Whatever it is, the thing that gets our chief attention is the most important to us. It may be lack of appetite, or pain in the side, indigestion, general disability, discomfort, the mistreatment we once received, the mistake we once made, or the sin we committed—whatever it is that holds our attention, it is the most absorbing and interesting thing in the universe, though it may be an utterly morbid interest, an unhappy attention. But it blots out for the time the rest of the world. A big hint for the nurse exists therein. Let her try in every lawful way to divert her patient’s attention from the disease-breeding stimuli toward the happy and wholesome ones.
For the nurse herself in the care of patients let us draw some conclusions from these laws of the mind’s working:
- Have a goal in view for the patient’s health of both body and mind.
- Work toward instilling in your patient a health ambition—a pride in health.
- Remember that overcrowding the mind defeats your purpose of making one clear impression.
- Win interest by any legitimate means to the next step toward the goal, and only the next.
- Work for attention to hopeful, courageous, and happy things.
Let us as nurses remember always that it is for the patient’s sake and not for our own that certain results must be obtained. Our work is usually in helping the doctor to get the best possibilities out of the material at hand, and we cannot hope to change the fabric. But we can help to repair it; we can sometimes influence the color and suggest some details of the pattern, or assist in the “making over” process; and when the fabric is substantial and beautiful we may assist in preventing its marring. So we may help to evolve a body-health and mind-health attitude from what seemed the wreckage of a disease-accepting mind; or we may have the great privilege of warding off the disease-accepting attitude. But always, in all our care of patients, let us not neglect or fail to use wisely this central fact of psychology; that anything that gains attention, even for a moment, leaves its impress on the mind; that the direction of attention determines our general reaction to life.
CHAPTER XI
GETTING THE PATIENT’S POINT OF VIEW
What Determines the Point of View
The point of view of any individual depends upon temperament, present conditions—mental and physical—and the aim of the life. That is, it depends upon his inherited tendencies plus a unique personal something, plus all the facts of his environment and experience, plus what he lives for.
Richard and Jim both live in Philadelphia, Richard on Walnut Street and Jim on Sansom Street. Richard’s father is of the best Quaker stock, with hundreds of years of gentle and aristocratic ancestry behind him. He followed his father and his grandfather into the profession of medicine, and is a well-known specialist, alert, keen, expert, and deservedly honored. He is at home in Greek and Latin, French, and the sciences. He selects at a glance only the conservative best in art and music and literature. His world is a gentleman’s world, a scholar’s world, and the world of a scientist and a humanitarian. And Richard, his son, is true to type.
Jim’s father is the ash man. His world is in the alleys and basements. His pastime, cheap movies, and the park on Sundays. When he is not working he is too “dead tired” for anything heavier than the Sunday Supplement or perhaps the socialist club-rooms, where he talks about the down-trodden working man and learns to hate the “idle” rich. He spends his money on food and cheap shows and showy clothes. He talks loudly, eats ravenously, works hard, is honest, and wants something better for his children than he and the “old woman” have had. His music is the street-organ, the movie piano, and the band—some of it excellent too—but none of your dreamy stuff—good and lively. And his son, Jim, is true to type.