The Infinite Powers of Warm Water

I'm in love with grooming humans and animals. I've been training someone in the ICU and now that he's doing most of the work, I have time to do whatever I want with our patients. Having my way with a patient means giving them a badass bath. Our hospital encourages the use of these disposable wipey cloths to bath people. 

While they're convenient when you lack time, nothing compares to a soap and water, sponge bath. I know that's what I'd want if I was laid up in the hospital. Patients and family members tend to agree. In fact, there have been many times I feel more gratitude from patients and families for giving a good bed bath than any of the crazy life saving stuff we do. As a nurse I often find myself in an ethical dilemma with some of the heroic measures we take with people. I can be guaranteed that when I take the time to give someone a bath I am doing a good thing for my patient. I am always left with a feeling of satisfaction.

Two weeks ago my trainee and I cared for a man who had been on the unit for over two months. I noticed that his family had hung some pre-hospital photos on the wall. Then I looked at my patient. I couldn't change the fact that he had lost weight and now had a tracheostomy, but I could attempt to restore his beard to it's usual glory. That day, I had the pleasure of not just bathing him, but trimming his beard and nose hairs.  Not much changed for him medically that afternoon, but he looked great and I was excited for his family to see him.

Another one of my favorite days at work was when a group of nurses decided to turn an ICU room into a salon. We fashioned a sink out of a bedpan and a suction setup to wash the very long hair of a young woman who had been far too sick to leave her bed for months. During that time she had undergone countless procedures and surgeries. Her hair was a matted diaster. That morning, it took four MacGyver spirited nurses and two hours, but she got an authentic shampoo and trim. It was awesome. 

                

Back on the farm, I'd noticed poop smears on some of my eggs. In the coop a couple of my hens were strutting around with dirty rear ends. I did my homework and discovered that chickens need baths too. Online, one person claimed that her chicken enjoyed getting bubble baths. If this was true, where did the saying "madder than a wet hen" come from? 

Willing or not, two poopy butts were getting a bath. I prepared three buckets of warm water. The first had flea and tick shampoo, the second was just water and the third had a little vinegar to give their feathers some shine. I returned to the coop and tricked Steve into leaving. Surely he would try to kill me if he saw me chasing around one of his girls. Punky put up a good fight but I triumphed. The good part of catching a chicken is that once you get them and hold them in such a way that they can't flap about, they stop fighting.

I brought her to my back porch where I had set up a chicken salon complete with buckets, towels, chicken nail clippers and scissors. Dreams were coming true for me today.

I slowly dipped Punky into the warm sudsy bucket, feet first.

Fully emersed, except for her head, she really did seem to be enjoying it. I massaged the soapy water into her dirty feathers. 

 

I took my time. No complaints from punky. 

Then I dunked her into the two remaining buckets, still with no struggle. I wrapped her in a towel pressing the water from her feathers. I took advantage of her confinement and trimmed her nails. Again, absolutely no resistance. I then blow dried her bum on low and massaged olive oil into her comb. Overall, a rewarding experience for both of us. 

Nellie really enjoyed the blow dry portion of her bath.

She didn't mind the bath part either. Here, she just bobbed along without me even holding her.

Recently, a patient on our unit was given permission to take off the ICU monitoring equipment and take a real shower. This pretty much never happens, but in her situation she no longer needed ICU care and was simply waiting for a bed to open up on a regular floor. So, the doctor wrote an order stating that she could take a real shower. She stepped out of the bathroom beaming like she had won a million dollars. I hooked her back up to the monitors. 

"Phew" she exclaimed. "I don't know how you feel about water, but for me, it's life changing." 

I smiled. I couldn't agree more.