Sometimes God is sneaky in His blessings. Today, going to work, I took a different route to work, and then stopped for just a few minutes to pick up some chips and salsa for the first of 3 going away parties for me. It just took a few minutes, and I was back on the freeway in no time.
Minutes into the drive, up ahead I noticed flashing lights, and as I approached I could more clearly see the 6 police cars, the firetruck, the 2 ambulances, the 12 or so firefightes/EMT's, and the upside down car. 2 other cars, which I assume were witnesses to the crash, were pulled over just beyond that, and the drivers were walking briskly to the scene.
I passed by, and then, knowing about how far away that particular firehouse is, knowing about how long it takes emergency response to show up, I realized that the crash could very well have been me. I would have been me. It could have been me.
Cancer is hard to work with, but at least these patients have time. They can say their goodbyes. It's like a snooze button on an alarm clock of expiration.
I don't think the driver of the upside down car was alive. Just a hunch.
It is good to be me. I was blessed in a profound way today. I didn't die.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
My way
Next week will be my last week here at my current hospital, where I have been for the longest I have ever worked in a particular hospital. The joys of being a traveler!
So it goes without saying that of course I will be floated to another floor, where I don't know any of the other nurses, and am not particularly excited about working with med-surg patients, especially as ornery as mine, as well as the rest of them. It is not even 8 in the morning when I overhear a patient threatening a CCP "Well if I fall on my ass and break it it will be your fault and I'm going to sue you!"
The poor CCP was trying to help him and eliminate obsticles in his path. The patient insisted on holding onto a wheelchair as he walked, which is not a great idea if you also have to manage an IV pole, an NG tube, and you want to do it your way. Nevermind that us nurses and CCP's have years of experience with assisting people and getting them out of bed, and this was the first time the patient has ever been in the hospital and had surgery.
What I loved, though, was the response, after the CCP tried it "the hospital way", which would be that she would manage the pole, put the end of the tube in his pocket so it would be out of the way, and the path would be clear. Of course, the dear patient didn't think that was such a great idea, and so, after much debate, was allowed to use the wheelchair, which he insisted he keep only 1 hand on, and hold the NG tube with the other one, and of course refused to be touched. In my head, I am thinking, if he falls forward, the wheel chair will keep rolling and not help. If he falls backward, the wheelchair will roll over him. If he falls sideways, it will fall over him. But this is how he wants it, and we do try to respect our patients wishes.
After absorbing the previously mentioned threat, she ever so sweetly, after giving him the wheelchair, replied, "There you go sir, now if you fall on your ass it will be your fault and we will be sure to sue you!"
I tried to supress my laughter as the patient, in all his stubbornness, commented back, "That's fine."
It's good to be me, and soooo amusing to hear a patient triumph in his independance!
As my momma says, "some people just don't want to be helped!"
So it goes without saying that of course I will be floated to another floor, where I don't know any of the other nurses, and am not particularly excited about working with med-surg patients, especially as ornery as mine, as well as the rest of them. It is not even 8 in the morning when I overhear a patient threatening a CCP "Well if I fall on my ass and break it it will be your fault and I'm going to sue you!"
The poor CCP was trying to help him and eliminate obsticles in his path. The patient insisted on holding onto a wheelchair as he walked, which is not a great idea if you also have to manage an IV pole, an NG tube, and you want to do it your way. Nevermind that us nurses and CCP's have years of experience with assisting people and getting them out of bed, and this was the first time the patient has ever been in the hospital and had surgery.
What I loved, though, was the response, after the CCP tried it "the hospital way", which would be that she would manage the pole, put the end of the tube in his pocket so it would be out of the way, and the path would be clear. Of course, the dear patient didn't think that was such a great idea, and so, after much debate, was allowed to use the wheelchair, which he insisted he keep only 1 hand on, and hold the NG tube with the other one, and of course refused to be touched. In my head, I am thinking, if he falls forward, the wheel chair will keep rolling and not help. If he falls backward, the wheelchair will roll over him. If he falls sideways, it will fall over him. But this is how he wants it, and we do try to respect our patients wishes.
After absorbing the previously mentioned threat, she ever so sweetly, after giving him the wheelchair, replied, "There you go sir, now if you fall on your ass it will be your fault and we will be sure to sue you!"
I tried to supress my laughter as the patient, in all his stubbornness, commented back, "That's fine."
It's good to be me, and soooo amusing to hear a patient triumph in his independance!
As my momma says, "some people just don't want to be helped!"
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Heart sore
Some people you meet were meant for just that certain time period in your life, and then they disappear, but you are forever changed by them. This week has been especially hard for that. I am coming to the end of my assignment, so the goodbyes are starting.
One particular doctor beat me to the punch by letting me know his last day is in 2 days, but of course I will not be at work for those 2 days. He and his wife will be moving back to Illinois. Turns out some people like having 20 or more acres to live on. Us Californians don't have a clue as to what an acre is. Let alone how big that translates to. We are happy with anything more than 500 square feet, and it can be up in the air, like a highrise.
Anyhow, I digress.
