part 2: family

i can't seem to get C out of my mind. there are some patients that, despite our every attempt to leave them at work, follow us home in our head and hearts. not surprisingly, i am not the only nurse who has allowed C's situation to sadden me. i know this because i have spent a fair amount of time (both at work and outside of work) talking to my colleagues about the heartache we feel for C and his family.

on monday night, my dear friend who had cared for C the three days after my one day with him, texted me to let me know that C had finally been discharged from the hospital. hooray! success! i was thrilled that C and his family were finally able to spend some quality time together - outside the confines of a sterile hospital. as a huge proponent of hospice, i hoped that C would feel at peace in his familiar surroundings, that his pain would be controlled with his patient controlled analgesic pump, and that he would slowly and beautifully slip into unconsciousness and eventually, perpetual sleep.

but on tuesday morning, before my shift had even begun, i heard rumors that C was coming back. his return to home was not successful; the admission to hospice was not smooth; the home delivery of his medications did not happen; and his mother had to "play" nurse all night long, administering intravenous morphine into her sons veinous system (may i add, NO mother should ever have to do that!). when i heard that C was coming back, i felt this inner struggle. one part of me said, "you should take care of him. you care and could do a good job." and the other part of me said, "don't offer to admit him. this is too sad. preserve yourself, protect your heart and stay away!"

sure enough, the charge nurse asked if i would admit C. and i was not about to refuse. it had been 4 days since i last saw C and both he and his mother looked worse. C was a new shade of yellow; his eyes were glazed. and T, his mom, although primped and showered, looked more tired and more sad. the ambulance drivers reported some vital signs and assisted C to bed. and i reluctantly "welcomed" him back.

obviously, i could go on and on about this. like i said, it's effecting me in a different way that most of my patients (thank god, i couldn't feel this sad about all the patients on my unit that have poor outcomes). but i won't continue - i won't bore myself or my mom (the only person who religiously reads this blog!). but i do want to say just a few more things...

it seems that as one approaches death, very few things become important. while C was home for less than 24 hours, he played with his dog and watched a movie with his brother, sister, and sister's boyfriend. in the wee hours the following morning, his parents woke up to C crawling into their bed, like a scared little boy seeking comfort and safety.

FAMILY. family is what is important. it's what is important to C and what is important to me. if work can teach me something/anything, it is this: we are both so lucky to be surrounded by family - the mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends, and pets (even though i don't have any pets and don't like animals, i recognize their importance for some people) that support us in our times of need.