What do you see, nurse, what do you see, what are you thinking when you're looking at me? A crabbit old woman, not very wise, uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes. Who dribbles her food and makes no reply when you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try." Who seems not to notice the things that you do, and forever is losing a stocking or shoe. Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill. Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see? Then open your eyes, nurse; you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still, as I use at your bidding, as I eat at your will. I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother, brothers and sisters, who love one another.

A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet, dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet. A bride soon at twenty - my heart gives a leap, remembering the vows that I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now, I have young of my own who need me to guide and a secure happy home. A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast, bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty my young sons have grown and are gone, but my man's beside me to see I don't mourn. At fifty once more babies play round my knee, again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead; I look at the future, I shudder with dread... For my young are all rearing young of their own, and I think of the years and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman and nature is cruel; 'tis jest to make old age look like a fool. The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour depart, there is now a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells, and now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the joys, I remember the pain, and I'm loving and living life over again.

I think of the years; all too few, gone too fast, and accept the stark fact that nothing can last. So open your eyes, nurse, open and see, not a crabbit old woman; look closer - see ME.

(McCormack, 1966) Phyllis McCormack, then working as a nurse in Sunnyside Hospital, Montrose.

Jane: I think I've got a real interest in people and I'm interested in understanding what's going on for somebody. I'm interested in being able to identify what the things are that may have led somebody into the position that they're currently in and I'm very interested in being able to re-stabilise people. I've got an interest in the treatments that we offer – both psychological and medical - to try and improve a person's mental health. On a Monday morning, when I'm doing my two assessments, I'm always interested in meeting the people that I'm going to see and I enjoy the work.

Bharat: I'm not in my job purely for money and, to be honest, if I was I'd probably join the private sector. In terms of the public sector: I've joined it because I want to make a difference. I think it's a bit of a cliché to say "I want to make a difference"; what does that really mean? If I can go into a ward, having successfully or efficiently allocated the correct amounts of money or given the correct amounts of money to the correct people, I get a sense of happiness. The nurses are happy and they're going to provide a good sense of care for their patients. It's a chain and I'm impacting the chain from the beginning. That's then rolling on to the practitioners and clinicians and I get the sense that it's rolling on to the patients.

Rupinder: For me the most rewarding thing is, if someone wants to die at home, the role that we play as district nurses in allowing that to happen. I think supporting the family and the patient in that journey is the most rewarding thing. It's a privilege to be with that person towards the end of their life and to be there to support the family because that's the one memory that loved one or carer is going to have of whoever it is - mother, father, spouse. To me the most rewarding and exciting thing is that we can allow that to happen in a very dignified way.