Communal toothbrushes and clothing, crowded wards, toilet stalls with walls low enough that patients could be observed at all times, people lined up in the corridor to await their bath in a room with four tubs — and electroconvulsive therapy, with the frightening seizures that followed: this was a provincial psychiatric hospital in 1962, where I did my three-month rotation as a second-year nursing student. Witnessing the demeaning effects of this care, I decided I was not going to be a psychiatric nurse. Then, in 1964, while working the evening shift on a surgical unit of a large Toronto hospital, I had an encounter that changed my mind. A psychiatric patient was anxious about her surgery, which was booked for the next day. A note in her file stated that if she became upset, she could be given a psychiatric medication. Instead, I sat down with her, listened to her fears and provided information and support. She settled, without any medication. It was then that I understood the value of using “the self” in nursing. Thinking back on 45 exciting, frustrating and gratifying years working in mental health, I’m still glad I met her when I did.

It was mid-afternoon on postoperative Day 13, and “quiet hour” in the PICU. Things were unchanged, still critically unstable…only one system involved. Parents are not usually permitted in the PICU at this time of day, but I was sitting by my daughter’s bed. No one had come to remove me. Maybe they felt bad for us; we had already spent many hours away from her that day during rounds and while a chest tube was being inserted.

The time to bring a global perspective to Canadian nursing is long overdue. Nurses must be willing to push boundaries and challenge roles and values in the delivery of health care in this country. At the same time, the social, political and cultural challenges of an increasingly globalized world demand a more global outlook. That’s why Sheridan College offers practical nursing (PN) students who are in their final semester of a two-year program the opportunity to take part in an international practicum experience.

As a research assistant for the Family Caregiver Coping Project, I interviewed a number of caregivers to understand how well they were coping with end-of-life cancer care. One morning, a man who was dying of prostate cancer summoned me to his bedside. He knew that I was there to interview his wife, but he had a message for me: thanks to her, he had been able to stay at home. His gratitude did not diminish an essential truth — without a family caregiver, it is almost impossible for anyone to die well at home. However, the strain of the demands on caregivers can have detrimental effects on their own physical and emotional well-being unless they receive the ongoing support they need.

I was about to change the dressings for a patient with multiple leg ulcers. She told me the process was not an easy one for her and asked me to be as slow and gentle as I could. As I carefully peeled off the first dressing, I noticed it was much stickier than others I had worked on. My puzzled look was probably not the first she’d seen on the face of a health-care provider. Without my having to say a word, she answered the question: “It’s honey.”