Today, I want to share not some profound truths, but the story of a man named Xiangge. He is my fellow countryman and a patient who has left an indelible impression on me.
The first time I met Brother Xiang was when he had just moved into our department - his face was sallow and he was extremely thin. Due to biliary obstruction, he not only had to carry a PTCD drainage tube with him, but also had to endure unbearable itching and pain. When I changed his dressing for the first time, I noticed his voice sounded quite pleasant, so I casually asked, "Where are you from?" He replied, "Mudanjiang in Northeast China." I smiled when I heard that, "Me too!" Meeting a fellow countryman thousands of kilometers away, this kind of fate instantly bridged the gap between us.
He started chatting with me about his hometown's frozen pears, pot-stirred pork, and playing in the snow. He asked me if I had married, and I replied that I was about to. He suddenly became serious and said, "Sister, if I could, I would really like to host a wedding for you. I would use the most beautiful words to witness your happiness and use my voice to convey the most beautiful love in the world." That's when I realized that this man, who always smiled and had a sparkle in his eyes, was a wedding host and also a singer. But such a cheerful person was dealt the cruelest joke by fate - he was diagnosed with intrahepatic bile duct cancer. The illness completely disrupted his life, taking him from the stage he loved to a hospital bed.
I know that what is even more unbearable than physical pain is the regret of never being able to stand on the stage again. And what our nursing staff can do, besides providing professional nursing care, is to preserve his dignity and warm his heart. From then on, I was always by Xiangge's hospital bedside.
The side effects of the treatment kept him up all night. Once, after I helped him wipe away the cold sweat on his forehead, he suddenly said in a hoarse voice, "Sister, don't you feel it's troublesome for me to be taken care of so attentively by you every day? Now, I have to rely on others just to turn over, and I'm living without any dignity."
Hearing his words, my heart was filled with bitterness. Squatting beside the hospital bed, I held his withered hand and looked at him, saying, "Brother Xiang, I don't feel any trouble at all. In the past, you brought happiness to others with your voice. Now it's our turn to accompany you and take good care of you. No matter what you look like, you deserve to be treated with care."
He bravely held back the tears welling up in his eyes, his lips quivering slightly. After a long moment, he whispered, "In my life, I have presided over hundreds of weddings and heard countless blessings. I never thought that in the end, I would receive the warmest comfort in a hospital room. Thank you, sister."
At that moment, I knew that even if we couldn't cure his illness, we could at least help him preserve the fact that he was still "Xiangge".
When the pain was less intense, he would look out the window and tell me, "I used to stand on the stage, with the lights shining, and watch the newcomers below looking so happy. It felt particularly meaningful. I still want to sing one more song."
I held his hand and said, "Brother Xiang, in our hearts, you are always on the stage. Your optimistic demeanor is the most beautiful song. When you get better, we will all be your audience and listen to you sing a good song."
His health was getting weaker and weaker, but he would still manage to squeeze out a few humorous remarks to make us laugh. I would always laugh and say to him, "Brother Xiang, you're still so amazing. You can make us laugh with just a few words. With you in the ward, it's much livelier." He would chuckle softly, a glimmer of light flashing in his eyes.
September 25, 2025, is a day I will never forget. Brother Xiang left us forever, leaving behind the stage he loved and the world he had brought happiness to countless people.
After he left, I often thought of him. I remembered him saying he would host my wedding, and I remembered him saying in a hoarse voice, "I still want to sing one more song.".
In the ward, there are so many different aspects of life hidden. We have seen too many scared, helpless, and confused expressions. But what we nurses can do is never just giving injections, dispensing medication, or changing drainage tubes. We will lean down to listen to patients talk about their half-life of glory and regret; we will say, "Don't be afraid, we are always here"; and we will let them know in the hardest times that "you are still you, and you deserve to be treated gently".
Narrative nursing doesn't require grandiose language. It may just be a simple "I'm from Mudanjiang too", a moment of listening while squatting down, or a "I don't think you're a burden at all".
With love as my brush and care as my ink, I will always remember Brother Xiang's story.
Article/Speech: Zhou Yufeng
Editor: Jia Jiguang
First instance: Huang Guifang
Second instance: Jiang Bei