A Nurse Remembers

A Nurse Remembers

The receptionist put the box of biscuits on the staff room table and picked up the card taped to the box. “It’s from the Wakefields.” She proceeded to read out the card to the nurses collapsed on the sofa, nursing their cups of tea. “Many thanks to the wonderful vet Helen, who took care of our dog Ruby her whole life. Helen helped us with Ruby through all the years – her accident, her heart trouble and her final passing. We will be forever grateful.” The receptionist let the card fall on to the table. “Do you think Helen will remember which one of her patients Ruby was?”

“Doubt it,” snorted one of the other nurses. Becky didn’t say anything, she couldn’t. She remembered who Ruby was.

Ruby was the puppy that Becky had in socialization classes. The little spaniel with ears so long they nearly swept the floor. Becky showed Ruby’s owners how to comb out the hair behind those marvellous ears so that it didn’t get matted. Becky got Ruby to do her first ‘sit’ on command using a treat to coax the pup into position. Later, Becky gave Ruby her first nail clip, stopping frequently to praise the young dog so that it wouldn’t be afraid of having its feet handled.

When Ruby was hit by a car, Helen, the vet did reduce the fracture, spending many hours in theatre recrafting the structure of the bone. But it was Becky who sat with Ruby when she recovered from the anaesthetic, crying out in pain and confusion. Becky administered additional pain relief and then sat with the spaniel, stroking her and encouraging her to eat. Without proper nutrition, Ruby wouldn’t heal as quickly so Becky sat beside the dog, patiently offering piece after piece of chicken until the bowl was empty.

When it was time for Ruby to try walking on her repaired leg, it was Becky who carried the dog outdoors and led her step by step across the grass exercise area, pausing when Ruby needed a rest. Each day they progressed a bit more, Becky providing physiotherapy, ice packs and motivation so that Ruby could return to full function. When Ruby was able to walk all the way across the yard, Becky hugged the small dog and told her what a good girl she was. On discharge, Becky taught the owners how to do the physiotherapy exercises and made follow up appointments to assess Ruby’s progress.

It was Becky who monitored the anaesthetic during Ruby’s spay operation, recording the heart and respiratory rate every five minutes, checking on Ruby’s mucus membranes, her oxygen and carbon dioxide levels. After the surgery, Becky fitted the dreaded ‘cone of shame’ onto Ruby and apologized for the inconvenience. Ruby looked at her with liquid brown eyes and Becky told her the cone was only for 10 days. She warned Ruby’s owners that they would need to cut back on Ruby’s food now that she was spayed.

Two years later, Becky saw Ruby in obesity clinics as her owners had forgotten to cut back on calories post Ruby’s neutering. Every month for a year, Becky weighed Ruby and gave her owners tips on weight loss, praising them for even the tiniest progress. Ruby never returned to her svelte form but Becky was at least able to get a few kilograms off her, helping the dog to live a few extra years.

Ruby started panting when exercised and one day actually fainted. She was booked in for a cardiac scan. Becky clipped the russet coat, allowing the ultrasound probe to make contact with the skin. She held Ruby in place while the vet scanned the chest and she wanted to curse when she saw the useless flapping of the faulty heart valve, indicating severe heart disease in Becky’s canine friend. Later, Becky counted out the tablets that Ruby would need to take every day and made a medication chart for the owners so that they could keep track of when to give Ruby her pills.

Becky saw Ruby quite frequently after that. Ruby needed to have checks every three months to make sure the medication was working and to make adjustments in the treatment protocol as Ruby’s condition worsened. Once, she took blood from Ruby, shaving an area on the neck and inserting the needle into the jugular vein. Ruby was frightened, but another nurse held the dog firmly so that Becky could get the sample. She kissed Ruby on the nose afterwards and gave her a piece of liver cake. Ruby was forgiving. Becky reminded Ruby to avoid the extra snacks. Keeping her weight down would ease the strain on Ruby’s heart.

The day came when Ruby was panting nearly constantly and her tongue had taken on a blue tinge. The medications were no longer enough to keep Ruby comfortable. Euthanasia was the only option. Wiping away tears and kicking herself for being unprofessional, Becky placed the intravenous catheter in the dog’s short leg and then carried Ruby back to the consulting room for the vet to give the final injection. After the owners had left, Becky took some fur clippings from Ruby to send to the owners in their sympathy card. She signed the card, ‘From all the staff’ though she had wanted to put her name down and make it personal. It felt personal. She had been Ruby’s nurse from puppyhood to death, 13 years of care. Becky made a paw impression for the owners as well. It was what she would have wanted if Ruby had been her dog.

It was thoughtful of the owners to bring biscuits and card when they came to collect Ruby’s ashes. Becky should have gone out to the front desk to see how they were coping with their grief; it was what she usually did with bereaved clients. Instead, she gave herself a few minutes to remember Ruby’s big, brown eyes, her soft fur and her floppy ears. On the other side, maybe Ruby would remember the nurse that had cared for her all those years, even if her owner’s didn’t.