Go Chargers!

Sundays at work are usually so much more peaceful at work, usually to the point of being boring. And I love that about my job! Sometimes you need the break. It is also an added perk if the Chargers happen to be playing. Pardon the pun, but the air just seems charged with good will, and everyone seems to be on the same level of calm. It is really great to hear the unified tv's all with the game on, and if they score the whole floor erupts. Even if you are not actively watching the game, you still know when we are up.
It reminds me of when the world cup was going on, and everyone would wear their team's colors on that days match. For the last game, rounds were halted, meds had been given way before they would normally have been gotten around to. I personally went so far as to wear the Italy jersey my grandparents had brought me back from Italy on their last trip. Funny how most " 'Merikens" don't have a clue about international events. They are so into football, as of course I was just saying. Sports are fun though. My newest team to watch is the Seahawks. Seahawks and the Broncos.
I'm ridiculously tired, and thankfully most of my patients are too. Sleep is a comodity here, and valued greatly. Whenever I can oblige, I try to let them sleep. I wish that was a 2 way street!
I will be going home soon, and my bed is just waiting for me. I can still appreciated being able to come home and be in bed by 8 without interuptions from children or a husband or pets. It is good to be me. It will be better when I am sleeping! Then I will be ready for day 5 of 5 tomorrow.

Getting it

I live for moments like the one I just got to experience. My patient finally "got it!" She decided to take hold of the last remaining days and quit taking the ativan and wake up and live! She is thinking about Christmas, even New Years. She could finally say, "so this is it, I am going to die. Really die. There is no cure." It's gotta be hard to be able to say, and she did it and I am so proud of her for not letting this disease drag her down slowly.
I almost did a happy dance when she told me she did not want any more ativan. You could almost see a cloud lifted off her family, who were obviously having a hard time watching her barely able to keep her eyes open. You knew they wanted to have every minute with her awake and able to share the time together, not be alone in it. They know the alone time will come.
My patients surprise me sometimes, and I love it when they do. I feel like I changed someone's life, made it better. It's good to be me. I love my job!

Smile has been reapplied

Every once in a while my patients make me smile. Today started out like that, and I have to get this down on paper, pardon the expression. I plan to write more later, but this was just too cute. Usually, when we come into a patients room in the morning, we update the dry erase board with the current date, our name and other pertinant facts. This is how it usually looks:

Saturday, December 16th 2006
RN: Laura
CCP: Medina
Charge RN: Martha

Today, my dear patient added to the bottom:

Sick guy: Marc

Fishy looking

What a depressing day! Not that being in oncology is the most delightful, upbeat area to be working in, but most days, it is good. Patients are fighting their disease, we make their pain go away albeit temporarily, they get to go home until their next round of chemo. Things are on average good. Today is not so much the case.
One of our dear patients passed away yesterday. His family was one of the ones we were adopting. I am always a little leary of designating a family to shower with gifts because inevitably the patient does not make it to the holiday. On a good year, they get better and get to go home, but not this year.
I have a 37 year old whose sarcoma has spread to his eye and has grown so quickly that his eye is bulging out of his head, thankfully covered still in also swollen eyelid. Imagine those goldfish with the google eyes. He has a hard time talking, since they had to take a chunk of his tongue and palate out. My other patient does not get to go home either because those headaches, well, they are from a raging infection in his sinuses. No Mexico surf trip like he was planning. I guess San Diego is still better than being stuck in Idaho.
My heartbreaker for the day is the 32 year old who finally got the news that her fears are confirmed, and she will be living, hopefully for the next 4-6 weeks at best. For me, what makes it worse is that she just wants to sleep. She is trying to take enough ativan, benadryl, anything to let her sleep and "get away from it all" for as long as possible. How can you want to sleep the last few days of your life away? Ativan does not make the cancer go away. I wish she could just realize that this is her chance to do anything she had always wanted to do, rather than trying to hide and make it go away. I can't imagine having a death sentence hanging over my head, though, and we never know how we will react until we are in a particular situation ourselves. I like to think that I would be strong enough to say enough is enough with the chemo and just find as many ways as possible to live to the fullest any day I have left. This is why I am not going to wait until it is too late to do the things I have always wanted to do. I don't want to have to have a death sentence over my head to take the time to go see the things that are only in pictures, or tell the people I love how much I love them. I don't want to die with unfinished business. It is good to be me, and I am grateful for the opportunity to live like I mean it. It is so easy to get lulled into "just get through life" and postpone the things that don't seem important. But I think those things, the dreams and hopes, those are the things to live for. Some day, when I am staring at the wall while drooling on my pillow in the old folk home, I don't want to wish I had. I want to let the mental movies roll, and relive my glory days. And by the way, every day you live is a glory day.

