miracle of the year

i had the privilege of witnessing a miracle at work yesterday.

in case you haven't noticed, i'm sort of pessimistic. as an oncology nurse, i have acquired a dark sense of humor. you've maybe heard me say, "everyone dies." cuz i feel that way sometimes. i call myself "negative nelly."

but yesterday, i was proven wrong. i witnessed a miracle. and then and only then, i LOVE being wrong.

mr. m left my unit after more than 6 months of hospital stay. in fact, i admitted him. i don't even remember when it was. but some horrible tragedy had befallen his family. his wife had been attacked and because she was his caregiver, while she was in the hospital recovering, mr. m stopped caring for himself and stopped taking his transplant medications. because of this, he developed a VERY serious case of graft versus host disease. which prompted high doses of steroids. which made him susceptible to all sorts of infections. and infections he got. by the dozen. he must have been intubated 2 or 3 times. he had surgery on his leg because it was thought that he had necrotizing fasciaitis (an often lethal infection). he ended up getting FIVE pressure ulcers on his coccyx. he lost almost all of his independence. the only thing he could really do for himself was keep fighting. through months and months of rehab and recovery.

i must have thought, over and over, "he's a goner." in fact, i know i said it. we all did on my unit. NOBODY can overcome ALL OF THAT.

but he did. as mr. m wheeled himself out of our unit last night, i ran behind him to say a final goodbye. i got all choked up and had tears in my eyes. the other nurses i was working with yesterday were ALL new. they had been on 8NE less time than the patient. so, by myself, i stood at the elevator and clapped. i told mr. m that he deserved a standing ovation and a round of applause. never before have i been so impressed with somebody's will and determination, with his stamina and strength.

mr. m gets the miracle of the year award. here's to hoping that 2012 has a miracle or two as well!

poop

last week was shitty - literally. i got poop on my bare arm. only one time that i know of. but i might as well have bathed in shit. one day, in less than 20 minutes, i cleaned up the same patient three times. i worked four days out of five days last week and each day, i had the poopy patient. by the fourth day, i wanted to shoot myself. or her. not once did she thank me...

this week was quite the opposite. neither of my patients pooped (yeah for constipation)! and i was thanked a thousand times for cleaning bathrooms (just emptying urine), delivering buckets of ice, giving shots, and teaching side effects of chemo. when i left last night and said goodbye to my patient, she said, "you've been such a peach!"

i like constipated, kind patients. please let only these folks get cancer...

what are you thankful for?

*** i started this on thanksgiving and just now finished it. a month later, i'm still thankful for all these things. ***

because of nursing, i face some of life's ugly realities on a daily basis. and thanks to nursing, i sometimes have ah-ha moments when i stop, smell the roses, and remember to be thankful for the simple things in life. recently, i've seen some top 100 lists of people, places, things, and feelings for which people are thankful. and it has inspired me to do the same. here is my top 100 in no particular order.

