Blood Pressure Jacqueline Pennington

Grasping the air bulb in my hand, I squeeze till the arm cuff is snug around the nurse. Methodically, I turn the valve on the bulb, letting out a faint stream of air, still pressing my stethoscope firmly upon the brachial artery, listening for the soft beats of her rushing blood. “123 over 60,” I report back.

Learning to use a blood pressure pump as a Direct Care Assistant is one of the hardest things I’ve done to date. The nearly silent ticking was the only guide available to discovering those two perfect numbers, systolic over diastolic. Three months later, instead of sitting comfortably in a chair, while facing straight ahead at the arm in front of me, I am kneeling on the ground, head cocked, trying to listen for the faint beat from an ankle of a wheelchair bound patient.

Prior to this, an opportunity to work in healthcare arose and I gleefully applied for the position. Placed in a care home for residents with severe disabilities, I provided behavioral and medical care ranging from helping out with dinner to administering seizure medication. Every shift enabled me to learn another aspect of the disabled community, the emotions they all went through and how strikingly similar they were to mine.

Reflecting on my own...