Room mates

Patients crack me up sometimes! I can't blame either one, but I have only 2 today. I got floated to the Burn unit at the UCSD Hillcrest campus. Well, neither one of my patients likes the other. My Bed "B" has been throwing a fit because his slightly MR neighbor had a very large, smelly bm, the kind we here at the nurses station even made the effort to seek out and find air freshener! We are usually good with smells, but sometimes.....
Bed "A" then started in when B was having his dressing changed, and screamed and yelled at the top of his lungs, despite having had 4 mg of morphine as well as vicodin on board. You would have thought we were trying to kill the man. Vitamin A to the rescue, and "B" finally went to sleep and both parties have been happy for the past 4 hours. Of course, I always feel horrible when patients are in pain, and my idea would have been to keep giving him pain meds, morphine in particular, until the pain was back under control. Doctors have other ideas about things like that, knowing that the pain med will last a good 2-4 hours, and the dressing change will only last for 5 minutes. The doctors feel no pain....
I am embarrased to say that instead of increasing the pain meds, we shut the door. He is comfortable now, not that that makes it any better. I could never work on a burn unit for real. Those nurses are either angels or devils who enjoy inflicting pain on other people, as is done with each dressing change. Neither of my patients were burn patients though. Nonetheless, I suppose it would be pretty traumatic to have a 4 inch long by 2 inch across by 3 inch deep "gaping" hole in your abdomen. We get so acustomed to open body parts, but we forget that things like this are not exactly "normal" for most our patients. I wonder how many of them wonder what is keeping their guts from falling out!
In my own personal roommate saga, there is indeed a christmas tree up, and decorated! My room mate had dictated that the tree must be big and real, and it had to go in one particular space, and I could not buy it cause he was going to and yadda yadda, as I think I already outlined. So, to be a little spiteful after the 2nd time of him not following through with a promised date, went out and bought myself and TINY FAKE TREE! He came up the steps, knocked on my door, and demanded "Where's my tree? You said you were going to get me a tree! Where is it?" 11:30 Saturday night was neither the time, nor the place. I did have the fleeting thought that if he wanted to argue, I could take him on, and most of you who know me, know that choosing to argue with me is setting up for a major drama. Instead I chose the high road and remarked, "I am not going to discuss this." I did not see or speak to him again until Wednesday morning! Sunday I put "my tree" up in a different place on the other side of the room! If he wants a tree to his own specifications, he is welcome to get his own tree! Then, Wednesday morning, we bumped into each other, and I said a cheery "good morning" and got back a wonderfully cold silence. At least he keeps his door closed now so I don't have to listen to that stupid computer game he plays ALL THE TIME!
Anyone wanna take bets on when that will happen? I'm thinking IF it goes up, and that is a big IF, it probably won't be until the night before Christmas or something. Oh well! At least I am happy! Fa la la la la!
I also put round pink and blue ornament balls All Over the house, on the table, next to the TV, hanging from the matchstick blinds, and I am sure he hates it! I even got grandma in on the "just to piss him off" christmas decorating! I don't know if I had mentioned that the guest bathroom has a working toilet, and the wood cabinet part for the sink, but no sink. Just pipes sticking out of the ground. Mind you, he has all the parts to finish the job, and he said it would be done before I moved in....well, you know how that goes! So grandma is up on all the events, so she got some very cute little christmasy finger towels and some cute little decorative soaps to put in the guest bathroom! Grandma is great!
What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall listening to him talking to his friends about what a pain in the butt I am! I don't know why guys are so opposed to anything with remotely good taste until after they are married. If anyone has ideas for "cute little anoying things I could add for decorations, please do tell! I was thinking, those toilet paper doily angels are kind of what I was thinking. Any suggestions are welcome!

