My first confrontation with death, as a caregiver, occurred while I was still a nursing student in Tours. At the age of 25, I began one of my internships in a hospital dermatology service, in which several patients were assigned to me. I was particularly attached to one of them, an old man with cancer. During the treatments, we got into the habit of talking: he talked to me about his past life, his children, his grandchildren, the job he had done… Without knowing it, I was going through my first transfer with a patient, as can happen to us when one of them reminds us of a real-life situation or a loved one – here, my grandfather – and a special bond is forged.
This gentleman was then still rather autonomous, able to eat alone, to help during his toilet. The shock was all the greater because events were unexpectedly rapid. While I had left him in a rather stable situation the day before, his condition suddenly deteriorated during the night.
When I arrived in the early morning, his wife, who had stayed overnight that evening, came to fetch us: he had died. Entering the room to see his death was a first shock. Anticipating my emotion, my supervisor, the referring nurse who accompanied me, offered to take care of it alone, reassuring me that I could go out if I felt the need.
Alone with the memory
Inside me, I was crestfallen. But, at the time, I did everything not to show it and not have to admit a certain sensitivity. The idea that a carer should not show his emotions, this culture of the medical environment which imposes not to show the slightest weakness, was then a notion very anchored in me – I have since come back from it. I also believe that it was really important to me to continue the support work started with this patient to the end. I replied that everything was fine, and that I was going to take care of the last care, those which must follow the death.
I then discovered a deeply intimate way of confronting death. If the doctor in charge of the patient often has the difficult task of having to announce the death to relatives, the nurse is in close contact with the body of the deceased, to clean it. Later, I realized that never in my entire career have I taken so much time or given so much attention as on that day, a truly pivotal moment for me. After finishing the treatment, I asked to be taken out for five minutes, so that I could catch my breath.
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