This doctor is one of my alltime favorites. And for me to sing the praises of a doctor, well, that's just saying a lot. He inspires me to be even more caring, more concerned, more appreciative of my patients and has taught me so much about palliation.
My patient, who I was very busy with trying to get her to keep from coding on me but I managed to get transfered to the ICU, died. Yesterday she was walking around, changing her own bed linens much to our dismay. She was sweet. I enjoyed being her nurse. I enjoyed her.
I know one is more "final" than the other, but either way, I probably won't ever see either one again.
My heart is sore over losing them.
It is good to be me, but sometimes it is good to be surrounded by others whom you have come to have impressed upon your soul. I take them with me in my memories. It will have to be enough. And I have hopes of seeing them again. It happens sometimes.
One particular doctor beat me to the punch by letting me know his last day is in 2 days, but of course I will not be at work for those 2 days. He and his wife will be moving back to Illinois. Turns out some people like having 20 or more acres to live on. Us Californians don't have a clue as to what an acre is. Let alone how big that translates to. We are happy with anything more than 500 square feet, and it can be up in the air, like a highrise.
Anyhow, I digress.
This doctor is one of my alltime favorites. And for me to sing the praises of a doctor, well, that's just saying a lot. He inspires me to be even more caring, more concerned, more appreciative of my patients and has taught me so much about palliation.
My patient, who I was very busy with trying to get her to keep from coding on me but I managed to get transfered to the ICU, died. Yesterday she was walking around, changing her own bed linens much to our dismay. She was sweet. I enjoyed being her nurse. I enjoyed her.
I know one is more "final" than the other, but either way, I probably won't ever see either one again.
My heart is sore over losing them.
It is good to be me, but sometimes it is good to be surrounded by others whom you have come to have impressed upon your soul. I take them with me in my memories. It will have to be enough. And I have hopes of seeing them again. It happens sometimes.
Monday, April 09, 2007
They come in 3's....
So that was the first. I don't think I mentioned that about 15 minutes after we got that lady off to the ICU, we had the second code. Next door.
Thankfully, it was just a respiratory crumble, and he's fine now, but still. I left that day practically placing bets on who would be next. Codes, like other bad things and ironically blessings, always come in 3's.
The next day, we had the third.
At change of shift. No suprise there.
That was a much messier code....
I got puke down my scrub top as the tube in the patients throat caused her to cough! Not just on the front, but down in my scrub top! The whole code team cringed and "ugh"-ed at the same time, as I winced, at the same time smelling and feeling the hot gastric content slide their way down between my boobs, over the middle part of my bra, and continued like a nasty slug down my belly. Of course, my gloved hands were covered in it as well, as was my left arm, but that didn't bother me quite as much.
"You okay? Did it get in your eyes?"
And this is where I was very thankful. "No, it didn't get into my eyes, or my nose, or my mouth" and after a quick check, "or on my shoes!"
And everyone let loose the breath they had been holding.
Focus turned back to the patient, and I finally managed to get a new pair of gloves, a towel, and a whole pile of alcohol wipes.
It's good to be me, though. It didn't get on my shoes. Every nurse has their "little things" and that's one of mine.
Thankfully, it was just a respiratory crumble, and he's fine now, but still. I left that day practically placing bets on who would be next. Codes, like other bad things and ironically blessings, always come in 3's.
The next day, we had the third.
At change of shift. No suprise there.
That was a much messier code....
I got puke down my scrub top as the tube in the patients throat caused her to cough! Not just on the front, but down in my scrub top! The whole code team cringed and "ugh"-ed at the same time, as I winced, at the same time smelling and feeling the hot gastric content slide their way down between my boobs, over the middle part of my bra, and continued like a nasty slug down my belly. Of course, my gloved hands were covered in it as well, as was my left arm, but that didn't bother me quite as much.
"You okay? Did it get in your eyes?"
And this is where I was very thankful. "No, it didn't get into my eyes, or my nose, or my mouth" and after a quick check, "or on my shoes!"
And everyone let loose the breath they had been holding.
Focus turned back to the patient, and I finally managed to get a new pair of gloves, a towel, and a whole pile of alcohol wipes.
It's good to be me, though. It didn't get on my shoes. Every nurse has their "little things" and that's one of mine.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Epi.....
I feel I should start this post from the beginning, which, in this case, started with my "double the dose" Rockstar energy drink springing a leak in my bag, so I drank the whole thing on the way to work. For those of you who are "energy drink" addicts...you can relate to the following feelings.
I don't drink them all the time because my heart will have random pauses a bit more than I would like when I take that much caffeine. I know most of you nurses are thinking "shouldn't that make your heart go faster?" For most people. Not me. I brady down to the 30's. Fun. Asymptomatic. But I can feel it and I'm aware of it. Anyhow, not the point. And I usually take all day to drink one, and I usually share most of it with my co-workers.
So here I am at work, practically bouncing down the hall, I already have my meds and am in my first patients room and it's only 7:28. Wow, right? Until I hear that overhead beep, you know the one, and hold my breath as I listen to
".........Code Blue...............
...................3 West.........................
................Room 354...........................
