Mr. Speaker, as a Member of Congress who is a registered nurse and cares deeply about fostering dialogue between Arabs and Israelis, I wanted to share an inspiring story that appeared in the July 2006 issue of the American Journal of…
Mr. Speaker, as a Member of Congress who is a registered nurse and cares deeply about fostering dialogue between Arabs and Israelis, I wanted to share an inspiring story that appeared in the July 2006 issue of the American Journal of Nursing. Khalil Khoury, MScPharm, BSN, RN is head nurse of an internal medicine unit at Hadassah University Medical Center in Jerusalem where Prime Minister ArieI Sharon was treated in December 2005. At a time of such hopelessness and extraordinary tensions between Palestinians and Israelis, Khalil's story provided me with a little bit of hope and optimism that all is not lost in the Middle East. I urge my colleagues to take note of this story and hope it instills that same bit of hope in you.
[From the American Journal of Nursing, July 2006]
The Hospital as Sanctuary: An Arab Nurse Who Cared for Israel's
Stricken Prime Minister
(By Khalil Khoury)
I am head nurse on a unit known as Internal Medicine A at
Hadassah University Medical Center in Jerusalem. This is
where former prime minister Ariel Sharon was admitted for
several days after a minor stroke on December 18, 2005. (He
subsequently suffered a major cerebral accident on January 5,
2006, from which he has not recovered.) During his first
hospitalization, my staff of Arab and Jewish nurses cared for
him in an atmosphere of mutual respect--a sharp contrast to
life outside of the hospital walls.
Internal Medicine A is a microcosm of Israel. Of 40 nurses
under my supervision--all Israelis--one-third of us are
Christian or Muslim Arabs and the rest are Jews. Yet we work
together as a harmonious unit, an approach that is the basis
for the humane way we treat our patients. I think of my
workplace as an island of sanity within the insanity that
surrounds us. As an Israeli citizen, I have the same rights
as Jewish Israelis, but when security guards at a shopping
center or coffee shop see me or hear me speaking Arabic to a
companion, they demand to see my identification and search my
bag more thoroughly than those of others. My professional
accomplishments, my integration into Israeli society, my
triumphs over the odds against Arabs in my country--none of
this matters.
I was born in Haifa in 1971, and my parents--a construction
worker and a housewife--raised me to respect humankind, to
accept others and to help them. This led me to nursing, but
my career choice was also a practical decision. Because they
are perceived as security risks, Israeli Arabs can get jobs
in nursing more easily than they can in other fields, such as
high tech or the military. I enrolled at the Hadassah-Hebrew
University School of Nursing in Jerusalem in 1992; when I
graduated in 1996, I immediately went to work as an RN on
Internal Medicine A. I was named head nurse in 2001.
When the prime minister was assigned to our department,
there was considerable media excitement. ``The team that
treats prime minister Sharon includes Arabs,'' commentators
proclaimed. Given the political situation in Israel, the
presence of Arabs on the treatment team was considered
exceptional. Yet inside the hospital, we performed our duties
exactly as we would for any patient. The only substantive
difference was the necessity of accommodating the prime
minister's security staff in an adjoining patient room with a
connecting door and the political staff in one of our two
doctors' lounges. We cared for the prime minister and
prepared and administered his medications, including
injections, all without interference from the bodyguards who
were at the bedside around the clock.
I learned about my own prejudices from the experience of
being one of Sharon's nurses. Before meeting him during his
first hospitalization in 2005, I would have described him as
tough, formal, distant, and not very nice, based on his
public image. But he turned out to be pleasant and polite in
conversation; without his bodyguards and political retinue,
he would have been considered simply a nice old man.
I don't see Sharon as my enemy, although Israel does not
always see Arabs as friends. Fighting stereotypes is what I
do almost every day, whether it is prejudice aimed at me as a
man in a traditionally woman's profession or as an Arab
living and working in Israel. I am helped in this by the
principles of nursing, which emphasize patience and tolerance
toward others, without regard to race, religion, sex, or
nationality. This is how I was raised, and working at
Hadassah has strengthened my commitment to these values.