It was last winter when my mother contacted me shortly before starting work. One of my cousins fell ill with Corona – so severe that he had now come to the hospital and was immediately put on ventilation. All of this happened in a country where I know that medical care doesn’t work as well as it does in Germany. The whole family was very worried about my cousin. Things weren’t going well for him.
Shortly after this bad news, I entered the intensive care unit and began my shift. I was confused and worried – and had to take care of corona patients myself. I was constantly reminded of my cousin and wondered what was happening to him. I was close to tears going to the bathroom to calm down. There I said to myself: “Pola, your head is somewhere else, even though you are needed here at work – it’s not fair to your patients.”
The lecture worked, the experience was a key moment for me. Our work as nurses involves observation and empathy. However, when the sensors for these abilities are blocked by our own thoughts and feelings, then this part of our work works less well. This has no patient-endangering effects. But we are also not as attentive as usual.
Intensive care specialist Pola Gülberg from the Ebersberger district clinic.
(Photo: Peter Hinz-Rosin)
So I wrote my mother a few more tips for my cousin to clear my head of it. Then I put my cell phone away and was there for my patients.
Since then, I’ve been more careful than before not to bring any stress factors into my work. Otherwise, that’ll piss me off. My means of doing this is my commute to work. I use it to isolate myself from private things at home.
When the weather is nice and I’m early, I like to ride my motorbike to the clinic. Sometimes I stop on a hill, stand in the grass and take a moment to watch the sunrise. Although these are only small moments in nature, I can draw an incredible amount of energy from them.
Arriving at the clinic, I go to my locker, slip out of my private clothes and into tunic and work shoes. I put my pens in the right breast pocket and my notebook in the left. Then I leave the changing room, disinfect my hands and go up to the ward. I do that just as consciously as I do when I drive to work. Because even these little rituals help me to settle into my shift, especially the change of clothes.
By the way, my cousin has recovered.
Pola Gülberg is an intensive care nurse. In this column, the 38-year-old talks about her work at the district clinic in Ebersberg every week. The collected texts are below sueddeutsche.de/thema/Auf Station to find.