In both of these instances reason has followed the leadings of feeling. It is unpleasant to hurt the patient, and she is disagreeable, too, when you insist on carrying out the orders. It is easier to agree with her ideas and sympathize with her troubles, much easier than to find some other avenue for her thinking, or to search for feeling substitutes. It is pleasanter right now to allow her mind to slip unmolested into sick reactions than to lead her, unwilling as she is, into the ways of health. Reason follows feeling's logic, which suggests that it is much better for the patient to talk of her ills than to keep them pent up inside; and judgment is sadly obscured. The emotionally balanced nurse hears the story once, that she may have the material for helping the need. Feeling, perhaps deep and genuine sympathy with a real trouble, is aroused, and rightly. But this brings a keen desire to help the situation. Reason insists that talking of sufferings, real or fancied, only makes them more insistently felt; that there must be some better way to meet them. It suggests various methods to divert the patient's attention, to change the train of thought until she is able herself to direct it into healthful channels; judgment weighs the propositions and decides upon the one which will lead toward establishing a health attitude. The nurse is continually meeting the necessity of acting contrary to fear and discouragement and weariness of spirit. How can she secure emotional equilibrium for herself? Keep in mind the fact that most sick people are very suggestible; that you have a definite responsibility to make your suggestions to your patient wholesome; and that your mood is a constant suggestion to him. Remember that he needs your best. Then, if your own trouble seems too great to bear, determine that, so long as you remain on duty, you will not let it show. Try an experiment. See if you can go through the day carrying your load of sorrow, or disappointment or chagrin, with so serene a face that the sick for whom you are caring will not suspect that you have a burden at all. That is a triumph worth the striving. Then--if you can let it make you a little more comprehending of others' pain, a little more gentle with the sickest ones, a bit more patient with the trying ones, more kindly firm with the unco-operative, realizing that each one of them all has his burden too--you have not choked feeling, but you have fulfilled reason's counsel: that sick people are not the ones to help you in your stress; that a good nurse should rise above personal trouble to the duty at hand. Your judgment has compared your reasons, and decided that you should act before your patients as you would if all were well. And _will_ holds you to emotional equilibrium. Such a thing can be done in a very large measure; and no better opportunity for emotional control will ever be offered than the necessity of being calm and serene before your patients, no matter how you feel.