True Presence In Nursing

The art of humanbecoming is demonstrating true presence in nursing. It is with true presence that the nurse can sincerely nurture a relationship with the patient, a relationship that is built on a foundation of respect and acknowledgement that there is mystery behind every person’s story.
The Nature of the Individual There are four assumptions related to the nature of the individual that mold and shape man: the human is coexistent while co-constituting rhythmical patterns with the universe, the human is open, freely choosing meaning in a situation, as well as bearing responsibility for decisions made, the human is unitary, continuously co-constituting patterns of relating, and the human is transcending multi-dimensionally with the possibles.
I grew up around the ocean my whole life, and it remains one of my favorite things that God put in our creation; so vast and beautiful, yet simultaneously so much mystery lies beneath. The water is always changing and moving, and some days the water is really rough and hard to get through, while other days the water is so peaceful you just want to stand in reverence. In my life, I believe some of the rockiest storms that I have ever been through have produced the most beautiful and peaceful results, and it’s the storms that are the experiences that really mold a person into who they truly are. I relate this art to who I want to be as a nurse because I want to practice nursing with the acknowledgement that all people, patients, humans are like the ocean, full of mystery. They walk into your life and you don’t know their story, you don’t know what they have been through, and you don’t know how rocky their storm might be when you cross paths. It’s up to you, as their nurse, to put aside assumptions and bias’s being truly present with them for the chance to maybe hear their story, and the possibilities thereafter have the impact to change lives. A pastor, Levi Lusko, wrote in his book after the sudden and tragic death of his five year old daughter, “As I walked in, the vicious waves of sadness that had been slamming me onto the rocks and stealing my breath ever since I had left the hotel that morning subsided enough for me to compose myself. Outside the sky remained stormy, but inside me the down-pour had briefly suspended. I walked in and ordered, then looked around and wondered if anyone knew how much I was hurting. Scanning the room, I saw many people but felt very, very alone. How many times had I sat next to