“Are you trustworthy yet?” my patient of several weeks asked me.

“No. I’m not trustworthy until tommorrow,” I replied nonchalantly, “Does that worry you?”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “As long as you give me my pain meds on time I don’t really care.”

“Fair enough,” I nodded, “I guess you figure I haven’t killed you yet.”

He laughed until his face turned red. My preceptor just gaped at me in shock.

This particular patient was in and out of my unit at the hospital my first six months as a nurse. We became fast friends. His daughter was just a little older than me so maybe that’s why he seemed to enjoy watching me learn and grow in our time together. Patients give the best advice on how to be a good nurse, you know. Lord knows, that man was so incedibly patient with me.

I remember one night he was on my unit, but I wasn’t his nurse. I really hadn’t seen him for awhile. His IV went off in the middle of the night and I slipped in to fix it. He was laying quietly with his eyes closed trying to ignore the IV screaming. I looked at him in the bed and could see he was feeling pretty miserable. I made a mental note to ask his nurse about pain or nausea medication thinking he’d probably wake up needing it soon.

As I turned to sneak back out, he squinted up at the person by his bed. Surprised that it was me, his eyes lit up and he half sat up.

”Hey Erin! How are you?”

To this day I can’t figure out why… Maybe it’s because he was so genuinely happy to see me, maybe it was because of the friendship we had built over time, maybe it was because it was just late and quiet… but for whatever reason…

I told him the truth.

I was tired and still feeling a little overwhelmed being a new nurse with patients of my own. I was finally “trustworthy” and didn’t need a preceptor following me, but I was scared I’d mess it up. I just wanted to do a good job so badly.  I didn’t want to let my patients down.

This stream of conciousness flew out of my mouth before I realized what happened. I suddenly felt weak and vulnerable and selfish for dumping on my patient with his own very real pain and struggle.

He just gave me a sweet smile, laid his head back on his pillow, and murmured, “You’ll be fine.”

There was something about the way he said it… Frank confidence. Absolute trust. Great love. No need to worry, I would be an excellent nurse. He was so convinced, he convinced me too.

Now here I am in Africa… Everything is different and there’s still so much that I have to learn. Tomorrow I’m “trustworthy”. It will be my first day without a preceptor. But I’m scared I’ll mess it up. I just want to do a good job so badly. I don’t want to let my patients down.

But then I remember my patient’s sweet smile and confidence.

And I know…

I’ll be fine.