1. family.
2. living in seattle - one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
3. traveling to reykjavik, paris, amsterdam, and prague in 2011.
4. tall 3 pump sugar-free vanilla non-fat extra-hot lattes (ridiculous, i know).
5. my laptop.
6. pho on a cold, wet, windy day.
7. short runs to clear my head.
8. dvr.
9. chemotherapy.
10. ativan (my patients' favorite drug).
11. clean water and hot showers.
12. living near molly moon's, bluebird, and cupcake royale.
13. walks around greenlake with friends.
14. my aunt joanie.
15. corduroy pants - my new wardrobe staple.
16. christmas! and having it off of work this year.
17. crisp new sheets on the bed.
18. pajama pants and fleece socks.
19. danskos (all five pairs).
20. the smell of banana bread.
21. the summit of rainier.
22. the colors of fall leaves.
23. my niece and nephew - emerson and cohen.
24. painted toenails.
25. my microwave.
26. having a zaw pizza in my building.
27. pinterest - keeps me entertained many a evening.
28. santa pictures on christmas eve.
29. 3 for 30 month.
30. bright colored tank tops.
31. friends that show up when you need them.
32. flip-flops.
33. my new camera.
34. diverging viewpoints that make me question my own thinking.
35. my dad's team of doctors.
36. memories of my granny.
37. family traditions.
38. nursing.
39. hot soup with pretzel rolls from alpenland.
40. adventure.
41. york peppermint patties.
42. my education.
43. my glasses.
44. a good night's sleep.
45. my planner.
46. mechanical pencils.
47. overtime shifts.
48. argyle socks.
49. croissants in paris.
50. scarves to bundle up in the cold.
51. curly bacon.
52. our gingerbread house tradition and ginormous bowls of candy.
53. mid-day naps.
54. morning star sausage patties - quickest breakfast ever.
55. bright colors.
56. having the privilege to get to know family members of my patients.
57. my lucky 13 necklace, given to my grandma from my grandpa the day after they met.
58. hot yoga.
59. camp parkview on vashon island.
60. honeycrisp apples.
61. good hiking boots.
62. having a friend who is good at fixing computers and teaches me new tricks on my laptop.
63. rei.
64. having amazing colleagues at work that have turned into friends.
65. felt christmas ornaments.
66. coupons (i'm a bargain shopper).
67. newborn babies, their smell, and the smiles they cause on everyone's faces and in everyone's hearts.
68. goretex.
69. having the insight to recognize my privilege.
70. flushing toilets and toilet paper (not always available when hiking and traveling).
71. homemade trailmix.
72. the smell of rain.
73. chaotic family dinners.
74. therapy.
75. the twinkle of christmas lights.
76. fresh sticky and drippy washington peaches by the crate-full.
77. stolen hospital scrubs.
78. massages.
79. listening to music while working out and feeling totally free.
80. baking dozens of christmas cookies.
81. tears - a good cry is very cathartic.
82. my ancient car that relatively reliably gets me where i need to go.
83. finding a good deal.
84. that my dad buys me a christmas tree every year.
85. the sound of laughter in our break room at work.
86. the magic of snow.
87. health insurance.
88. writing in a journal while away on vacation.
89. having crazy parents only miles away.
90. blog reading/stalking.
91. freedom.
92. seeing the sun rise over the cascades and set behind the olympics.
93. make believe people - ie. the toothfairy, the easter bunny, and santa.
94. peace and quiet.
95. INDIA.
96. farmers' markets with fresh produce and delicious treats.
97. my passport.
98. holiday cheer.
99. peanut butter.
100. my health!

as part of our thanksgiving day preparations, i asked my dear aunt joanie (who is developmentally disabled) what she is thankful for. her top three were: 1. christa (ME), 2. santa, and 3. jesus. when i asked my two year old niece for what she is thankful, she said "i'm thankful for the mall." here's to hoping that when she is my age, she recognizes some of life's more beautiful things and remembers to be thankful!

"i like you"

you know you're weird when you read obituaries like they're entertainment! my mom called me to read me this obituary (she's been reading obituaries since i can remember - i guess i get my weirdness from her). anyhoo, as she read it to me, i couldn't help but cry. wouldn't the world be a better place if we all acted a bit more like jeremy? what if you told someone that you liked them because you truly did or brought your neighbors' garbage cans in every week just because. maybe instead of listening to our ipods in silence, we should all sing outloud as we ride bikes and go on runs!

