Mrs. Wilson's Teeth

Caring for the elderly patient can at times be very frustrating, even for the well-seasoned, experienced nurse. For the student nurse, this frustration is magnified by the necessity to also gain the approval of the omnipotent instructor. At times, the student may find herself in the midst of a dilemma, as was the case with my first geriatric assignment.

Early Monday morning, having received my assignment, I gathered my linens and all the enthusiasm I could muster, and entered room 203.

The first bed inside the door was empty. Not even a sheet covered the dingy, gray mattress. My patient was in bed two.

As I approached the bed I cheerfully greeted her. "Good morning Mrs. Wilson. My name is LuAnn and I'll be your nurse today."

Her only response was to slowly turn her head in my direction, and stare through clouded, vacant eyes. Mrs. Wilson had suffered a stroke and was not able to speak. I continued, hoping to comfort her and maybe even elicit a smile.

Bathing Mrs. Wilson was more difficult than I had anticipated. Contractures of her arms and legs had left her permanently frozen in a fetal position, making certain areas of her body virtually inaccessible.

My awkward persistence finally paid off and about forty-five minutes after I began, all that remained to be done was her mouth care.

Realizing that I would have to quicken my pace in order to complete the A.M. care for all three of my patients, I hurried to the bathroom, removed the dentures from the blue plastic cup, brushed them and returned to my patients side.

Bending near the bed I announced, "Mrs. Wilson, I have your dentures ready."

I was hoping she would just open her mouth, and I could pop her teeth in and be done.

No such luck! Instead she clamped her jaws shut, and turned her head. I tried every approach imaginable, short of forcing her mouth open. I pleaded and begged. Nothing worked. I knew I would have to seek the advice of my instructor.

My instructor was adamant. "LuAnn, you have to get those teeth in her mouth."

Feeling frustrated, but not yet ready to succumb to failure, I returned to room 203 to try again.

Mrs. Wilson was facing the door and visibly shuddered upon seeing me and those teeth.

Another feeble attempt, and I knew it was all in vain. She whipped her head from side to side, and whimpered pathetically. I refused to cause her any more psychological discomfort.

Determined to win this battle in favor of my patient, I approached my instructor once again, pleading for compassion. Instead, she placed her hands upon her hips and practically shouted, "Don't come out of that room again until you have those teeth in her mouth!"

A sense of hopelessness overwhelmed me, and my eyes filled with tears as I meandered back to my patients room, desperate for a solution to my dilemna.

Suddenly, an interesting thought occurred to me. "Why not seek the advice of the nurse that usually cares for Mrs. Wilson?" I immediately located this person, and solicited her help.

"I don't believe Mrs. Wilson has dentures", she responded.

"Yes she does" I explained, "I found them in her bathroom."

The nurse accompanied me to Mrs. Wilson's room and examined the dentures closely. "These are not Mrs. Wilson's teeth" she explained, "They belong to Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Wilson's room mate. She died yesterday."

Nauseated and disgusted, I confronted my instructor for the last time, then returned to room 203 and begged Mrs. Wilson's forgiveness.