So I decided to come visit my brother for the weekend. Funny thing is, he's not here. Won't be here until late tomorrow evening. So why did I come so early knowing that?
He has a cat.
Mouser. His name used to me Sebastian, which is very formal and serious, but if you have seen pictures of this cat, you will see how undignified he actually is. When I asked my brother why he named him Mouser, he shrugged and replied nonchalantly, "Because when he meow's it's more like "mou." "
Sounds like mowh. not so much like mouse. So he is one of my 4 favorite "mou-mous."
It's good to be me cause I get the kittie all to myself, even if it is just for one night. I miss having a kittie!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Colors
It has been pointed out that the cool color of crocs abroad is ORANGE. I know the shade. It's not a subtle, la la la orange. It's a screaming "lookatme!" statement. Let's keep it abroad!
Not to mention that orange clashes with light blue, which is the only color of scrubs this hospital allows.
Most the nurses are still wearing the maroon/burgundy Danskos, which I personally never wore because they add a good 3 inches to your stature.
It's funny how with blogging, you think you are going to write about one thing, but it comes out completely different.
I was going to post about how frusterating it can be trying to convince a 23 year old that he really could die from his GVH (graft vs. host...look it up if you want to be grossed out and/or just thankful you don't have it.)
It is hard to explain to him that he could likely die in a puddle of his own feces. That, in case he hasn't noticed, he had pooped 4,500 ml of liquid poop in the past 24 hours. That's about 2 gallons.
And it is harder still to know that his wife is due to give birth in July, and today the doctors told him he has a 30% survival rate....if he cooperates, which so far he does not want to do.
When we say survival, we don't mean "back to normal." We mean, you will be able to breathe on your own.
Survival does not mean you can pee, poop, eat, turn over in bed, lift your arm up, sit up, cough, walk, talk, or move at all... on your own.
I don't think people understand that.
It certainly does come down to "quality of life." But there is no definition of that, really.
If someone told you that by drinking juice you could die, would you believe them?
If you knew you might live by not eating anything, or drinking anything, would you do it? Especially if you knew you were getting all the nutrition you needed through your IV?
Everyone is different. Some people would say "I don't care. If I am going to die, why not tackle that steak?"
Others would say, "I will do my best, even if it means I don't even swallow my own spit!"
It is facinating, yet heart wrenching, to see how people make decisions in their life. Especially critical ones, like how to fight. Or how to live.
It seems so simple for me to logically look at him and think, "If it was me, I would be doing every single thing the nurses and doctors are telling me to do. I want to live. If they tell me to touch my nose every 2 hours, then I'm watching the clock and setting alarms!"
But I am not in his shoes. I don't make decisions for people. And thank God for that! Sometimes it is such a huge relief that I don't have to make this decision for them. That no matter what they choose to do, God's will be done.
I guess that's what makes it easy to separate from the struggles at the end of the day: they aren't my struggles.
I think I know how I would react, what I would decide. Hopefully it will never be my decision to make. But if that time comes, it will be my decision.
From orange crocs to this. Funny how blogging takes you where it will!
It's good to be me and be able to blog about it!
Not to mention that orange clashes with light blue, which is the only color of scrubs this hospital allows.
Most the nurses are still wearing the maroon/burgundy Danskos, which I personally never wore because they add a good 3 inches to your stature.
It's funny how with blogging, you think you are going to write about one thing, but it comes out completely different.
I was going to post about how frusterating it can be trying to convince a 23 year old that he really could die from his GVH (graft vs. host...look it up if you want to be grossed out and/or just thankful you don't have it.)
It is hard to explain to him that he could likely die in a puddle of his own feces. That, in case he hasn't noticed, he had pooped 4,500 ml of liquid poop in the past 24 hours. That's about 2 gallons.
And it is harder still to know that his wife is due to give birth in July, and today the doctors told him he has a 30% survival rate....if he cooperates, which so far he does not want to do.
When we say survival, we don't mean "back to normal." We mean, you will be able to breathe on your own.
Survival does not mean you can pee, poop, eat, turn over in bed, lift your arm up, sit up, cough, walk, talk, or move at all... on your own.
I don't think people understand that.
It certainly does come down to "quality of life." But there is no definition of that, really.
If someone told you that by drinking juice you could die, would you believe them?