Jeremy John GILROY Jeremy John Gilroy, 37, died December 11, 2011, in Seattle. Jeremy lived loudly. The fiery redhead was born in Oswego,N.Y., to Jack and Helene Gilroy. He was joined two years later by sister Kristen. Jeremy spent most of his life in the Seattle area. He grew up in Issaquah, surrounded by loving friends and a nurturing community. He rode his bike for hours and hours every day, singing at the top of his lungs. He paid daily visits to many of his neighbors, and followed the garbage truck around Squak Mountain so he could put away the trash cans of everyone who lived in a 3-mile radius. He loved dogs and little kids, Matchbox cars, stickers and sidewalk chalk, and annual trips to Ocean Shores. Everyone who knew Jer well remembers his infectious laugh and has a great story about him. Jeremy was a graduate of Issaquah High School. He had several jobs, most recently at Auburn Volkswagen. He liked going to work and was never shy about making friends and saying whatever was on his mind (often it was "I like you"). He helped us live more compassionately and joyfully. Jeremy's family would like to thank those who helped him through his last year of life. In his memory, please consider a donation to Special Olympics (www.specialolympicswashington.org) or the Sibling Support Project (www.siblingsupport.org) at 6512 23rd Ave NW, Seattle, WA 98117. We'll gather to remember his life at 11 a.m. Jan. 7, St. Madeleine Sophie Church, 4000 130th Place S.E., Bellevue.

christmas lights

i bought a christmas tree yesterday with my dad. not because i really wanted a tree, but because i worry that one of these years it might be our last father-daughter christmas tree shopping adventure. and it's become our tradition. my dad pretends to be a scrooge. he pretends to hate christmas. but in reality, he puts up too many christmas lights on the house and buys me any tree i want. and we have fun. he makes a raucous in the lot and complains about the price; i act embarrassed and hide amidst rows of douglas firs - but in reality, i'm proud that my dad is mine and his craziness makes me laugh.

tonight i started to decorate my tree. i'm particular. sparkly white lights must be twirled around each branch. no segment may be left unlit. things were going artfully well when all of a sudden, i started to cry. i imagined my patient's wife decorating a christmas tree ALONE.

my 31 year old patient, one whom i have grown particularly fond of, passed away this morning at 3 AM. his family was at his bedside holding vigil - his wife, his parents, and several aunts and uncles were there. and supposedly it was peaceful and pain-free. but when i came in to work this morning, dale's body was gone. his hospital room was empty. his family had left the building. and i will never see him or them again. this might be one of the weirdest things about my job (and i do some pretty strange stuff) - to become an important part of someones life leading up to their death, to get to know an entire family unit, and all of sudden, just because one member stops breathing, my entire relationship with the family ends right then and there. i will never be a nurse to dale, nor will i ever have the opportunity to support his family who i have grown to love.

i will think of dale often; he was a memorable character. and because we are the exact same age, i can't help but feel a certain guilt and an extra sadness. but tonight, i thought of dale's sweet wife as i decorated my christmas tree with iridescent twinkle lights. tara had to leave the hospital this morning without her husband (her partner of more than 16 years) and tell her 4 year old son and her 6 year old daughter that their daddy is not coming home - that he got too sick and no band-aid could fix his boo-boo. dale's family will soon return on a flight to their hometown. and of course, it's christmas. so tara will have to put a smile on her face, maybe even decorate a christmas tree, and continue living life - for her kids. they need to celebrate christmas. they deserve the twinkle of christmas lights. and stockings full of treats. they need to believe. in something. and i hope they can.

fired

a nurse got fired form my unit yesterday... it's still hush, hush. i don't know all of the details. but it's crazy. we've had several errors lately with our pyxis machine (the locked machine that holds all of our medications and tracks who logs in and out via fingerprint) that have lead to an investigation. it's not like just one tablet was missing here and there (which is bad enough). the other day, there were four 20 mg tablets of oxycontin and eight 5mg tablets of oxycodone missing. good street drugs, in high demand, worth a pretty penny! but who is stupid enough to think they can get away with stealing SO many drugs? i guess someone who has a horrible addiction and loses sight of reality. desperate enough not to care if they get caught. i feel sad for this nurse. she is amazing at what she does. she's super involved in our unit, a skilled professional, and patient advocate. what a big loss.