What does patient care look like in the OR? I’ve written before about patient care, and how different patient care is in the OR compared to other nursing specialties. But today, I want to look at patient care from a slightly different angle, and take a closer look at how we treat, or should treat, each of our patients.
We see people from all walks of life in our ORs. From members of the military, policemen, firemen, teachers, prominent social figures and other “famous people,” to victims of violence, those suffering from drug addiction, the homeless, and prisoners – we see it all. And, it can be tempting to treat one type of patient better than the other based on who they are, or based on our own stereotypes and biases. But how we treat our patients should never be based on supposed “worth” due to a difference in social status or lifestyle choice.
Think about it, when the stretcher rolls into the room and the blankets come off, does social status still matter? Is the care that we give solely determined by our patient’s perceived value?
I’ve been mulling over patient care in the OR for a few days now, and I’ve been reminded of this truth:
The operating table accepts all people without distinction – and so should we.
When a person lays on our table, they become completely helpless. Our patients sleep, peacefully unaware that anesthesia is keeping them alive. They don’t ever see the countless tasks we perform before the surgery even begins. And they don’t experience their procedure, but they go off to sleep, trusting us to take care of them and to deliver them back to their waiting family.
That’s a huge responsibility, and it’s one that we shouldn’t take lightly. The care that we give isn’t just summed up in the myriad of tasks that we perform during our cases, and it shouldn’t become so commonplace that our patients are treated with indifference. Our patients aren’t just “the gallbladder in OR 7” or “the total knee in OR 4.” Each patient is a person, not just a procedure. They are someone’s father, mother, husband, wife, sister, brother, son, or daughter. And if we let that reality guide our practice, then our patient care will always be of the highest quality.
Every patient deserves to be given the best care that we can possibly give them.
When a patient lays on our table, exposed and vulnerable, no matter what title they carry, or what social history they may have, suddenly there is no distinction. The operating table strips away social status and everyone is equal. But what remains is fundamentally the most important thing of all: their humanity.
We would do well to remember the humanity of our patients. Everyone lays on the same table, from professional athletes to CEOs to prisoners. The operating table holds them all equally. And when the drapes go up, titles and status are erased, and all that remains is a human being entrusting themselves to our care.
Melanie