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Caring for the bedridden involves a lot of hard work, time and effort, which is why most people delegate the task to qualified nurses or nurse practitioners who come highly recommended from local hospitals or other healthcare settings. There are aspects to the task that only professional caregivers who are naturally endowed with the necessary patience and skills are able to satisfy.
When someone is confined to bed for a prolonged period of time because of an illness or a disability, the first thing that the person needs is compassion. They are at the mercy of someone for even the smallest things, so the nurse or caregiver in charge should take the effort to let them do things on their own as much as possible.
A sense of independence is most valuable to someone who is bedridden, so placing a table near the bed where ordinary things like a phone, newspapers, books, pens and pencils, writing materials, glasses, water and other necessities can be reached easily is of utmost importance.
Allow the patient to feed himself/herself if they are able to sit propped up in bed. Provide them with napkins and the required cutlery so that they are able to eat in comfort.
If the patient asks for a change of bed linen and sheets, accommodate their request without arguing that they were changed only that morning or recently. The comfort of the patient is most important when they’re constantly lying in bed.
Just because they are bedridden, there’s no need for them to look shabby. So help them dress well and look good even though they’re not going anywhere. A little makeup and a daily shave will do wonders for patients’ morale.
Provide them with some form of entertainment, books or television or papers, if they are able to sit up for some period of time.
Caregivers must ensure that they make quality time for themselves too in order to avoid burnout or job fatigue. A day off is the best way to recharge and rejuvenate so that you’re back and able to take care of the tasks at hand with the energy they deserve.
This post was contributed by Heather Johnson, who writes on the subject of Cruise Nursing. She invites your feedback at heatherjohnson2323 at gmail dot com.
The hospital that I worked at had a lot of patients with mental health problems in addition to the actual physical problems that they were being hospitalized for. This made it extrememly difficult to have the “average” number of patients (7). I was just thinking about how this patient who I had was a “swallower” and had to be one on one with a sitter in addition to having a nurse. Nothing that was of size that could be swallowed could be in the room. This patient had come in because he had swallowed a pencil. They attempted to get it out with endoscopy and could not, so they were forced to cut him open and SURPRISE!! They found a watch, batteries, and coins. This was not the first time that he had been opened up to retrieve objects.
I believe it was that same night that I had the patient that tried to hit me in the head with a quad cane. Yeah. And it hurt. He was at least sane enough to be scared when the security guys came up. He thought he was going to jail. I was able to give him medication (per dr’s order) to calm him down. Haldol, that is. We called it Vitamin H. The vitamin that the insane folks were lacking.
I did not get the “job of my dreams”, but rather the job any new grad typically gets stuck with: a night shift med surg floor. But I needed to be employed as I was the only one working in the family. The hospital was an older one that had double occupancy rooms and older equipment. They did not have the automatic “nurse on a stick” that I was used to having while in school. (this was a little skinny cart that had an automatic BP, temp, pulse, Oxygen saturation machine.) This all had to be done manually (which I later found was far more accurate!) But the one thing that this place had was a computer system. Everything that I was used to writing out by hand could now be done in the computer. I was impressed and a little intimidated too. But I figured I’d get the hang of it quick enough. Little did I know that the population of patients would be the thing I’d hate the most.
So, the day came to start the computer training. I actually CRIED at the lunch break stating that I was either going to have to quit my job or get fired because I could not learn this freaking computer system. My poor husband, scared, kept reassuring me that if I could make it through college, that I could probably learn their system. Well, when I came back from the lunch break, there was this older nurse who was learning to transition to the computer system. The instructor for the class said “Okay, take your mouse and click the black box on the screen.” Well, the poor older lady picked up her mouse and put it up on the screen on the computer (literally) and began clicking it. Everyone began to look after a long silence and the instructor trying to figure out what the hell she was doing! After that, I KNEW I could learn this system!! 
I finally graduated from nursing school with an Associate’s Degree (2 year degree). I was ecstatic. But now I had to find a job. And wouldn’t you know that of all of the places that were experiencing a nursing shortage, I’d be in the one place that WASN’T having much of a shortage!! Yeah, I interviewed for three jobs and got two out of three offers. I ended up taking the third offer. It was an hour and a half interview. I got all kinds of wild questions which included: “What do YOU think the pillars of nursing are?” and “Tell me about a time when you have deviated from policy.” Yeah. Are these like trap questions or what?! I bombed the first interview having no idea of how to answer these types of questions. I don’t believe anything really prepared me for this part. I wish that my school had given a one day seminar or something of the like to help us with interviewing.
So, my first job was to work nights on a medical-surgical floor. I swore up and down I was not going to work on a med-surg floor and I was CERTAINLY not going to work nights. Guess what….I did both.
Another patient that I had during my ICU clinical rotations was an older man who pretty much had one foot in the grave. And the other one on a banana peel. It was awfully sad as he did not have any family at all except one niece who lived far away and would call occassionally to see how he was doing. It was my first experience witnessing death as it happened. I was in the room when the old man passed. It was so strange to see the flat line on the monitor and then take him off of the ventilator.
