“Team” Nursing
LeAnn Thieman, LPN

When I graduated from nursing school three decades ago, our hospital used team nursing, where patient care was divided between RNs, LPNs, nurses’ aides, and student nurses. While that care module is no longer used, I think the concept should be. We truly worked as a team then. We helped and supported each other — not just physically in caring for the patients, but emotionally and mentally as well. With little concern about who had the highest degree or who had been there the longest, we mentored and cared for each other.

During these trying times in healthcare, we need more than ever to guide and mentor one another — and we have a responsibility to do so. Students offer a lot in the way of mentoring for us “old timers.” They inspire us with fresh enthusiasm and current knowledge while we offer them years of experience and sage wisdom. Often, the way a student nurse or new-hire is treated affects his or her attitude and performance as a nurse forever.

This story by Viola Ruelke from Chicken Soup for the Nurse’s Soul shows how powerfully we can influence each other.

A Part of the Team

In the summer of 1945 my father directed a camp for inner-city children and teens. He hired two young women to be the nurses for that camping season. They allowed me to be their shadow, and I watched everything they did and listened to everything they said. I sat quietly in a corner of the infirmary each morning as campers came through for treatment of sore throats, cuts and bruises, poison ivy, mosquito bites, and homesickness. Some days they even let me help clean up the infirmary after sick call. If I was really good, they took me with them on cabin visits to check on the sick campers.

My father was alone one morning when he drove a truckload of garbage to burn at the dump. When the trash was emptied from the truck, he lit a match and threw it onto the pile of rubble. He stepped back, expecting the garbage to slowly burn. He waited. No flame; nothing was burning. Dad bent over and lit another match.

An explosion wrapped him in flames.

He rolled alone on the ground to put out the flames, got into the truck, and sped back to the campgrounds. He drove up the road toward the dining hall, blasting the horn. People came running from everywhere. Orders were shouted to those around. I watched, frightened and confused, hardly able to believe what was happening around me.

Suddenly a station wagon came to a screeching halt right behind the garbage truck. The doors flew open and out jumped the two camp nurses. They guided my father into the back seat of the station wagon, got in the car and sat on either side of him, and wrapped his arms in wet towels. The car sped off to the nearest hospital emergency room where he was treated for several days.

When he returned to the camp he resembled a mummy. His arms, hands, neck and head were covered with large white bandages, with only his mouth and eyes showing. His bed was moved into the living room of the family cottage where the two nurses and my mother cared for him day and night. Each day they removed the large white bandages from his arms and neck, treated the areas, and applied fresh dressings to the wounds. Dad groaned with pain, but he never complained. When they finished this routine, he was always able to rest. That was the only time he could tolerate anyone touching him.

On the day he came home, I stood in the shadows of the room watching as they cared for him. I heard my name. One of the nurses was calling me. She told me they were giving me the responsibility of seeing that he had plenty to drink. I was also to feed him the meals the camp cook sent down to the cottage for him. So each day I sat at his bedside, ready to get whatever he needed. Sometimes he would have me read to him as he rested. Mother and the nurses praised me for being part of the team. Every day they told me my father was getting better because I gave him such “good nursing care.” I felt pride and satisfaction in being able to do something for someone hurting.

Those feelings stayed with me forever. I wonder if those camp nurses knew how they influenced the life of an 8-year-old child. I wonder if they ever imagined the impact they had in molding my 40-year career in nursing — 40 years as a member of healing teams.

LeAnn Thieman LPN is a motivational speaker and coauthor of Chicken Soup for the Nurse’s Soul, Chicken Soup for the Christian Woman’s Soul, and the upcoming Chicken Soup for the Caregiver’s Soul. To learn about her presentations or to get a signed copy of her books, see www.LeAnnThieman.com.