If you knew you might live by not eating anything, or drinking anything, would you do it? Especially if you knew you were getting all the nutrition you needed through your IV?
Everyone is different. Some people would say "I don't care. If I am going to die, why not tackle that steak?"
Others would say, "I will do my best, even if it means I don't even swallow my own spit!"
It is facinating, yet heart wrenching, to see how people make decisions in their life. Especially critical ones, like how to fight. Or how to live.
It seems so simple for me to logically look at him and think, "If it was me, I would be doing every single thing the nurses and doctors are telling me to do. I want to live. If they tell me to touch my nose every 2 hours, then I'm watching the clock and setting alarms!"
But I am not in his shoes. I don't make decisions for people. And thank God for that! Sometimes it is such a huge relief that I don't have to make this decision for them. That no matter what they choose to do, God's will be done.
I guess that's what makes it easy to separate from the struggles at the end of the day: they aren't my struggles.
I think I know how I would react, what I would decide. Hopefully it will never be my decision to make. But if that time comes, it will be my decision.
From orange crocs to this. Funny how blogging takes you where it will!
It's good to be me and be able to blog about it!
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
1 more
I am excited because I have 6 days off in a row. Now what to do with them?
Maybe a hike? Maybe a drive up through the mountains? Maybe a trip to visit with my brother?
The opportunities are endless. And, for a bonus, it is suposed to be nice weather!
Just 1 more shift, then it will be good to be me again!
Maybe a hike? Maybe a drive up through the mountains? Maybe a trip to visit with my brother?
The opportunities are endless. And, for a bonus, it is suposed to be nice weather!
Just 1 more shift, then it will be good to be me again!
Monday, May 21, 2007
The bright side
Night shift is certainly not getting easier, but on the bright side, it is not getting any harder! I'll take that!
I have been meeting some really great new people who I have really been enjoying working with and getting to know.
Every hospital has the "stereotypical" nurse. Without meaning to sound racist, sexist or anything else-ist, I simply must point out some of my observations.
In San Diego, it is a short, cute Philipino nurse who is in her 40's or 50's.
In Los Angeles, it is a short, tiny Philipino nurse in her 20's.
In Philadelphia, it is an average but beautiful Indian nurse.
In Texas (Dallas at least), it is a heavy, 40's to 50's slower white nurse.
In Sacramento it was a smaller Russian woman who is "older" although you could never guess her age.
In San Francisco, it was thin, brainy looking uptight nurses who were very PC.
In Hawaii, it was taller (and I use the term loosely, being nearly 6 foot) beautiful, funloving Hawaiians, who at all times had a flower tucked behind an ear. Really.
In Colorado, it is a taller, muscular burnette, who looks like they have never touched makeup in their life, but they are good looking without it.
Of course, these are very broad generalizations, but it is interesting to me. I was suprised to work with such a "white" group of girls.
I enjoy working with them all, and have learned so much from each place I have worked. I have gotten to try wonderful dishes brought in for an abundance of potlucks, and gotten to learn phrases, most of which I have forgotten, in other languages.
I have enjoyed traveling the states. Being a traveler has allowed me sneak-peaks at other cultures, not just of the city I am in, but far away countries too.
I have met Indians, Hawaiians, Samoans, Philipinos, Canadians (Yeah!) Ethiopians, Russians, Croatians, Chinese, Japanese, Australians, Brits, Germans, and who knows what else!
It is so interesting trying the different foods, hearing the different customs, even trying the different dances when there is time!
I never went into nursing thinking I would get a taste of so many parts of the world, but that has certainly been an added bonus!
I love hearing the stories, the beliefs, the traditions, and how holidays are celebrated. If nothing else, it makes my own beliefs stronger. It feels really good to help define your beliefs, and if I can help someone become stronger in thier own belief, so much the better!
On a completely different note, I am working on the north wing, which is the oncology ICU part of our 3 parts. A long time ago, when I was a baby nurse, I started out working in the ICU. There were times I loved it, and there were times I was so scared I didn't know what to do. Being back on this floor, even though I have very stable patients, who can walk and talk and everything that means they probably shouldn't be on this floor, I get so see and help with the patients who are here because they really should be. I remember things about the ICU that I loved.
