E S . O R G JUNE 2007