Roommate Saga

For those who are following the "roommate saga," I would like to provide an update, and will continue to keep you all posted as developments occur. Most people I have told this story to find it to be hysterical, or at least amusing. Looking back, most of these people are married and have long ago learned to deal with the quirks of having someone to share a house with. I would imagine it does make it easier if you love each other, and at one point in time vowed to honor and cherish and all that. In the case of roommates, no such vows are taken. I have never had a male room mate, and hope to never have one again, unless said room mate is a husband. Then I will share. But not until then.
Until I make the move to Denver, though, I will be making do with what I have to work with. My room mate, a still single, set in his ways late 30's, "cat lady" but a guy, dyed in the wool bachelor, has pulled another guy-ism. For those who have not been in on the trials of getting moved in, I will make a long story very, Very short. My bathroom, before I moved in was red. Not a nice designer shade, but stop sign red. All four walls, and the ceiling too! Did I mention it was a small bathroom? There was also a pile of junk, and I mean that in the nicest way, on the patio in the back that had been left by his old room mates who he had kicked out. Turns out that when you don't smoke pot yourself, potheads are really not a whole lot of fun, or reliable or anything else for that matter. There was also a hideous tiger striped, black and faded orange oversize love seat in the dining room. It was agreed that the love seat would be gone, and the junk, I mean stuff, would also be gone, and the bathroom painted a lovely shade of 'misted jade' that I had picked out and paid for, before I moved in. The agreement, although not written down, (my mistake, lesson learned, everything in writing) was made back in August. I mentioned each 2 times during the 4 weeks prior to moving in.
Move in day, the awful couch was still right where it was before: exactly where my dining room table was supposed to go. The pile of junk in trash bags, starting to smell like cat pee (remember, cat lady, but a guy) still right in the corner. Oh, and I have to mention this one thing too, which still amuses me. Pothead ex-roomies put down plastic tarp over the grass around the perimeter of the patio and poured sand an inch deep. Kitties love it! Me, not so much....
And guess what color the bathroom was...RED!!!
2 weeks later, after being told to quit nagging since I mentioned it one more time and voiced my distress about the headache making red, it was agreed that the bathroom would be "for sure, without a doubt, definitely done" before I got back from Mexico for the week.
Of course, as most women know, it was not done. I walked in and he was on the computer, (do they ever grow out of that phase?) and he looked up dumbly and said, "oh! you're home! I thought you were going to be gone 9 days." Can men count?
Not up for an argument, and CERTAINLY not willing to spend another day with the blinding red, I did what any choleric woman would do. I started painting the room myself! Jokes on him though, cause then he felt all bad, and tried to help, so I let him. After 20 minutes I excused myself for some water, and let him do the rest! I'm just glad it finally got done.
Which brings us back to the latest. Oh, and the couch did go away after another 2 weeks, but the pothead junk remains!!!
The day after Thanksgiving I was already in the Christmas spirit, and I wanted a Christmas tree. I mentioned it to him, planning on getting the artificial smaller tree from my grandparents to borrow to put up. Being a guy though, he would have none of that. "I will not allow fake Christmas trees in this house! I will buy a real one," he proclaimed. "And there will be no trees up until December 1st at least!" Now I know a lot of you are applauding this proclamation, because so many people are not into trees up so early; at least let the turkey settle in your stomach before moving along. You have to understand that this will be my first Christmas at home, with my whole family, not working at the hospital. (hopefully) So this is the first Christmas I have been happy about in more than a few years, as my family will atest to.
In all my excitement to get a tree up, I wanted it up NOW!!!! Compromising, he said he would get it the first weekend in December. So I shut up and let him go get one on either the 2nd or 3rd and did NOT nag, hint, fuss, complain, or anything else I would normally do to push for getting what I want. Since he had decided when he would get it, (translated "not my idea") I figured he would follow through.
Getting off work Sunday night, I stopped by Target and got the ribbons to match the wrapping paper I had spent hours searching for and coordinating. I have pretty much all my Christmas shopping done, (last year I was done by September) and I was so excited to wrap my presents and see how beautiful they look under the tree. Now, when I wrap my presents, I don't like to stop with just a thin ribbon and a shoestring bow. I get the wired ribbons, I usually have floral picks, and I have masses of curling ribbon hanging down. Each gift is a delight to decorate. An exercise in creativity. So I want my gifts to be out a long time so I can enjoy them. No sense in taking as much time as I like to just to turn around and hand it over to someone who will immediately rip the paper and throw away the bows. So I take pleasure in looking at them for a whole month, and then can light heartedly view the destroying of the art. By then I have usually forgotten what I had gotten them, and so it is exciting to see what they get!
So singing a little "all I want for Christmas is you" mixed with a Fa la la la la here and there, I skipped up the steps to the house, my heart fluttering as I opened the door to see what kind he had gotten, since we did not talk shape and kind.
Once again I was disappointed. No tree. Poor Laura.
Remembering that long ago he had told me that unless it is written down, he will forget, I wrote out a list. A very long one with all the things on it that he still has not done from before I moved in, starting with "buy Christmas tree."
Now, I thought I would be nice and explain to him that the spaces I left underlined were for him to write in when he would be able to finish the task by, and to cross it out when he was done. Today, when I came home from work, none of the spaces were filled out, a few had a circle with a dot in the middle, and next to a few were scrawled "what?" My favorite, though, was next to "steam clean upstairs" (which he will not let me do..."you'll break it") was written "shoes."
Shoes? Huh? It is a hallway! There are no shoes! My shoes are in my room in the closet, and his are who knows where in his room, but there are no shoes in the hallway.
Not that I have any experience, but living with a guy is impossible! I don't know why girls elect to do this on a regular basis! I can't wait to have my own place again!
Oh, and as another note, from my bedroom, I can hear him blowing his nose in the shower! EEEWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!
Everyone, if you are living alone, Praise God for that! If you are happily married, Praise God!
While, yeah, it's good to be me, if you have a room mate/husband/wife you love or you get to live alone, you may as well say it out loud, "It's good to be me!"

