Taj Taher 1

Essay 3 Perspective
Beep! Beep!
The nurse dropped the pager and turned to me. Go check on the patient in room 1218
please? I nodded, bounding off excitedly. Rounding on patients has always been my favorite
part of my Clinical Internship at the hospital. While my scope of practice is limited in what I can
do for patients medically, I find my duties chatting, ensuring their comfort, and serving smiles
critical to their healing process: I provide the human touch sometimes lost in the hospitals
bustle.
That ideal in mind, I approached the woman in 1218 and, with a warm smile, asked
How may I help you? Frail yet frenetic, wide eyes appearing perpetually suspicious, and hair
electrically askew, she explained furtively how her bed was uncomfortable and none of the
nurses took her complaints seriously. In the midst of explaining, however, she halted abruptly
and asked Do you think this is funny? Taken aback, I shook my head. Then whyre you
smirking? I was confused. I had been smiling, yes, but as a form of reassurance, not mockery. I
explained this and she resumed, but within seconds she cut off and screamed Youre smirking
again! You find my pain funny? You must be a psychopath!
Stammering a hasty apology, I hurried out of the room, promising to inquire about her
bed. I returned to the nurse, dazed. I had never had such a negative encounter with a patient, only
ever called sweet or thoughtful or kind: never psychopath. The nurse, when I mentioned this,
smiled knowingly and said Dont feel bad. She has Parkinsons, shes that way with everyone.
We tend to avoid her.
While that alleviated some of my misgivings regarding my abilities, it did not absolve me
from culpability and actually made me feel worse for her. I realized I had so fallen into
automatically donning that warm persona, I could not shrug it off even when the patient
expressed it upset her. And despite desiring to stay away, the nurses final note revealed that
while the patient appeared deranged and hostile, she was probably just scared and alone. She
needed me.
When I returned, I did so trying to be conscious of her situation and needs. I sat down at
her level and relaxed my face. Hesitant at first, she slowly opened up and recounted her tragic
tale. As she sobbed while detailing the frustration of losing control over body and mind, I patted
her shoulder and held her hand. After spending several hours in her room, I bid her good night
and asked if I could get her anything. A good night hug, she murmured, smiling.

Taj Taher 2
In a day I had gone from being condemned a psychopath to being a friend. I know now
that sincerity in intention is only meaningful when matched with sincerity in action, something
impossible if one seeks outcomes before taking a moment to consider the human to which that
outcome pertains. The warm hug we exchanged convinced me of that.