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[This I Believe] 【整理】2016-04-23&04-30 用悲伤向生命致敬

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[This I Believe] 【整理】2016-04-23&04-30 用悲伤向生命致敬

本帖最后由 qingchengshan 于 2016-5-10 15:38 编辑 “我的信念”是美国国家公共广播电台节目,每期会邀请来自各行各业、不同阶层的人士朗读自己的文章,围绕这个题目讲述个人经历和人生信念。在这里听一个平凡的美国人用自己的声音讲述他们的故事,从这里里发现、理解和相信自己成功的原因。大多的故事来自于美国人,但是对美好生活的追求和对幸福的期许,没有国界。

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A Way to Honor Life


Nurse Cortney Davis frequently encounters grief. For years, she sought to counter it with cheer and consolation, but now believes grief is to be embraced as a way of honoring of the fragility of life.


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I believe in grief. Almost every day, when I walk into the hospital where I work as a nurse practitioner, I hear crying, moaning or wailing: A young woman has miscarried; an elderly widower is holding his wife’s belongings; a mother stands guard over her badly burned child.

 

Once I would have rushed to comfort these people. Uncomfortable myself with their grief, I’d want to ease their sadness with my cheer and consolation. I’d hug a patient and tell her to “try to get pregnant next month.” I would reassure the widower, telling him, “Your wife had a long life.” I’d enter the burned child’s room in intensive care with a smile rather than encouraging the mother to weep in my arms.

 

When my own mother died I was terrified, confused about how I was expected to act. Was I allowed to be the grieving daughter, or should I be the competent, grief-denying professional? I held my mother’s wrist, counting her pulse as it slowed. After her last breath, I rang for the nurse. Heart pounding, I waved good-bye to my mother, her gray hair bright against the sheets, and said, “Bye Mom,” in the cheery voice I’d practiced all my life. I didn’t know then that I could have climbed into bed and held her; that I should have wailed when she was gone.

 

It wasn’t until I had stayed with many dying patients and, finally, with my dying father, that I allowed myself to grieve — for my parents, for those lost patients, for all their loved ones who, as I once did, held back their tears. At my father’s death I cried like a child, not caring that I made the gulping noises of unrestrained mourning. Now, years later, I know that it is both necessary and human for us to wallow, each in our own way, in grief.

 

I no longer comfort others with false cheer. In the hospital, where my encounters with patients are ever more distanced by sterile gloves, computer protocols, and the pressures of time, one way I can still be present is during their moments of grief. I don’t encourage anyone to move on, to replace, to remarry, or put the photos or the memories away. Grief must be given its time.

 

I believe that both the caregivers and the cared-for should be free to scream and cry and fall to the floor — if not actually, then at least in the heart. I believe that grief, fully expressed, will change over time into something less overpowering, even granting us a new understanding, a kind of double vision that comprehends both the beauty and fragility of life at the same time.

 

When I grieve, when I stand by others as they grieve, even in the midst of seemingly unbearable sorrow, grief becomes a way to honor life — a way to cling to every fleeting, precious moment of joy.”

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[Homework]2016-04-23&04-30 用悲伤向生命致敬

Cortney Davis didn't plan to become a nurse, she was divorced with two children and needed a job that was flexible and paid well, over time though she came to love the profession and caring for patients, she acquired an unexpected belief that now guides her in her approach to the work, here is Cortney Davis with her essay for this I believe.
I believe in grief, almost every day when I walk into the hospital where I work as a nurse practitioner, I hear crying, mourning or wailing, a young woman has miscarried, an elderly widower is holding his wife's belongings, a mother stands guard over her badly burnt child. Once I would have rushed to comfort these people, uncomfortable myself with their grief, I'd want to ease their sadness with my cheer and consolation, I'd hug patient and tell her to try to get pregnant next month, I would reassure the widower telling him your wife had a long life, I'd enter the burnt child's room in intensive care with a smile rather than encouraging the mother to weep in my arms.
When my own mother died, I was terrified, confused about how I was expected to act, was I allowed to be the grieving daughter? or should I be the competent grief denying professional? I held my mother's wrist, counting her pulses at it slowed, after her last breath, I rang for the nurse, heart pounding I waved goodbye to my mother, her grey hair bright against the sheets, and said bye mom' in the cheery voice I practiced all my life, I didn't know then that I could have climbed into bed and held her, that I should have wailed when she was gone.
It wasn't until I had stayed with many dying patients and finally with my dying father that I allowed myself to grieve for my parents, for those lost patients, for all their loved ones who as I once did held back their tears. At my father's death I cried like a child, not caring that I made the gulping noises of unrestrained mourning. Now years later I know that it is both necessary and human for us to wallow, each in our own way in grief.
I no longer comfort others with false cheer, in the hospital when my encounters with patients are ever more distanced by sterile gloves, computer protocols and the pressures of time, one way I can still be present is during their moments of grief, I don't encourage anyone to move on, to replace, to remarry or put the photos or the memories away, grief must be given its time.
I believe that both the caregivers and the cared for should be free to scream and cry and fall to the floor, if not actually, then at least in the heart.
I believe that grief fully expressed will change over time into something less overpowering, even granting us a new understanding, a kind of double vision that comprehends both the beauty and fragility of life at the same time.
When I grieve, when I stand by others as they grieve, even in the midst of seemingly unbearable sorrow, grief becomes a way to honor life, a way to cling to every fleeting precious moment of joy.
Cortney Davis with her essay for this I believe, Davis told us that the opportunities for tenderness in nursing are important to her, and she hopes that the profession doesn't move too far toward the technical and away from the bedside.

This post was generated by put listening repetition system,  Check the original dictation thread!
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