By Amanda Werner
PROMPT — The way I see it ...
When I notice I am resenting my body for not looking a certain way, I try to remind myself of two women I cared for while working as a hospice nurse last year. They both always showed patience to their friends and family, held interesting conversations with me, and emanated kindness. When I think about them, all I can see is warmth and light. I never searched for anything in my physical assessments beyond the status of their health and their comfort; there was never a doubt in my mind that they were beautiful in every sense of the word.
One of these women tearfully explained to me one day that she was distraught over losing weight because her breasts had become smaller. I paused, looked down at my own flat chest, and looked back at her. She raised her eyebrows at me and quietly commented that upon further review, she was glad that they at least were not the smallest in her room today. We laughed together for a long time. I made sure to compliment her on any new outfits or hairstyles she debuted after that. But every time I changed her chest tube dressing, I knew what she was thinking about.
The other woman I often think about had a new abrasion on her leg one morning when I came to check on her. I kneeled to get a closer look and realized it was razor burn. I requested that her husband, who was also in the room at the time, bring me wound care supplies from upstairs. Once she and I were alone, I asked her about what had happened. Since she had not had the strength to stand for weeks, she had asked her husband to shave for her. He agreed, but had accidentally nicked her lower leg with the razor. She disclosed to me that she had been insecure about her body ever since the steroid she was placed on had begun changing her weight distribution. The day that she asked what I thought of the idea of her discontinuing this medication, which was what was responsible for alleviating her pain by keeping her brain swelling down, we had a long discussion about her goals of care before she agreed to continue taking it. I drove out of her neighborhood before I stopped my car to allow myself to cry.
Both women had less than a few months to live.
One was diagnosed with advanced heart failure and the other had brain cancer.
They already had to worry about managing their symptoms, taking their medications, ensuring their loved ones would be taken care of after they passed, and saying their goodbyes.
Neither of them should have felt compelled to use any of their remaining energy on maintaining their appearance.
Women who have created for themselves vibrant and full lives are made to feel that they have somehow failed if they could not also do it in a way that made them desirable.
Women are forced to chase after a constantly changing standard, yet those who play into the game and those who do not both still end up losing.
Women too often can see beauty in everyone else but themselves.
Women cannot escape, even on their deathbed.
*Notes: Patient received lying in her bed breathing comfortably on room air. Her goal for the week is to be able to sit up in her recliner for family dinner. Family understands how to safely use her lift and can teach back to RN with no further questions. Patient denies pain, nausea, and vomiting. She notes that today she feels “stronger and more energetic.” Her sacral wound has healed and is now open to air, her lung sounds are clear, and she is beautiful.
Amanda Werner is a nurse currently residing in Chicago. In her free time, she enjoys listening to live music, watching sports with her friends, up-cycling clothing, and taking pictures of birds.
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