Learning to Sign
I have been a CNA for years. I have cared for thousands of patients, and yet suddenly, this last couple weeks I have come across a challenge that I've never encountered before: A deaf patient. Talk about a reminder to be grateful for these wonderful bodies we have been given, because I've abruptly learned how much I rely on my hearing to get me through the day.
This particular patient has come to us with the inability to speak more than an unclear word or two, she has barely enough motor skills to sign a little, and most the staff hasn't the slightest idea how to communicate with her. This brings up a HUGE problem in health care. We have frequently had patients who speak another language (generally Spanish) and we cannot interact with them, and it becomes a very frustrating thing for staff and patient alike. Thankfully because of an aunt that is deaf, I know a little, (a very little) sign language, and so I've been trying to communicate to her as much as possible in order to learn more. Being back at work is hard on me, being back home is extremely hard on me, and I've been feeling really trapped and unhappy these last couple weeks, but every moment I spend in that room with her is completely joyful as she laughs at my poor signing and we pull faces at each other. Best of all, when she started to speak again I heard her garbled voice say "Love you" as I left the room, and now she says it every night as I leave. She makes me happy as we giggle at each other and try to understand what the other is saying.
Last night I went into work on my night off, and only one CNA on shift knew sign language, so as the nurse approached her with her medication in applesauce and tried to give it to her for her pain, she refused. I won't forget the way she looked at me with confusion, and as I signed that the nurse had medication for her pain, she just gave me a look of trust, turned to the nurse, and opened her mouth. I was so grateful for that small moment. It wasn't a big thing to anyone watching, but to me it meant the world. To me it meant that someone needs me, that someone relies on me, and that I have something to offer. I believe that in moments of struggle, times of trial, or seasons of grief, we have special people sent to us to buoy us through those waves. She has been one of mine.
This particular patient has come to us with the inability to speak more than an unclear word or two, she has barely enough motor skills to sign a little, and most the staff hasn't the slightest idea how to communicate with her. This brings up a HUGE problem in health care. We have frequently had patients who speak another language (generally Spanish) and we cannot interact with them, and it becomes a very frustrating thing for staff and patient alike. Thankfully because of an aunt that is deaf, I know a little, (a very little) sign language, and so I've been trying to communicate to her as much as possible in order to learn more. Being back at work is hard on me, being back home is extremely hard on me, and I've been feeling really trapped and unhappy these last couple weeks, but every moment I spend in that room with her is completely joyful as she laughs at my poor signing and we pull faces at each other. Best of all, when she started to speak again I heard her garbled voice say "Love you" as I left the room, and now she says it every night as I leave. She makes me happy as we giggle at each other and try to understand what the other is saying.
Last night I went into work on my night off, and only one CNA on shift knew sign language, so as the nurse approached her with her medication in applesauce and tried to give it to her for her pain, she refused. I won't forget the way she looked at me with confusion, and as I signed that the nurse had medication for her pain, she just gave me a look of trust, turned to the nurse, and opened her mouth. I was so grateful for that small moment. It wasn't a big thing to anyone watching, but to me it meant the world. To me it meant that someone needs me, that someone relies on me, and that I have something to offer. I believe that in moments of struggle, times of trial, or seasons of grief, we have special people sent to us to buoy us through those waves. She has been one of mine.
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