Here Comes the Cavalry: The Impact of the Nurse's Uniform in the Home
10 March 2025 | Sheila Brill
Many families are visited regularly by community nurses to support their children’s ongoing complex health needs. The nurses arrive in uniform, but how many times have they thought about the effect of their appearance on their patients and families?
Over many years, Sheila Brill, author of Can I speak to Josephine please? welcomed community nurses and other healthcare professionals into her home to attend to her daughter’s healthcare needs. In this blog, she delves into the impact of the nurse’s uniform in that setting.
You ring the doorbell at your next appointment, do you find yourself thinking, what’s going on behind that door? What am I going to find? Will I even be welcome?
As the door opens, you might be faced with exhaustion, downright weariness and possibly even anger. You know you’re probably something like the tenth professional who’s come to this house full of good intentions.
The woman who opens the door is clearly distracted and more than a little distraught. ‘Oh yes, I was expecting you, sorry. I’ve been up all night with him. He’s been having back-to-back fits…’
She bursts into tears.
*****
In the early days (1993), as a mother of a profoundly disabled baby, I had my doormat trodden by a succession of professionals. Women in uniform (it was always women) who generally arrived with a large heavy bag slung over a sloping shoulder. The visit always started with a smile, the placing of a set of car keys on the hall table (don’t let me forget where I’ve put them!) and a strongly held gaze at me and my baby.
Sometimes the sight of a nurse’s uniform had a negative impact. I felt judged, falling short as a dedicated mother who should have put her baby first and always, yes always, did the homework she’d been set at the end of the previous visit. Of course, I regularly monitored the effects of my baby’s medication. Yes, I was being extremely careful with my hygiene with the NG tube. Of course I was.
No professional ever actually interrogated me in that way. And yet I was on a self-imposed guilt trip with my daughter’s lack of progress being the evidence of my shortcomings as a mother. At least that’s how I saw it.
Other times, the sight of the uniform was like a big warm hug, providing reassurance and comfort, something I badly needed. I was a woman suffering from PTSD, watching the whites of everyone’s eyes as they came through my doorway. They might be wearing the uniform of an experienced professional, but my need for reassurance was often at odds with overwhelming suspicion. Were they being truly honest with me if they said my daughter’s health would improve? Could I trust them? Did I respect them?
*****
A nurse’s uniform speaks volumes about the person who wears it, the role that sits behind it and the compassion that inhabits it. To me, without the overlay of PTSD, the uniform says, I’m here to make a difference; I understand what you’re experiencing; let me see if I can help.
Fast forward to 2024. I was a service user on a panel validating a specialist nursing qualification. A community nurse in uniform appeared on the online screen. It was the end of her shift and she spoke about her role. There was something deeply moving about her demeanour, her candour and her assuredness. It was as though the cavalry had arrived.
No one should underestimate the power and impact of a nurse’s uniform.
You can read more about Sheila’s story in this article by The Herald.
Biography
Since leaving the teaching profession in 1992, Sheila has worked as a Managing Editor on educational materials and as an online tutor, training foster carers. She has also written for and edited a magazine for people living with/working with children and young people with complex needs.
Following completion of her memoir Can I speak to Josephine please?, Sheila has delivered seminars on complex needs to student nurses and assisted in interviewing candidates for the undergraduate paediatric nursing and midwifery degrees at the University of the West of England (UWE).
She has also been a UWE panel member on the validation of the MSc Specialist Practice Degree course. Sheila has provided video material for a charity’s advanced CTG training as well as material for a legal firm specialising in medical negligence. She continues to work to improve childbirth experiences and communication in health and social care settings.
Originally from Glasgow, Sheila lived in London for seven years before moving to Bristol where she now lives with her husband and son. She is surprised and delighted by the response to her memoir.
Back to Blog