Happy Anniversary, and other reminders of why it's good to be me!

Today marks yet another anniversary, not for me, of course. But for my grandparents. The anniversary season for me starts in August with my mother's parents, who celebrated their 60th with me on a trip through Mexico. Next up is my dad's parents, whose anniversary is today. Then comes my parents in another week and a half or so. Add a bit of Christmas and New Years, and it's just festivities all around. December is a great month for that.
I appreciate the years my grandparents have sacrificed for each other, and am amazed at how they, after 54 years together, still seek out each others company and make each other laugh. It makes a little warm fuzzy spot in my heart. They are still cute. I just hope some day I can make it that long. Not just the making the marriage work, but making it get better and better. And having both of us alive for it too! (Darned nurses logic!)
I am so lucky to be able to call them up and wish them both a happy day, and talk to them both about how the day went. Very nice. Makes me glad to be me.
Back to the nurses world though. I always like to find reasons it is good to be me. Today I was shown, a few times, a great reason to be me. Drum roll please.......
Because I am not bleeding profusely into my mouth! Woo-hoo!!!! And following that yarn... I am glad I am also not vomiting blood! It's the little thing in life!
Over all, a good day though. I got to take care of "no matter how many times you bathe this person he will still reek of urine" man. Also the above mentioned "bleeding profusely from mouth"-man.
I am home already, so of course I have already forgotten who else I took care of. There is an instant forget force field that lines the perimeter of the hosptial, enabling all healthy of mind nurses and doctor to separate their professional and personal lives, and also causes you to forget anyone you took care of during this shift. It serves very well for maintaining our sanity and overall well-being. Only those who do not believe in it will carry home the emotional burdens of the 18 year old with aplasic anemia who may only have about 9 months to live, if he is lucky, or the 52 year old man who has leukemia and a set of 11 year old twins. It can be sad. That's why we have to leave it there at the hospital. We can take it home, and it will eat away at us. Or we can leave it because it will always be there when we return. It may not be the same face, smile or eyes, but the gravity of the situation is always there, looming on the other side of those double doors.
That's why I like to take home the happy thoughts. The life lesson for the day, or the reinforcement of "good to be me." And I think maybe that is why I am a good nurse.