I loved being able to give the patient the kind of bath they deserved, taking the time to wash between the toes, under the nails and the sort. I loved being able to comfort the family and explaining to them what I am doing and why, pointing out the colorful numbers on the screen and letting them in on which ones are what, and what we are looking for when we watch them.
I loved being able to ask a family member to help do something, even as simple as holding a hand so the patient does not pull out a tube while I turn them. Or asking them to help put the pillow back. It is so good to give them something, anything that can help ease that horrid feeling of helplessness.
I love that I got to know everything about my patient. That I got to be close to them and not constantly running out of the room. Everything was in the room. I got to stay with my patient.
Even if they couldn't talk, or maybe it was because they couldn't talk, it just squeezed my heart, and it made it so much easier to have complete compassion for them. It was like thier life was in my hands, and I really was nurturing them and helping them get better.
It is good to do what I do. I love what I do. That is probably one of life's greatest blessings.
(and for those of you who were wondering, my crocs are light blue today!)
I have been meeting some really great new people who I have really been enjoying working with and getting to know.
Every hospital has the "stereotypical" nurse. Without meaning to sound racist, sexist or anything else-ist, I simply must point out some of my observations.
In San Diego, it is a short, cute Philipino nurse who is in her 40's or 50's.
In Los Angeles, it is a short, tiny Philipino nurse in her 20's.
In Philadelphia, it is an average but beautiful Indian nurse.
In Texas (Dallas at least), it is a heavy, 40's to 50's slower white nurse.
In Sacramento it was a smaller Russian woman who is "older" although you could never guess her age.
In San Francisco, it was thin, brainy looking uptight nurses who were very PC.
In Hawaii, it was taller (and I use the term loosely, being nearly 6 foot) beautiful, funloving Hawaiians, who at all times had a flower tucked behind an ear. Really.
In Colorado, it is a taller, muscular burnette, who looks like they have never touched makeup in their life, but they are good looking without it.
Of course, these are very broad generalizations, but it is interesting to me. I was suprised to work with such a "white" group of girls.
I enjoy working with them all, and have learned so much from each place I have worked. I have gotten to try wonderful dishes brought in for an abundance of potlucks, and gotten to learn phrases, most of which I have forgotten, in other languages.
I have enjoyed traveling the states. Being a traveler has allowed me sneak-peaks at other cultures, not just of the city I am in, but far away countries too.
I have met Indians, Hawaiians, Samoans, Philipinos, Canadians (Yeah!) Ethiopians, Russians, Croatians, Chinese, Japanese, Australians, Brits, Germans, and who knows what else!
It is so interesting trying the different foods, hearing the different customs, even trying the different dances when there is time!
I never went into nursing thinking I would get a taste of so many parts of the world, but that has certainly been an added bonus!
I love hearing the stories, the beliefs, the traditions, and how holidays are celebrated. If nothing else, it makes my own beliefs stronger. It feels really good to help define your beliefs, and if I can help someone become stronger in thier own belief, so much the better!
On a completely different note, I am working on the north wing, which is the oncology ICU part of our 3 parts. A long time ago, when I was a baby nurse, I started out working in the ICU. There were times I loved it, and there were times I was so scared I didn't know what to do. Being back on this floor, even though I have very stable patients, who can walk and talk and everything that means they probably shouldn't be on this floor, I get so see and help with the patients who are here because they really should be. I remember things about the ICU that I loved.
I loved being able to give the patient the kind of bath they deserved, taking the time to wash between the toes, under the nails and the sort. I loved being able to comfort the family and explaining to them what I am doing and why, pointing out the colorful numbers on the screen and letting them in on which ones are what, and what we are looking for when we watch them.
I loved being able to ask a family member to help do something, even as simple as holding a hand so the patient does not pull out a tube while I turn them. Or asking them to help put the pillow back. It is so good to give them something, anything that can help ease that horrid feeling of helplessness.
I love that I got to know everything about my patient. That I got to be close to them and not constantly running out of the room. Everything was in the room. I got to stay with my patient.
Even if they couldn't talk, or maybe it was because they couldn't talk, it just squeezed my heart, and it made it so much easier to have complete compassion for them. It was like thier life was in my hands, and I really was nurturing them and helping them get better.
It is good to do what I do. I love what I do. That is probably one of life's greatest blessings.
(and for those of you who were wondering, my crocs are light blue today!)
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