Code Blue..........................."
Telling my still sleepy patient "I'll be right back," as politely and unrushed sounding as I could pull off, I stepped out of the room and ran, in about 3 steps, around the corner to where there was indeed a code blue. On the floor. Not in the bed. With 3 people trying to lift her back into bed. That's when that heart drop feeling hits, cause I know this patient. She's the one I didn't think we should have ever started chemo on.
Grabbing gloves (the last 2 in the box, of course) I started yelling orders, "Get me some more gloves! You, get the crash cart! You, get an o2 tank in here!"
By now we have the lady in the bed at least, which is a huge plus if you're having a code, and a crowd has gathered around the door.
Usually on oncology floors, we are not suprised by death. We make it a comfortable thing that we, with our patients, can manage and make the best possible scenario. Not this time. It caught us by suprise. We aren't used to it. A lot of us are stunned by it and have a hard time pulling ourselves away from the the scene to actually do something.
So I started breaking her ribs. That's what happens when you start CPR compressions.
The right doctor appeared magically, or so it seemed, and we really got things going. Someone took over for me doing the compressions. We got the fluids going, got her hooked up to the leads, started pacing her, got her intubated, and........got a heart beat back!!!!
Codes sometimes fly by, and after a half hour that felt like about half a minute, we wheeled her off the floor to take her to the ICU. I think that was when I blinked, and realized how bad I was shaking.
We give our patients epinepherine in an asystole kind of code. We gave it to her. It feels like we all get some too.
Afterward, for about the next half hour or so, I felt invinciable. Alive. Thriving. Flying. Reminded how fickle life can be. Proven, once again, how lucky I am. How lucky we all are.
Maybe it was the Rockstar. I sure felt like one.
Standing side by side with "The Doctor", being part of an amazing team, working towards a common goal of defeating death, it's a rush. It's a revelation every time. I don't think that ever changes.
My patient was the same age as my grandmother.
Don't you think I didn't go straight to see her and tell her I love her and how lucky I am to have her.
I love my job. I appreciate my family and friends. It is good to be me. Things like that are profound reminders.
I don't drink them all the time because my heart will have random pauses a bit more than I would like when I take that much caffeine. I know most of you nurses are thinking "shouldn't that make your heart go faster?" For most people. Not me. I brady down to the 30's. Fun. Asymptomatic. But I can feel it and I'm aware of it. Anyhow, not the point. And I usually take all day to drink one, and I usually share most of it with my co-workers.
So here I am at work, practically bouncing down the hall, I already have my meds and am in my first patients room and it's only 7:28. Wow, right? Until I hear that overhead beep, you know the one, and hold my breath as I listen to
".........Code Blue...............
...................3 West.........................
................Room 354...........................
Code Blue..........................."
Telling my still sleepy patient "I'll be right back," as politely and unrushed sounding as I could pull off, I stepped out of the room and ran, in about 3 steps, around the corner to where there was indeed a code blue. On the floor. Not in the bed. With 3 people trying to lift her back into bed. That's when that heart drop feeling hits, cause I know this patient. She's the one I didn't think we should have ever started chemo on.
Grabbing gloves (the last 2 in the box, of course) I started yelling orders, "Get me some more gloves! You, get the crash cart! You, get an o2 tank in here!"
By now we have the lady in the bed at least, which is a huge plus if you're having a code, and a crowd has gathered around the door.
Usually on oncology floors, we are not suprised by death. We make it a comfortable thing that we, with our patients, can manage and make the best possible scenario. Not this time. It caught us by suprise. We aren't used to it. A lot of us are stunned by it and have a hard time pulling ourselves away from the the scene to actually do something.
So I started breaking her ribs. That's what happens when you start CPR compressions.
The right doctor appeared magically, or so it seemed, and we really got things going. Someone took over for me doing the compressions. We got the fluids going, got her hooked up to the leads, started pacing her, got her intubated, and........got a heart beat back!!!!
Codes sometimes fly by, and after a half hour that felt like about half a minute, we wheeled her off the floor to take her to the ICU. I think that was when I blinked, and realized how bad I was shaking.
We give our patients epinepherine in an asystole kind of code. We gave it to her. It feels like we all get some too.
Afterward, for about the next half hour or so, I felt invinciable. Alive. Thriving. Flying. Reminded how fickle life can be. Proven, once again, how lucky I am. How lucky we all are.
Maybe it was the Rockstar. I sure felt like one.
Standing side by side with "The Doctor", being part of an amazing team, working towards a common goal of defeating death, it's a rush. It's a revelation every time. I don't think that ever changes.
My patient was the same age as my grandmother.
Don't you think I didn't go straight to see her and tell her I love her and how lucky I am to have her.
I love my job. I appreciate my family and friends. It is good to be me. Things like that are profound reminders.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
***Blush***
I just overheard my charge nurse and my nurse manager discussing the patient load, and who should take a patient and yadda yadda, and then they said, "And Laura, she's a stong nurse."
Just wanted to toot my own horn!
It's good to be me~!
Just wanted to toot my own horn!
It's good to be me~!
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