A little while later, we began to clean him up, put a toe tag on him and then get the body bag ready to put him in. Only, his chest started to move up and down like he was breathing. I almost had a heart attack right then and there on the spot. I mean, geez, what if he really was alive and we sent him down to the morgue?? This freaked me out. I went over very carefully and felt for a pulse: nothing. I then listened for a couple of minutes with my stethoscope to his heart: again, nothing. But his freaking chest was going up and down!!!
Well, apparently, there is a such a thing as reflexes that make this happen.
The third semester was getting to work in the OB/GYN and pediatric units at the same local hospital, with some rotations in a much larger place with a NICU and also had high risk OB patients. Amazingly, I liked these two areas the least. I never got to see a vaginal birth in nursing school. All of my patients had complications and had to have C-sections. I was taking care of a postpartum patient on Sept 11th when someone gasped whose mother in law had called to tell them that a “kamakazi pilot had flown a plane into the World Trade Center”. I remember hanging out in the nurses’ lounge and watching all of the things unfold that day in there and on patient’s televisions. It was just awful. Our instructor’s daughter was a flight attendant in New York. Our instructor had a complete nervous breakdown that day (not knowing if her daughter had been killed or not—which thankfully she was fine), and she never returned to teaching. That was her last day with the school.
There were a few babies there born on that day. It will not be one we forget anytime soon.
I am honestly having a hard time remembering my first patient in the hospital, but do remember it being the first time that I would have to try and get someone on a bedpan by myself. In the nursing home, we teamed up a lot to work faster. But now, we had to learn to manage our time as well. It took me around an hour to get this poor person on the bedpan, wait for them to finish, and get them off and clean them. And guess what?? It spilled. So, now, after making a bed on a bedridden patient, I had to do it all over again. It was horrible. I kept thinking, “This is NOT what I signed up to do”. It was not until later that I truly learned how important it was to know everything from the ground up about skills and how to care for a patient because I would certainly be training, delegating, and evaluating those who were also going to be doing these things.
We finally got to give medications through the IV, in addition to starting IV lines. My first patient that I started an IV on was a forty year old man who had Diabetes Type I, and numerous complications from it. I can still see his face grimacing from such pain. His kidneys had failed from diabetic nephropathy, his lower limbs had experienced diabetic neuropathy, renal hypertension, and he peripheral vascular disease with NUMEROUS arterial ulcerations that had become ridden with gangrene. It was just awful. He was a very sweet man, but looked like he had lived a very hard life.
His current IV line was old and he needed a new one. In addition, he had just gotten an order for surgery to amputate both legs below the knees. I had to put in a really big IV since he was going to surgery and it was not going to be easy. But I managed to strike oil with the first try (and I’m sure this poor patient was happy too). I went in later to give an IV push antibiotic and ended up sticking myself with the needle (this was before hospitals had gone to primarily needleless systems. I rushed out of the room and began to cry. I was so upset. Now I get embarrassed thinking about all of my ramblings about how I had waited until I was married to have sex, and now I was gonna contract Aids and hepatitis anyway from a freaking patient. Living right did me no good at all!! I had no evidence that this patient had any diseases other than the non-communicable ones that I listed above. But really, the guys looked like he had probably gotten around. A lot. It wasn’t like I had been stuck with a needle from some little 80 year old grandmother (not that they couldn’t have anything either). But I just knew right then and there that I was going to die.
So, down to the Emergency Room we went and they drew a bunch of blood to run mine for HIV, hepatitis, etc. Of course, my was negative. But they were going to have to ask for the patient’s consent to test him, which he thankfully gave. I was so worried all week that I would periodically call his hospital room just to hear his voice to see if he was alive. Of course I’d hang up immediately. I know that was horrible of me, but I was so scared that he had something and was going to die and I needed to know his status – at least I thought I did. Anyway, all of his tests came back negative also. Boy, that was a stressful time!
The following week, the same patient was there in the hospital after having his bilateral amputations of the lower legs. I got to do an entire teaching session on “Phantom Pains” while my instructor watched and listened. He was so excited to know that it was normal for him to still feel pain in his lower legs and feet even though they weren’t there anymore!! He understood then that part of the nerve was left, and yet severed, so it was confused. He even smiled.
That poor man. I came back the third week and he was somebody else’s patient, but was going to have to have both upper limbs amputated as well. He would be only a torso. He was clearly getting depressed. Completely understandable. He had a young daughter and was divorced. I never saw him after that clinical. I have a feeling he probably passed away soon after as he continued to deteriorate.
I have to admit though, when asked in an interview who my most interesting patient was, he came to mind.
