Nobody likes to be in pain. Not for weeks, days, a minute, a second. Due to their age, however, most elderly people must deal with chronic pain on a constant basis. Indeed, working in the medical field exposes the amount of pain elderly people must endure on a daily basis. As one grows older, bones and body start to creep up, causing horrible aches that can defy description. Indeed, one particular patient of mine caused me to suffer chills and heartache myself, knowing the type of pain she went through. And yet, despite being fragile as glass, she taught me strength: to live life the best way we know how, and to do what makes us happy with no regrets.

In September of 2022, I was working as a nursing student, in a brand-new hospital in upstate New York. The hospital was cold and gray with no vivid color, as if stripped of life and dreams. One day, the charge nurse sent me on my way to unit 5. Home to all the patients with chronic illnesses, mostly elderly patients whose pain would last forever, unit 5 was a sad place. As I walked through the halls, I could hear patients moaning, their families crying, and people praying. Walking through the hallway and seeing every single patient, I felt my heart ache with sadness. I wished I could have taken away all the worry and health issues with the snap of my finger. Walking to the room of my assigned patient, I mentally prepared myself for a long and tough day.

That day, the only patient in my care was Betty. Meeting Betty for the first time, I was struck by a beautiful elderly woman, crowned with stylish silver gray hair, wearing a colorful robe that brought out eyes bluer than the ocean. She didn’t look like someone who had been in the hospital for weeks. In fact, as this was my first time in Unit 5, she seemed happy to see a brand-new face. Noting how calm and relaxed she was, I complimented her robe colors before touching the subject of her medical diagnosis.

Although as soon as I walked in the room, we both knew that today was going to be hard for her, but we kept quiet on that topic till the time came. She wanted to enjoy her morning before all the medical staff entered to probe her with tests and assessments. I asked Betty what kind of breakfast she preferred and how she liked her coffee. She responded, “Anything you want to give me, honey.” I let her enjoy her breakfast for half an hour, as I wrote down her vital signs and lab work. Hearing me describe what I would do for her and the number of doctors scheduled to speak to her, Betty replied, “I’ve been here for a while, honey. It’s okay. I’m ready. I know how things are going to go today.”

I responded, “Today will be a different day, Betty.” It most certainly was.

Walking through the hallway and seeing every single patient, I felt my heart ache with sadness. I wished I could have taken away all the worry and health issues with the snap of my finger.

I took my time evaluating her and asking her what she needed before I took my assessments in depth. Although she wore a smile as bright as the sun, I could tell that her illness and pain were unbearable. As the time came for me to conduct a head-to-toe assessment, I knew Betty was frightened of merely being touched. I gave her my hand and told her to squeeze it if anything was too overbearing. I then took my time, making my medical assessment as thorough as possible.

I had seen bruises and cuts before but nothing like hers. I remember vividly her telling me how scared she felt in her own home because of the number of falls she had suffered there, the source of her broken bones and bruises. Asking her how she got a large laceration on her leg, I discovered that she had fallen down the stairs and cut her leg from the edge. Any surface she touched, anything that bumped into her, continued an ongoing struggle: what bruise did I get this time?

“I couldn't even walk in my own house without assistance,” she told me. “It makes me sad to sit alone in a confined area. But that’s my life, and I'm so grateful everyday God has given me another chance to keep pushing and going.” Betty said this despite being all alone in this world; her husband had passed away a couple years before, while her children lived far away.

Throughout my time taking care of her, Betty was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a condition that causes pain and tenderness throughout the body, as well as fatigue and trouble sleeping. Nobody around her really understood what she was suffering, assuming her pain as typical for the elderly. Despite her pain, though, Betty kept me in spirits, even though I was the one that was supposed to be up in spirits for her. Doing my job wasn’t the easiest for either of us; I had tasks to take on that would make her body uncomfortable. Still, I did my best to finish for her as fast as a nursing student could. In the end, there was only so much I could do to alleviate her pain. And yet, just by the way she spoke, she made her bluish gray room light up with a million different colors.

“I’ll never forget who you are for the way you listen,” she told me once. “That’s all I’ve been asking for.”

Since that first day caring for Betty, I’ve decided to live my life like her, no matter what the circumstances are. She made me realize that even though life can be hard, one needs to cherish the life you have, accepting it peacefully. From her, I learned the importance of helping patients see the brighter side of life, while caring for them the best way I know how. Like Betty, people are like precious glass. And with glass, you need to be careful not to drop it and scratch the surface. Otherwise, it will break.