Prejudices dog male nurses

Sometimes I wonder why I chose nursing, especially at 6.45am as I arrive for handover to be greeted once again by, "Oh good, here's Fred! We had a really heavy patient admitted overnight."

Why is there always the expectation that because I'm the only nurse who is male on the ward, I should get all the heavy lifting? After many years of this, I'm beginning to wonder how much longer my back will last.

Of course, I cannot be certain that I will get near the patient. Whenever I enter Room 17, Mrs S's husband is sitting next to her bed. His face darkens when he sees me and once again he says: "This wouldn't happen in my home country. A man shouldn't look after a woman."

Again I explain that I am the most experienced nurse on duty and that the complexity of his wife's post-operative care requires my expertise.

I reiterate that I will ensure that a female care assistant will provide the intimate physical care, albeit with far less skill and limited ability to conduct a thorough assessment of the patient's physical and emotional needs.

Sometimes it appears that my gender is a more significant consideration than the knowledge and skills I have developed through education and experience. It is frustrating that, as a man, you are subject to challenge as to your suitability to provide nursing care. Yet male medical staff and their entourage are accepted.

The man who is a physician is never asked, "Oh, so you are a male doctor?" I'm certain they also don't get asked, "So why don't you want to be a nurse?"

Having performed my assessment of Mrs S and planned her care for the shift, I introduce myself to the next of the six surgical patients I will be caring for this morning.

Mr C is an elderly man in his second day of recovery from abdominal surgery. As with all my patients, I introduce myself, "Good morning, I'm Fred and I will be the nurse caring for you this morning".

"Hmm, it wouldn't have happened in my day," he grunts. "Oh well, since that law reform thing there's more of you around, I suppose."

Maintaining my smile, I feel my heart sink. Another one who thinks that a man who is a nurse has to be gay. It is only 7.30am and I have one husband who thinks I'm possibly going to molest his wife and a patient who thinks I'm a homosexual.

I could do what so many of my male colleagues do and talk about a girlfriend, or the wife and kids, or "What about those All Blacks, eh?"

However, it's my sixth morning duty and I'm feeling tired. Not wanting to have to deal with possible homophobia, I ask him if he would prefer another nurse.

He decides he will "give me a go". I try to move beyond the feelings associated with being rebuffed and my professional integrity being impugned as all I want to do is demonstrate my ability to provide professional nursing care.

Ignoring my flagging spirits, I continue the day, which as usual contains unexpected challenges from patients and colleagues. But by the end of the day it is likely I will experience frustration from there never being enough time to provide more than minimally competent care.

Today's challenge is to maintain my professional demeanour when Dr V starts haranguing me in front of several colleagues about why I have not discharged a patient.

He doesn't want to hear my assessment of her lack of ability to safely inject the newly prescribed insulin she needs every day to control diabetes. She has a fear of needles and requires at least another day of me working with her before being ready for discharge.

She also lives in an isolated rural community and none of her family is available today to take her home.

So why did I choose nursing? The answer comes when I receive a letter during the afternoon handover.

The daughter of a patient has expressed gratitude for the care I gave to her mother. She was thankful for my attention to detail and the courtesy with which I treated her mother.

She wished her mother could have received such care from all the nurses. I do, too. But then what would I know about caring? I'm only a man.

* The writer is a public health nurse who wishes to remain anonymous, for obvious reasons.