I think my most stressful day at clinical in the nursing home was near the end of my rotation. We FINALLY had a resident who needed a catheter changed. She had an indwelling foley catheter and was bedridden. A very nice lady who was more than willing to have students learn at her expense. Our instructor had us huddle together and asked who wanted to change the catheter. Nobody volunteered. Honestly, this was primarily because we were told that if we did a skill improperly, we would possibly fail. So, the obvious choice was just to never perform skills for as long as no one caught on, and then just learn them once we graduated, when we weren’t getting a grade for it. Okay, so this is a rather stupid idea, but it did run through our heads. I mean, wouldn’t it make sense to provide a more conducive environment for learning, rather than one that was motivated only by fear of failing. We were frequently so afraid that we just went blank many times, simply from fear.
There was a lot of opportunity for practice on a dummy in the nursing skills lab. All of your catheter supplies came in this nice kit so it was easy for you to maintain sterile technique and get it all down pat. But let me tell you, it is NOTHING like putting it in a real person. First of all, women are FAR harder to insert a catheter in than a man is. (That is, unless the man has an enlarged prostate and then you continue to meet resistance and the catheter coils within him. Ouch!) So, this one poor girl, we’ll call Hope, was selected. The instructor stated that she’d be back in 15 minutes and asked Hope to review her skills and collect her supplies and they would meet in the room. Hope began frantically reviewing the procedure and then went to the supply room. Poor thing, I was just as overwhelmed as she was. Okay, so you look for “catheter kit”, right? At least that’s what they had in our skills lab. Well, this nursing home was being rather cost effective and decided it was much cheaper to not only use a different company that sold catheter supplies, but to also buy each piece separately. You had to also remember exactly what all was in that so easy and wonderful catheter kit that they didn’t have there. So, you choose what size French catheter you want. You mean there’s a difference? Uhm, maybe the size in the middle? Okay, a 14 french sounds good. (No idea what the difference is between it and the others except it looks a little bigger.) Now, you get to (without wasting) decide how many times you’re going to screw up, so you’ll want to get that many catheters. Now you have to pick out a bag. Do you want a regular foley bag, a leg bag, or a bag with a urometer? Uh, not sure she looked beforehand, so we’ll go with a regular foley bag. Okay, we need sterile gloves, and a few pair in case you mess up. Okay, choose a size. I have no idea what size I wear, and Hope didn’t either, because the kit comes with a one size fits all. Again, she just picked one of the middle range sizes—Hope looked like she had average hands, anyway. Were we forgetting anything? Yes!! We needed some sort of cleanser to clean the lady with before inserting the catheter. They didn’t have those super nice prepackaged betadine swabs like we were used to. We only saw this bottle of betadine that was big enough to put in fifty catheters. Were we allowed to take that into the room? Well, it was all we could find; so we took it. But what were we gonna clean her with? This stumped us. There were none of those gigantic cotton swabs like we’d previously used. Maybe some sterile gauze? Grabbed it and took off.
We met the instructor in the room. She stands there waiting for poor Hope to begin. The lady resident was so sweet and let our entire group of seven students watch as Hope began to shake just opening the packages. She opened them out of order (not being used to doing it this way), the catheter size was incorrect, and the gloves were too small. We were not allowed to take the betadine container into the room because it was now considered “contaminated” and we had to waste it all after using it. Apparently, we were supposed to get a sterile urine specimen container and pour it into that and that could be brought into the room. We forgot a chucks pad to put under her bottom so as not to stain her bed and mattress. What a nightmare!!
Okay, so after correcting all of this, Hope began. One student held a flashlight shining on the woman’s private parts as seven students and one instructor all watched. Uh, where’s the hole? We were all looking at the instructor and Hope wondering what in the hell you do when you can’t find the hole! She had a bladder and uterus that had dropped which severely complicated things. Uh, well, finally she found a hole, so she inserted it. No urine flowed back into the tube. Okay, so was her bladder simply empty, or had she stuck it into the wrong hole? We learned that she had stuck it into her vagina instead. She left it in the wrong hole and began to search for the correct one. So, we remembered this trick where you ask the patient to “bear down” like there gonna pee (praying they don’t pee in your face). When they do, the urethra “winks” at you, and for a brief moment you see it open. Well, it worked!!! We saw it, and poor Hope made a second attempt. She kept pushing it up into her and she struck gold!! Urine, that is. The entire group applauded. It was kind of comical. The poor lady resident was trying to give Hope all kind of tips, but none of them were remotely applicable. But the resident felt she had just given the group the greatest experience of our lives. She was so proud she helped.
That was one heck of an hour on one of our last days. I can still see this scene in my head.
I occasionally think about this one resident in the nursing home that I did my clinicals at. I remember coming in the door each week and hearing her CONTINUOUSLY mutter (very loudly) “Oh me, oh me, oh me, oh me, oh me” and would keep going. Stopping only long enough to get a breath to continue saying that. For some reason I liked her. She held a baby doll and kept talking about her baby that died. I have no idea if this were actually something that had happened to her a long time ago, or she had just gotten confused and convinced herself of this. At any rate, she would speak as if the baby doll were a real baby and she had to take care of it. Any conversations with her were short and revolved around this doll. I never saw any family come and visit her while I was there (but I was only there two days a week). I wonder if she is still alive today.
