I am a nurse in the rehabilitation medicine department. Today, I'd like to share a little narrative nursing story from my daily life. Drawing from real-life clinical cases I've encountered, I'll share my practical experiences and insights. Together, let's embrace the service philosophy that "love is empowerment", and discuss how we can use listening to enter the hearts of patients and use warmth to light up their hope for recovery.
Having spent a considerable amount of time in the rehabilitation department, we encounter a group of patients every day - those who have suffered from stroke, spinal cord injury, tumors, or undergone fracture surgery. Not only do they have to bear physical pain, but they are also often plagued by feelings of inferiority and anxiety, and may even despair about their future.
I still remember Uncle Wang, who suffered from stroke-induced hemiplegia. He used to be the real pillar of his family, but after the illness, he couldn't move his left limbs at all. Even turning over or sitting up had to be done with the help of his family. Such a fall made him shut himself up all of a sudden: he didn't speak, his eyes were glazed over, he was unwilling to do rehabilitation training, and he resisted our nursing care. Sometimes he would secretly shed tears alone. His family was so anxious that they held my hand and said, "Nurse, he used to be so cheerful and strong-willed. Now he's completely broken down. No matter how we persuade him, it's useless."
Actually, I can fully understand that physical pain can be alleviated with time and treatment, but the psychological barrier is the biggest obstacle to his recovery. It's not that the uncle doesn't want to get better, but he is trapped by the thoughts of "I'm useless, I'm a burden to my family", and he sees no hope.
Faced with the uncle's depression, I didn't rush to urge him to train. Instead, I tried to use narrative nursing to help him step by step out of the predicament.
Get up and exercise
I no longer urge him to do training every day. Instead, I take some time every day to sit by his bedside and chat with him. We don't talk about treatment or reason, just quietly listen to him pour out his heart. I tell him, "Uncle, suddenly getting sick and losing control of life, anyone would feel aggrieved and helpless. I can really understand you." It is precisely this sincere acceptance that has gradually made him let down his guard and willing to share his inner thoughts with me.
Later, the uncle told me that what he feared most was spending his whole life lying in bed, becoming a burden to his family, and losing all sense of self-worth. I gradually helped him understand: hemiplegia is a problem brought on by illness, not your fault, and it certainly does not define who you are. You are still the responsible husband and father, and you're just facing a temporary difficulty. With our joint efforts, we will surely get better and better.
I will pay special attention to every small progress he makes, even if it's just raising his hand voluntarily, moving his body slightly, or being willing to cooperate with us for a training session. I will praise him in a timely manner, amplifying these small shining points and helping him regain his confidence. At the same time, I will communicate with his family, asking them to spend more time talking with him and encouraging him, so that he can find his own value again in the full love and care.
With day-by-day companionship and guidance, the uncle slowly emerged from his haze: from initially resisting training to later actively cooperating; from being unable to even turn over to being able to stand with support and slowly walk. On the day of discharge, he held my hand tightly, with tears in his eyes, and said, "Thank you for not giving up on me. You gave me the courage to live a good life again." At that moment, my heart was also filled with warmth.
This experience of interacting with Uncle Wang has also prompted some personal reflection on narrative nursing. The procedures we usually perform can alleviate patients' physical pain, but what truly cures them is patient listening, sincere empathy, and warm companionship. Narrative nursing, in essence, encourages us to shift our focus from merely "the disease" to "the person", to understand their desires behind the pain and grasp their vulnerability. Instead of labeling patients as "sick", we should avoid judgment and criticism, help them separate the disease from themselves, and let them know that illness is temporary, and they are still powerful and valuable. Our listening can awaken their courage; our companionship can support them to persevere; our encouragement can ignite their hope. Empowerment is actually quite simple: it is about enabling patients to regain the strength to fight illness and face life.
The road to recovery is indeed long and arduous, with each patient fighting alone against confusion and pain. As nurses, we are not only their caregivers, but also listeners and companions to their life stories, as well as the ones who help them rewrite their recovery stories.
Article/Voiceover: Wu Chengcheng
Editor: Ma Shiyu
First instance: Huang Guifang
Second instance: Jiang Bei