Submitted Late

The science of nursing can be read and felt through our senses. The circumstances can be tested, changed, results can be observed and measured, and conclusions can be drawn from the phenomena. The science of nursing cannot veer from rote memorization of cold, hard facts for it is indispensible in the dispensing of competent service. It is procedural, structured, and proven, otherwise, experimental ways that do not benefit at all costs, however small, have no means of entry into a practice sanctioned by the heaviest of all, life. And yet, nursing is also an art – subjective, elusive, unique, crafted by those taking the great effort to develop ones skill, beautiful and uplifting. Like a canvas of definite charcoal-sketched images or landscapes brought to life through oil painting with rivers glistening, it is subject to an observer’s interpretation. Like any fine art, it can conquer feelings, subdue hope, or provide it. Sometimes, it is light at the end of the tunnel, while others can criticize it for lack of depth, a mere replica of some outstanding work. Where do we stand in all of these? In a profession wherein in our country, more than half a million are registered, how do we differ from the stereotyped image of caring lesser and lesser as excuses predominate the papers and are falsely attributed to their causes. The beginning is a promise for all of us, and yet when we hang in the middle phases, our patience also hangs in the balance. Where has compassion gone? Where were those things that characterize our humanity, our capacity to understand and practice beyond the scope of what we see? Where is the grit of patience in all that we hear? Where do our virtues stand when tested by the most trivial of all situations?

Why, do we have a grand encompassing picture of our true obligations? Do we just nurse what bleeds, or what is pained, or what has been ablated? I dare not think our capacities can be reduced to these trivialities! We nurse, for others to live, and it is the most difficult of all tasks set forth before us. It is the equivalent of conquering a person’s resignation for life and falsely equating its purpose to what one can physically accomplish. Medicine cannot cure all the pains of disability, and that is the realm we can extend our help. It is no great leap at first. Nothing outstanding of measure rightfully presents itself in the first day of trying. But the significance cannot be understated. A story has to begin somewhere, sometime. Its middle, denouement, and end relates with the foundation it has been established. If we began with sincerity, with unquestionable desire to help, with unfailing techniques that do not prematurely crouch at the instance of being shamed or of remarks that border rudeness that is all but a façade of a deeper hurt, then we are in for a longer haul. The promise of nursing is not dying. We can help generate what is lost, and we can help them appreciate the meaning of an experience well lived that is resonant beyond what one can see, and therefore, encompassing in its breadth to effect change.