Abstract
I enjoyed reading this paper which introduced me to a previously undiscovered poetic form, emphasised the vital importance of learning from difference and realigned my consideration of sensitive topics arising within my workplace.
A particular strength within the paper lies in its choice of method. The duoethnographic mode lends itself to both the reflective and collaborative nature of nursing practice, and the transformative tool which the authors have chosen to aid in their exploration: poetry.
Whilst duoethnographic study is a relatively new method, it has its roots in storytelling, an ancient, universal feature practised across all cultures. To illustrate the fundamental human nature of telling stories, I refer to Professor of Literature at The University of Auckland, Brian Boyd, who suggests that art in itself is ‘biologically part of our species’ (Boyd, 2009: 1). He goes on to state that stories arise from our interest in and capacity to understand one another. This rings true for myself as a nurse and to the authors within the paper who similarly recognise that listening ‘can be healing in itself’ (Harris, 2012: 8).
Listening to patients’ stories is a key component of nursing care, allowing us to understand the needs, fears and hopes of a patient. This history-taking is integral to providing holistic care in order that ‘priorities can be identified and the most appropriate interventions commenced to optimize patient outcomes’ (Fawcett and Rhynas, 2012: 41–46). Thus this paper’s recognition of listening rather than fixing, made clear by the unfolding themes in the process of writing Two to Tanka, can be seen as instrumental in promoting safe and effective patient care tailored to the individual.
Furthermore, Boyd’s point regarding the biological nature of storytelling takes on an anthropological significance when applied to nursing care, eliciting both sempiternal meaning and reason for practising storytelling – it resides within our evolution and is fundamental in understanding one another.
Using disparate stories and a coming together of different histories as prescribed by the authors’ chosen method creates a plurivalent insight into the often shrouded semiosphere of the healthcare landscape, saturated by medical terminology, unknowable machines and unfamiliar faces. Perhaps more importantly, the insight gleaned through juxtaposing the differences between the two authors goes on to illuminate the concealed fears of a patient lying in extremis in the half-light of a hospital room.
In particular I enjoyed the choice of the tanka as a poetic form. It appears to complement the duoethnographic method due to its focus on experience and subsequent pseudo-autobiographical reflection exhibited as a call and response between the authors. The American curriculum theorist William Pinar’s Method of Currere (1975) is an introspective, autobiographical technique that details the nature of exploring experience through reflection in order to arrive at learning, both shared and for personal growth. This method has proved highly successful in various academic endeavours, allowing participants to ‘understand more fully, with more complexity and subtlety, one’s submergence in the present’ (Petrina, 2010: 2).
In addition, this transformative affect is often applied to poetry. The poet Professor Fiona Sampson has worked extensively in healthcare facilities and boldly states that poetry ‘can change lives’ (Sampson, 2008: 7–8). I perceive this to be true, and thus the paper’s subject – poetry as a duoethnographic method for exploring sensitive topics – is a worthy examination of creating dialogue around difficult subjects with potentially life-changing outcomes.