humans and monsters

I've been thinking a lot lately about compassion, and justice, and how it's really scary that evil doesn't look like you think it would.

last week i took care of a murderer.  now a lot of my patients aren't exactly saints.  and i've definitely taken care of people whose poor choices meant that they killed someone.  but there's a big difference between driving drunk and hitting someone with your car and stabbing four people, two to death.

i guess that i don't know what to think.  once again, nursing school never prepared me for this.  i'm a strong believer in being kind to people despite what they've done.  in treating people the way that they treat you, even if they are a drug dealer or a pedophile or a manslaughterer.  never before have i felt guilty for being nice to someone.  but last week, i did.

the first time i met my patient, he looked like any other post-op patient.  he was young.  vulnerable.  but he was also covered in the blood of the people he'd killed.  and somehow, it was my job to wash that blood, the blood of his murdered baby, off of his hands.

it was surreal.  disturbing.  and it made me feel like somehow i shouldn't be taking care of him.  like he should have to sit there and think about what he'd done, and i shouldn't be giving him blankets or offering him food or having him rate his pain.  but that is not a thing.  people don't get cared for based on whether or not they deserve help.  i believe that everyone deserves to be treated well, and that what they've done has nothing to do with the care that i provide.  don't i?  i thought that i did.

so i treated this patient like any other.  then i went home and couldn't sleep.  i can ALWAYS sleep.  i just can't help thinking that we got it wrong.  society believes that evil has a face, some sort of tell.  that  you can see it in someone's eyes.  and while i'm pretty savvy, i bought into it.  to me, killers fell into a few categories:  people who do stupid things without thought of consequences, mentally ill people who don't know what they're doing, cold calculated serial killers who actually like that kind of thing.  reckless, crazy, or defective.  but this patient was none of those things.  he was basically a kid.  he looked scared.  he cried.  i actually somehow felt bad for him.  and it's still upsetting to me, because that's not what evil is supposed to look like.  and try as i might to figure out how someone can be so human and still do something so horrific, i can't.

the day after, i got to work and everyone was in a panic.  the surviving victims had ended up on the floor as well, and their families were out for blood.  the news had informed them that my patient was at the hospital, and they wasted no time in scouring the doors looking for his name and knocking on windows trying to draw him out.  my coworkers who were caring for those patients heard the plan loud and clear: they were going to find him and kill him.

sadly this is not the first time that i've felt like i could be in danger caring for someone.  but to cut down on the risk of more violence, the decision was made to transfer the patient off the floor.  unfortunately, we were literally backed into a corner, and the only way out was past the victims and their families.  i ended up pushing my patient through a usually locked back door, wearing a surgical cap and mask, wrapped completely in blankets and accompanied by a 5 person police and hospital security detail.  and once again, i somehow felt that i was doing something wrong.  i was helping a murder escape vigilante justice!!  but clearly, diffusing the situation and getting the patient off the floor was the right decision for everyone.  so i no longer had to care for the patient, and i tried unsuccessfully to put him out of my mind.

the week after, he was formally charged and his face was all over the news and social media.  as usual, everyone felt the need to throw their two cents in and post things like "fry him" and detailed descriptions of how they wanted him to get raped to death in prison.  and somehow, i felt like i should DEFEND him.  enter more guilty feelings.  what this man did was horrible.  unforgivable.  he should receive whatever punishment he gets, and it still won't be enough to even things out.  people are justified in their outrage, and i understand why they would say those things when they heard what he did.

but they didn't have to look into his face.  they didn't see him cry.  they have the luxury of looking at that man as pure evil, as less than human.  but i know the haunting truth.  that man is scarily "normal".  and i can't stop thinking about how that could be possible.  about what it takes to turn an average person into a monster.